I have made a bitter career of hating Fleetwood Mac. My parent's friends would play Rumors on their home stereos, with separate speakers servicing dinner patios…and I hated it. Two of my best friends returned home from a brief stint working at a remote California pot farm, espousing the many magical qualities of THE MAC, and still, I hated. Bands like Scissor Sisters sprung up around the world, building non-bitter careers of copying Fleetwood Mac’s style and essence. I hated them, also.
And so, it is no small thing that today, thanks of course to a song on Ali’s most recent summer mix that I pirated from her computer not 48 hours ago, I admit defeat. I have found a song which makes me love Fleetwood Mac. I am hooked on the rhythm, the tone, the melody, the vocal style. Here is my white flag—I am conquered. I love this song. I am obsessed. I cannot stop listening to it.
I’ll tell you all about my fun trip to the midwest tomorrow or Monday. I’ll tell you about how Angie bought us “hers and hers” bottles of whiskey. I’ll tell you about how I jumped into a swimming pool in suburban Michigan post-wedding with all my clothes on. I’ll tell you about beautiful friends and beautiful Pickeral Lake and a delayed cracked-out train ride and my most beloved Moms and photobooth pictures and all about wandering aimlessly in a hot, hot Chicago later. For now, let’s just revel in the fact that I like this Fleetwood Mac song.
The Ledge.mp3
Buy another fixture,
Tell another lie.
Paint another picture,
See who’s surprised.
You can love me baby but you can’t walk out.
Someone oughta tell you what it’s really all about.
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3 months ago
2 comments:
a few years back, i was in a record store - a cool, independent, ashtrays-on-the-glass-display-cases-every-five-feet, 100,000-vinyl kind of record store - with a friend when i spotted "rumours". i knew i shouldn't, especially with my music-snob friend in tow (guy made an acid jazz album in the early 80s and turned down a record contract from columbia), but i bought the damn thing. my friend and the clerk both made fun of me. i still catch flak about it when i go in there.
for a totally different fleetwood mac vibe, though, track down an album called "mystery to me". fantastic stuff, earlier stuff. not so early as the peter green blues stuff, but not the glam-and-ballet crap they ended up degenerating into, either (like, yeah, rumours. the one i paid money for. go figure). i won't go so far as to call it swamp rock, but it's not at all out of place riding through a muddy river bottom in a jeep on fourth of july weekend. i had to order it. from that record store. i think i won some grudging respect back from the clerk.
You win the comment-of-the-week award, Justin... especially your description of FM as glam-and-ballet crap.
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