That’s right, Mac watchers, you’ve guessed correctly: It’s time now to resurrect a trove of Tusk-an tour mementos. Buckle up, kids, because there are two more live sets right behind this one — literally seven LPs & 14 sides of performances to get through before we take a fresh look at 1982’s Mirage.
We’re technically jumping into the ‘70s with these compilations when there’s still plenty left in the ‘60s worth mentioning. The Procol Harum assortment with the inexplicably celestial cover is from ’73, Spooky Tooth’s set with peeking tiger from ’76.
If you’ve spent time listening to any of these alternate versions of Fleetwood Mac’s beloved behemoths, whether in vinyl form (like this parallel Tusk) or via scores of tracks that litter deluxe-edition digital copies, you’ve got to admit: Sometimes it’s really hard to discern much difference between outtakes and finished products.
Today’s #TuesdaysWithJerry topic: samplers!
I wish more labels had kept up with this promotional practice, tossing together gateway tracks as a means of enticing ears to seek out more from their rosters, while sometimes slipping in a rarity or two to help such things become collector’s items.
I hardly know where to begin with this beast.
Were this an ongoing deep dive into the varied sounds of Lindsey Buckingham, I’d know exactly how to start: Despite memorable material from Christine McVie and Stevie Nicks — including the utterly gorgeous, sometimes seductive ‘Sara,’ my pick for the latter’s peak moment in Fleetwood Mac or otherwise — this thing still plays like LB’s first solo LP.
If you’re just joining this ongoing journey through the decades-deep A&M Records catalog — my way of memorializing that label’s late great co-founder Jerry Moss, who died in August at 88 — let me bring you up to speed.
Like so many other platinum acts from A&M Records’s pre-rock catalog, the Carpenters struck me even from a single-digit age as featherlight schlock, inescapably omnipresent (especially in the ‘70s) but instantly dismissed by Gen X’ers (I’m one) who had yet to grow out of ironic hipster attitudes toward everything straight-laced and square.
Some of you surely remember as fondly as I do how that outlook changed dramatically for the better via the 1994 compilation ‘If I Were a Carpenter.’ At the height of grunge, here was an earnestly sincere salute to all this sterling popcraft we’d never properly appreciated.
Because I’m not a boomer who came of age in the ‘60s, I neither fell for these cross-pollinated charmers as a swingin’ sophisticate nor first became aware of Brazilian music via the global smash — Stan Getz & João Gilberto’s ‘The Girl from Ipanema,’ with aloofly dreamy vocals from the late Astrud Gilberto — that put the beguiling sound of bossa nova on a wider musical map.
To re-address @jldrueke’s question: Yes, I am including this one in my Christine McVie deep dive, for reasons some fans automatically know while others will learn below. That said, I’m not so sure I’d consider Bob Welch’s solo debut a truly bizarro follow-up to Rumours, as Jeremiah suggests.
Yes, I’m still insisting the alternate versions of Fleetwood Mac’s most popular albums (‘75-‘87) are worthy of individual assessment amid this deep dive into the discography of the late great Christine McVie.
When it comes to the rough-cut mirror-image of Rumours, though, many of the truly illuminating session gems are only bonus bits on the ‘Super Deluxe’ edition of this blockbuster. Fortunately for fans unwilling to splurge or incapable of spending so lavishly, those tracks are streaming as well.
