Gawd, not this thing again.
I confess: My deep dive into Christine McVie’s discography that began soon after her death last December has been stalled for far too long by Rumours.
Because there’s not a damn thing more that need be said about it at this point. Or about Thriller or Dark Side of the Moon or almost anything by the Beatles or [insert permanently overexposed all-time classic here].
I’m not sayin’ I don’t love ‘em too.
I’m sayin’: What can I possibly add?
Finally realizing it’s better not to try, I’ve opted to push past this masterpiece roadblock by focusing strictly on what Christine brought to it.
• She was already a ghost in the machine.
Yes, McVie has four lead turns, two of which might as well be solo pieces. But apart from some ooohs and mmmms and muted organ her presence isn’t really felt until 10 minutes into Side 1, when we hear her clearly for the first time on ‘Don’t Stop.’ Even in the spotlight she remains observational, non-confrontational — therapist, not victim. As the album ends, swirling in the lacy tendrils of Stevie’s cocaine gypsy, Christine’s calming hopefulness is what lingers longest.
• She’s also become the glue.
She forges the sturdiest link in ‘The Chain.’ She undergirds virtually everything with tack-sharp yet subtle shading the color of lifeblood. And with ‘Oh Daddy,’ written about Mick & Jenny’s rocky marriage, she empathizes and summarizes in ways her musical bedfellows don’t.
• She’ll always be here, but she’s moving on.
How she swoons over her new beau in ‘You Make Lovin’ Fun’ is just delectable icing. The true tell of how close Christine is to achieving closure after eight years with John comes in ‘Don’t Stop’: ‘I know you don’t believe that it’s true / I never meant any harm to you.’ Yesterday’s gone, for good.