All Hail the New Class: Fleetwood Mac in 1975

The ship of Theseus. 

The modern ship of Theseus, or I guess former modern yet still endlessly popular, is helmed by some of the most dysfunctional and iconic people in all of rock and roll history.

Of course I’m talking about Fleetwood Mac, and their 1975 inclusions of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. Despite being the 400th members to join the band, and perhaps the two most left field choices of all, they are what many people think of when told to describe Fleetwood Mac. If anything, Stevie Nicks has become the be all, end of all of what Fleetwood Mac is to the rest of the world. Long gone were the days of a cult classic British blues outfit and now we enter the space of mysticism and poetry that marks the classics of the band now. 

50 years ago Fleetwood Mac, or the most famous version of Fleetwood Mac, debuted to the world. With their second self titled album, they were introducing the world to a band that would permanently change the face of music forever. They would never reinvent the wheel, they would barely experiment, and their biggest draw came from what everyone never could understand about them. But for one brief, shining moment in 1975, Fleetwood Mac had the best debut album of all time. Let me explain. 

Fleetwood Mac (1975) opens with Lindsey Buckingham making the most infectious diner jingle to ever not be used in a commercial. He bounces through Monday Morning like someone destined to make the most pop-centric rock music you’ve ever heard. Monday Morning you sure look fine, Friday I got traffic on my mind - he’s not really writing in any deep or inaccessible way. While early Mac could often feel slightly hard to get into due to it’s basis as such a blues revival group, this era throws that away immediately. It sets the stage for everything they would become beloved for: a song designed to be sung along too, subtle digs at an ex hidden in the verses, and those phenomenal harmonies meeting up on every other line. Followed up by Warm Ways - our first Christine McVie tune of the album - where she whisks us into a hazy state of mind after Buckingham’s dizzying display of poptimism. You can nearly smell the incense being wiped from the vinyl shelf as the song goes on, I’m waiting for the sun to go on / I can’t sleep with your warm ways. It’s a lo-fi classic that has yet to have a resurgence but mark my words: it will happen in the next three years. Blue Letter is our first real taste of the Buckingham-Nicks soundscape, while Buckingham takes the bulk of the singing duties here, it’s Stevie Nicks backing vocals that make it feel so full. She fits right in to not steal the thunder but hide safely in those fills till her time comes. In just three tracks, everything to love about the sunny and optimistic sounds of Fleetwood Mac as we know today is revealed in crystal clear views. 

Rhiannon follows up and let me put it this way - It’s much too good to be a Fleetwood Mac

Stevie in 1975

song. Don’t get me wrong, I love Fleetwood Mac, but what I truly love about them is Stevie Nicks and Stevie Nicks alone. Rhiannon is so essentially Stevie, her voice on perfect display - the world’s first true introduction to the Welsh witch - and the lyrics are caked in this magical filler without ever sacrificing vibes over meaning. There’s a story to be told about Stevie’s first hit song being about a woman wanting to leave to become the being she feels most free as within her soul. When someone thinks of this band, they imagine a woman howling wildly into a scarf-draped microphone as she twirls her bellowing black sleeves around her head in a captivating display of performance art that has yet to be replicated in any realistic way. While everything else they made after this was good, maybe even great, nothing was ever Rhiannon. I fear it was too great of a song to not have everything live in its shadows forever. 

Over My Head is another wonderful Christine tune. Her voice and writing style is reminiscent of a memory in an odd way, her songs seem to shade in the soundtrack to the thoughts of a beautiful spring day being thought about again. Crystal is an interesting case, another one of those mystical songs that the band have been toying with the whole album, but it’s hard to connect to the album version in the retrospective. The album cut is sung by Buckingham, with Nicks and McVie doing the backing vocals on the chorus, and it sounds great. The issue comes when we hear the version Nicks did solo in the 1990s, which blows this version out of the water. She wrote the song, first of all, but the second part comes in when you think of how much stronger it sounds with the wiseness of an older narrator at it’s helm. Lines like How the faces of love have changed, turning the pages / I have changed but you remain ageless carry weight when coming from someone looking back at their life, not towards it. It’s just a great song, but it’s hard not to wish it was kept in the vault for just a minute longer. Say You Love Me is one of the best pop songs ever written. I genuinely think it’s a top three Fleetwood Mac song as well, it’s just so charismatic and charming you can’t help but smile and nod your head as it plays. It’s the precursor to Rumours You Make Loving Fun, and it’s so nice to hear a truly upbeat Christine tune. I love Buckingham’s guitar solo too - it’s just all around perfect in ways the human mind can’t comprehend. What makes a song good? Can it not just be perfect in every respect and loved for that fact alone? 

Fleetwood Mac performing Say You Love Me in 1975

I know it must seem like my favoritism of Stevie Nicks is a backbone of every piece of Fleetwood Mac themed writing I do, but I regret to inform you that when you are Stevie Nicks and the two songs you contribute to an album - your major label debut, mind you - are Rhiannon and LANDSLIDE, well… you’re due for a hefty dose of favoritism from just about anyone with an ounce of sense in their head. Landslide, what can be said? One of the most perfect songs ever written, a song that only gets better and better as the years go by, making it hard to believe she was no more than 26 writing it. She comes across so worldly and wise in the three minutes, an understanding of love, loss, and change coming across in some of the most simple and universal lyrics that convey those larger than life feelings. The simple guitar part from Buckingham as she sings of their fading relationship does more here than anything on Rumours in my honest opinion. Time makes you bolder, even children get older / And I’m getting older too. It also works so well as one of those perfect songs that benchmarks so many different parts of an artists life. When she sang it here it feels like a woman with her whole life ahead of her as she makes the decision to put herself first. In the 1990s, on the reunion tour, it was an admission that things were different now, but still able to scrape by. Now, it’s a tribute to Christine with a heartbreaking twist that change can sometimes come in the worst ways. There was no writing like her at this time. Her songs were so strong on this album alone that despite the fact Christine and Lindsey were inserting some of their career best songs, they are overshadowed in two show stopping numbers from one of the genuine greatest to ever do it. 

Fleetwood Mac performing Landslide in 1997

World Turning is actually a collaboration between Chrinstine and Lindsey, the first of many, and is such a great introduction to their work together. In bridges the two halves of Fleetwood Mac so well, the plucky acoustic guitars that remind of Oh Well and the Peter Green era, and the catchy harmonines as the song progresses. It's the closest thing to a completed group song on the whole album, not as cohesive as The Chain but still a pretty damn good effort. Sugar Daddy is a pleasent listen, but it doesn't really stand out in the grand scheme of the album. It's a Christine tune so it's good, obviously, but it's probably her weakest output on the album. The album closes with might just be my favorite Lindsey Buckingham song: I’m So Afraid. This song is just so damn good, the mysterious aura around the unspecified lyrics paired with the anxiety-inducing instrumentation makes it the perfect soundtrack for a movie that was never made. His delivery gets more and more strained as the song goes on, like he’s running from something that no one knows but himself. It’s The Who’s Behind Blue Eyes without the payoff - always building but leaving you anticipating until it just ends. 

I've gone on time and time again about how overrated I find Rumours - it's just so underwhelming compared to any other release they put out - but self-titled almost illuminates certain aspects of it's appeal to me. You listen to this album, all the wild and catchy moments feeling so new and fresh and then they are honed to perfection on Rumours. If anything, the disjoined, un-assuming sounds of this album are what make it so much more enjoyable to me. To pack so much into what was their last chance at stardom and come out as the victorious kings and queens is a truth to behold.

There’s something so pure about Fleetwood Mac (1975). It’s everyone making some of their best songs, playing at the height of their powers, throwing everything in hopes that it sticks. Fleetwood Mac had been throwing everything to see if it sticks for a long time, but this was their lighting in a bottle moment. Suddenly, it didn’t matter how many times they struck out because the homerun was that impressive of a payoff. 

Who cares what parts make up the ship at the end of the day, as long as it sails.