Having accepted that the band weren’t interested in “shaking people’s preconceptions of pop,” as he sniffed to any reporter who would listen, Buckingham resolved that Fleetwood Mac’s next album should be a proper group effort. According to Buckingham’s then-girlfriend, Carol Ann Harris, he liked to refer to “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” as “Stop Draggin’ My Career Around.” Her blousy mystique was the antithesis of his uptight theme, and to dent his fragile ego further, it had been validated by serious men: collaborators Tom Petty, Don Henley, and producer Jimmy Iovine, who she was now dating. Where Tusk had taken a year to record, Nicks’ debut album, Bella Donna, was nailed in a few days, released in July, and certified Platinum by October-just as Buckingham’s Law and Order limped to No. ![]() “Looks like the end of the line,” the New York Post warned in March 1981, as solo careers started to proliferate. They were traveling in separate limos by the end of the bad-tempered Tusk tour, where Buckingham had kicked Nicks onstage, and they’d circled Europe on Hitler’s old train. The finely turned details that illuminate these tunes are deployed throughout Mirage, from the enthusiastic “hey” on “Empire State” to the tiny organ telegraphing “Only over You.” Pop touches like these make a few grains of sand seem like a beach.After two records about cheating on each other, it was inevitable that Stevie Nicks, Lindsey Buckingham, Christine and John McVie, and Mick Fleetwood would begin to cheat on Fleetwood Mac. Minimally deeper are “Oh Diane” and “Eyes of the World,” the former coaxing the dreaded “grain of sand” over a Buddy Holly-ish chord structure, and the latter launching a riveting guitar solo from a “Tusk”-like beat. How lucky they were to have said it first! “Empire State,” which crosses the space-cadet Byrds with the car-hopping Beach Boys, is as aggressively asinine as anything to come from Brian’s sandbox. He composes mint-fresh pop tunes, but the words are strictly recycled: i.e., “Love is like a grain of sand” or “Who wrote the book of love?” While Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran and Brian Wilson ignite his imagination, they also tangle his tongue. Hellbent on becoming the silliest of rock stars, Lindsey Buckingham takes Fleetwood Mac’s limp language to its logical extreme. Singing in tandem, Christine and Lindsey snuggle up to the rhythm (“Slip your hand inside my glove”), she smoothing his edges and he pushing her over the top. And though “Wish You Were Here” is a Jackson Browne soundalike with really bad words, “Hold Me” bristles with randy fun. “Only over You” is Mirage‘s inevitable breakup blues: “I’m out of my mind,” she sings in an ascending arch, and while that’s not too far from “I’m over my head,” Christine’s wisdom is in her honey-toned voice. Still, when Fleetwood drops extra drum beats into the belly of the belfry on “Gypsy,” it’s clear that nobody can weave Stevie’s velvet and lace like Fleetwood Mac.Ĭhristine McVie might turn out to be the Alberta Hunter of the future. Is there a witch in the house who could banish “dream,” “gypsy” and (gasp) “velvet underground” from her vocabulary? “That’s Alright,” with a countryish melody and a demonstrative opening image (“Meet me down by the railway station”), is far and away her best new song. While Buckingham steals from everybody, Nicks picks her own pocket. Nicks, whose easy allure has made her the most popular of Mac’s front three, is also the most problematic. Whether answering the lead voice or chanting “bom, bom, bom,” the singing keeps Mac’s fuzzy face in focus. Voices make a feather bed for Christine McVie’s pulsing “Love in Store,” adorn the edges of Stevie Nicks’ fairy tales and jump all over Buckingham’s quirky contributions. ![]() Fleetwood and McVie, rock’s classiest rhythm section, know how to make the simple sublime.įleetwood Mac, a vocal group with a beat, doesn’t scrimp on harmonies. The melody is sprung from beat one as vibes and guitar play tag atop John McVie’s ticktocking bass, and just when you expect it, Mick Fleetwood’s snare drum locks the machinery into gear. As with most of Buckingham’s tunes, we’re hooked before the first word. “Can’t Go Home” would sound comfortable in a music box. On Mirage, Lindsey Buckingham once again reaches into his bag of magicianly production tricks and pulls out an elusive gem of a Fleetwood Mac record that, to borrow some lines from his own “Can’t Go Home,” has “a face as soft as a tear in a clown’s eye.” In the three-part harmonies and the assured snap of the rhythm section, we hear five distinct personalities merge into a sound that is unmistakably Mac. Fleetwood Mac boasts the rarest of chart-topping, adult-oriented rock virtues - a group personality.
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