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The Independent
October 17, 2024
October 17, 2024
With lobster and champagne arriving at the studio by the crateload, the making of Fleetwood Mac’s radical 12th album is pure rock’n’roll history. As the album turns 45 this week, Mark Beaumont speaks to Lindsey Buckingham about those storied sessions, and going his own way after the commercial success of ‘Rumours’
For Lindsey Buckingham, making Tusk was akin to following Jurassic Park with some small indie cult flick. “Here we are in Spielberg-land,” he says of life after selling 16 million copies of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours in 1977, en route to its eventual 40 million global sales. “But if you’re willing to do what you want to do and lose nine-tenths of your audience, then you’re Jim Jarmusch or somebody. That’s what I’ve been valuing ever since Tusk.”
On its 1979 release, 45 years ago this week, Tusk was one of the boldest, bravest, and most bewildering records in rock’n’roll history, the very grandest of rock follies. Fleetwood Mac were following Rumours, the ninth-best-selling album of all time, with this experimental, often ramshackle double record full of junkyard clatter, Kleenex box drums and a full-on marching band. A record that was willing to risk the sort of monumental folk-rock success most bands can only dream of in order to stay creatively invigorated and relevant within an evolving post-punk landscape.
At the time, Tusk sold four million albums: a career-making phenomenon for most acts but a major knockback for Fleetwood Mac. However, as their late-Seventies era has been rediscovered and re-evaluated by subsequent generations, Tusk has become regarded as a triumph of art and creativity over the crass demands of mainstream commerce.
“There was a certain amount of esteem that it did garner from people who might have thought Rumours maybe a little too safe or a little too decadent or a little too California,” the former Fleetwood Mac singer and guitarist, now 75, says down the line from his Californian home, happy to discuss a record that acts as an origin story for his decades of musical exploration since. “But it did take a number of years for it to reveal itself. People, younger artists especially, began to appreciate it, not just for the creativity but for the reason it was done. They could see that there was a method to the philosophy of it.”
Tusk is arguably the most punk record of the Seventies; the ultimate in nonconformist, anti-commercial artistic expression with far, far more than a last-minute punt deal with Virgin Records on the line. For Buckingham, though – relatively fresh in Fleetwood Mac, having joined with then partner Stevie Nicks on New Year’s Eve 1974 and hit the biggest of big times on just his third album release – it was merely the natural next step of an artist following the instincts that were serving them so well.
“With our first album [1975’s seven-million-selling Fleetwood Mac] and then with the Rumours album, everything we’d done had been from our gut, from our heart,” he says. “And [Tusk] was where we wanted to go creatively and emotionally.” The inevitable “far greater, extreme expectations” from their label Warner Bros to repeat the formula of Rumours seemed counterintuitive: this was the Rumours formula.
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