Fleetwood Mac Reunion eases memories of their bitter breakup

Chicago Tribune November 22, 1997

Rumours of Fleetwood Mac's demise are exaggerated -- for the time being

Is the Mac Truly Back?
Rumours of Fleetwood Mac's demise are exaggerated -- for the time being
By Steve Appleford - Thursday, Oct 30 1997
Houston Press

This is an odd bit of paradise for Lindsey Buckingham. He's ensconced in a plush East Hollywood recording studio, eyes closed, his bare feet tapping at the hardwood floor as he listens to a playback of "Bleed to Love Her," another forceful blend of acoustic guitar and tortured romance from the singer/guitarist. His hands beat silently against imaginary drums. Maestro Buckingham looks like a happy man.

More remarkable is the reason for this musical bliss. It's right there on the video monitor in front of him, confirming that Buckingham isn't here working on some long-awaited solo project, but that he's somehow reunited with Fleetwood Mac for the first time since abruptly quitting that fraying superstar act in 1987. Buckingham is a little surprised himself.

"If you had asked me six or eight months ago if I would be doing this, I would have said no," Buckingham says gravely. The singer/ guitarist had his reasons for leaving Fleetwood Mac a decade ago, even as it was enjoying a new surge in popularity. Various forms of excess had taken their toll. There had also been lingering resentments between him and singer Stevie Nicks in the years after the breakup of their romance in 1977. But most profound for Buckingham, the band had taken a disturbingly commercial direction in the 1980s, and thus could no longer fulfill his dreams of off-center studio wizardry.

"The priorities had gotten a little screwed up," he says. "A lot of people were having personal problems, and it was not a nurturing atmosphere creatively. It was very unfocused. Now that a lot of [that] doesn't exist, I don't know. I have to say I'm enjoying just sharing the situation with these people."

There's a beat of hesitation in his voice, as though he were still trying to convince himself that he should even be here. But the good vibes seem real enough among Nicks, singer/pianist Christine McVie, bassist John McVie and drummer Mick Fleetwood, all of whom inadvertently reunited this year during the making of a still-unfinished Buckingham solo effort, his first since 1992's Out of the Cradle. "Nobody's pissed off anymore," says Nicks. Maybe so. But the ultimate test is coming now, with Fleetwood Mac's current 40-date national tour, which will deliver the band to the Summit on Sunday.

For the moment, Buckingham's taking a break from mixing The Dance, a new live release culled from the MTV special of the same name. He soon takes a call from Reprise Records president Howie Klein, and you can almost feel the steam rising at the other end of the line as Buckingham describes which major hit songs won't be on the disc. Afterward, he laughs. "Everything," he says, "is about that far from the fan."

Buckingham is dressed in casual black, the hair at his temples and chest a subtle gray -- all the band members are now, after all, in their late 40s or early 50s -- and he slouches comfortably on a porch just outside the control room. The studio overlooks a badminton net and a jungle paradise of green, right in the midst of urban Los Angeles; it's where the band (except for the laissez-faire John McVie) made almost daily visits before going on tour. At a nearby table, Fleetwood speaks quietly into a telephone as Christine McVie prepares to leave.

Before stepping into her car, the singer stops to kiss Buckingham on the cheek. "Good-bye, Lindsey," says Christine, looking reed thin in a T-shirt and tinted glasses. "Don't stress yourself out too much."

That's a tall order in a band that has thrived most when suffering the greatest turmoil. In 1977, Fleetwood Mac discovered profound inspiration in their own shattered relationships for the 20-million-selling Rumours release. That year saw the breakups of Buckingham and Nicks, Fleetwood's marriage and that of the McVies. The result was music energized by bitterness (Buckingham and Nicks) and romantic faith (Christine McVie). Songs were at times accusatory, loving and mystical, with a dark undercurrent that owed much to the ominous brooding of the Mick Fleetwood/ John McVie rhythm section.

For all the tales of bad love on Rumours, it was pure musical escapism, and it connected deeply with the masses. It remains one of the best-selling albums of all time. "We kind of captured the imagination of people back then -- the idea in those days of a sort of heavy-duty alcohol/drug band with broken relationships all kind of singing to one other," Christine says. "We seemed accessible to them, and people related greatly to the content of the songs. And the chemistry between us was awe-inspiring. People used to meet us and feel intimidated when there was more than three of us in a room. It was a pretty heavy-duty thing."

If Rumours was the band's perfect pop document, it took 1979's Tusk to suggest real ambition. It was an unexpected reaction to mass appeal, particularly when compared to the Eagles' utterly disposable atrocity The Long Run, a different kind of reaction to success that was released the same year. Tusk was an outing that eased into focus via gentle strumming and the warm longing of Christine McVie's voice. What immediately followed was a rich fabric of sounds and ideas: Buckingham's subtly twisted rhythms and twangy guitar, the off-kilter piano that opens Nicks's "Sara," the perverse recruiting of the USC Marching Band for a horns-and-drum section on the title track. And throughout, listeners could hear the blissful sense of freedom in Buckingham's voice.

"That was probably my favorite time in the band," Buckingham says now, "because I felt the most empowered and the most spontaneous in terms of understanding what I was doing and why I was doing it."

The ultimate source of Buckingham's frustration within Fleetwood Mac originated not in Tusk's commercial disappointment (if two top ten singles and sales above four million can be called disappointing), but with the shift in internal politics that determined experimentation was not the way to continued riches, and therefore not the way for Fleetwood Mac. So what followed were records that were smooth and safe, leaning heavily on tested hit-making formulas. A Buckingham solo career was inevitable.

Buckingham was not the only notable talent within the band, but his was the vision that held it together. In 1987, Fleetwood Mac were met with renewed popularity and critical acclaim for Tango in the Night, a CD of real pop craftsmanship, but with emotions that sounded more manufactured than before. The heavy breathing of the song "Big Love" notwithstanding, the heat within Mac was largely gone.

By then, Fleetwood Mac was more an obligation than a useful venue for Buckingham. The band had ceased to be the setting where the singer bared his tortured soul, becoming instead merely a profitable hit factory, designed to keep the old fans happy during their morning commutes. When Tango in the Night was finished, after a year of sessions in his garage studio, Buckingham announced that he could not be part of a scheduled tour and essentially quit the band.

The quintet's only high-profile reunion came as a result of the 1992 presidential election, after Bill Clinton adopted the band's "Don't Stop" as his campaign song. When he was elected, Clinton requested that the late-'70s lineup of Fleetwood Mac reunite for his inaugural celebration and perform the song as the climax of a show populated by the likes of Barbra Streisand and a uniformed Michael Jackson. Even John McVie, now an American citizen and staunch Republican, was ready to oblige. Only Buckingham was hesitant, but Nicks finally convinced him to participate.

"I thought it was touching that for the first time you had a president who was openly professing his alliance [with] rock and roll," Buckingham says with a shrug. "That gave off a sense of possibility that maybe didn't really pan out."

If there were any hopes within the band of a permanent reunion, it was soon clear that Buckingham didn't share them. "It was a one-off thing, and I don't think anyone thought much beyond that show," Christine says. "At the airport as we left to come back to L.A., it was pretty much, 'Well, see you around....' " Soon after their return, Nicks quit the band.

"At the inauguration I just realized I wanted it to be back the way it was, or I didn't want to be in it anymore," says Nicks, who had remained committed to the band even as her solo career took off. (Indeed, she has just signed a new five-release deal with Reprise and plans to head into the studio after the Fleetwood Mac tour.) "For me, it made me realize that it had to be that five, or it couldn't be. I couldn't continue to be in a Fleetwood Mac that didn't have Lindsey in it."

Fleetwood Mac was formed in 1967 by London blues guitarist Peter Green, an alumnus of John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. It was a different kind of outfit then, a quintet of dedicated blues fanatics. Green named the group after his Fleetwood/McVie rhythm section largely because he wasn't interested in the sort of "Clapton is God" hero worship that was already heading his way.

That rhythm section formed the spine of an ever-changing lineup after Green's departure in 1970. "I'm not a singer/songwriter," Fleetwood says. "I'm a drummer who's a good organizer. And I love what I do with a passion, and I still have a passion that's intact. My setup is, I have to keep this going in order to function. What will I do? Who will I play with? I can't play in my front living room. I need a band. John and I are a couple of gigsters."

By 1975, Fleetwood had heard a little-noticed release by a duo called Buckingham-Nicks. The two singer/songwriters were struggling just to pay the bills; Nicks worked as a waitress in coffee shops and restaurants around Los Angeles, and Buckingham toured as a sideman to a fading Phil Everly. When Fleetwood called, the couple spent their last few dollars on old Fleetwood Mac vinyl, searching for something they could identify with. "I had to say to Lindsey, 'Well, I'm very tired of being a waitress, so I definitely think we should join this band,' " Nicks recalls.

Nicks had wanted to be Joni Mitchell, but instead she ended up a singer with a strange, raspy vibrato. Critics weren't immediately won over. She particularly remembers one reviewer describing her vocals as the sound of a "bleating goat." Still, the vocals were memorable. And the eventual result was a voice as distinctive as any other in '70s music, as much an acquired taste as Robert Plant or Johnny Rotten.

The self-titled Fleetwood Mac effort, released in 1975, was immediately successful; it sold four million copies and then was followed by Rumours. "It was great," Nicks says. "It made us all a mess. We did a lot of drugs -- we're all lucky to be alive. We had a great time; there was no getting around it. Anybody tells you any different, they're lying. It was incredible."

That excess sent her to the Betty Ford Clinic a decade ago, and the bloated, dazed, black-magic woman who appeared on at least one solo tour bore little resemblance to the fresh-faced California girl who had met Buckingham as a high school student. But today she's slimmed down and garbed in her usual black chiffon, sipping hot tea. "It's hard to be really famous," she shrugs, "but it's hard to be really poor and not famous."

Fleetwood Mac was, for one moment, the biggest band in the universe, seemingly oblivious to the movements of punk and disco then swirling around them. They were instead awash in limousines and private jets and Grammy Awards, and they became easy targets for the American punk movement for what it viewed as appalling rock-star excess.

Even today Buckingham sounds bitter about the punk attacks. But if the likes of Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles helped give the Los Angeles punk movement some of its fire, L.A. punks should be grateful to them, even if the band's real life wasn't so simple. It's with some irony that contemporary punk-based acts such as the Smashing Pumpkins and Hole now refer to Fleetwood Mac as one of their great inspirations.

"We were their age when we started, and we're still doing it today," Nicks says of her close friendships with Courtney Love and Billy Corgan. "So maybe we give them hope."

Like the Sex Pistols last year, Fleetwood Mac's return to the concert stage now will signify nothing more than nostalgia unless it leads the quintet back into the studio, where their work always mattered the most. The final version of The Dance isn't exactly a revelation, though the band does inject some contemporary fire into the old songs. And the inclusion of four new tunes, including the torrid "Bleed to Love Her," suggests the band again has a future -- if, that is, they choose to take it.

Fleetwood Mac performs Sunday, November 2, at the Summit, San Antonio, TX. Tickets are $36.25 to $101.25. For info, call 629-3700.

Fleetwood Mac delivers old songs, new songs and fun

Fleetwood Mac Live at Delta Center

Las Vegas, NV - October 28, 1997

The Desert News October 29, 1997

Fleetwood Mac Back With Album, Video

Reprise's The Dance' Marks `Rumours' Anniversary

BY LARRY FLICK

and MELINDA NEWMAN

Billboard Magazine

August 16, 1997

**NEW YORK** - On Aug. 19, Reprise Records will commemorate the 20th anniversary of Fleetwood Mac's landmark "Rumours" recording with "The Dance," a live album culled from an MTV special that reunites the band's classic lineup of Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Mick Fleetwood, Christine McVie, and John McVie. The set will trigger a 40-city U.S. fall tour that will put the group on the road together for the first time since 1982.

The 17-track collection, which combines four new songs with familiar tunes, was gathered from three performances on a Warner Bros. Studios soundstage in June. The 90-minute MTV special, which will begin airing on Tuesday (12), will be issued Aug. 26 on home video via Warner Reprise Video, with a DVD release planned for Sept. 23. A laserdisc version of the show will be handled by Image Entertainment and will be offered Sept. 23.

"This has become a monumental event that pays long-overdue tribute to a band that continues to have immeasurable influence on new musicians," says Craig Kostich, senior VP of artist development/creative marketing (U.S.) at Reprise. "These songs sound as strong now as they did when they were first released. Judging from early interest in this project, people are still clearly very turned on by them."

The extensive marketing strategy behind "The Dance" started to unfold on July 22, when Reprise issued the album's first emphasis track, "Silver Springs," to pop, AC, and mainstream rock radio formats. Since then, the Nicks-fronted tune—which was originally recorded for "Rumours" but did not make the final track listing—has gathered airplay on 47 stations, with audience impressions of 3.8 million, according to Broadcast Data Systems. WNOK, a top 40 station in Columbia, S.C., played "Silver Springs" more than a dozen times its first week out, but PD Jonathan Rush says it's too early to determine the ultimate fate of the song. "I think the album will do very well, but will the single do well? I don't know. It doesn't jump off the radio quite like we'd like it to," he says. However, Rush believes it was a good choice for a first single as a way to bridge the gap between the past and the present. "I think it's kind of neat that it was an old song that was never on an album, and here's a revised edition recorded by the same party in a new era."

Reprise widened the radio scope of "The Dance" by issuing a promotional CD pressing of "The Chain" on Aug. 4. "We're planning to go several cuts deep into this album," Kostich says, noting that the label will eventually focus on the set's new songs, which hark back to the sound of the band's heyday.

Since word of the Fleetwood Mac reunion has circulated for months, retailers are anticipating a strong consumer response to "The Dance." "We're already getting a strong buzz on this; the word has been out for a long time," says Eric Keil, buyer for Compact Disc World, a New Jersey chain. "People have been asking about it and when it is coming out, when they can get it. We put Fleetwood Mac albums in a [summer] promotion, and the 'Greatest Hits' and 'Rumours' flew out of the stores. We know there are people out there who still love this band. This has the potential to be big, not as big as [the Eagles'] 'Hell Freezes Over,' but it could approach that. That was a monster for us."

Television exposure beyond MTV—which has already begun airing clips of "Silver Springs" and "The Chain" from the special—will play a vital role in the marketing of the album. VH1 will air a condensed, 60-minute version of the special in September and has designated Fleetwood Mac as the network's artist of the month in October. VH1 has also recently featured "Rumours" in a recent episode of its "Classic Albums" series.

Additionally, various members of the band are tentatively slated for a string of high-profile stints on shows, including "The Rosie O'Donnell Show," "Good Morning America," and "The Tonight Show With Jay Leno." Most of these appearances will be made before Fleetwood Mac begins its tour in mid-September. Dates for the trek were still being confirmed at press time.

The seeds of the band's reunion were sowed earlier this year. Fleetwood and Buckingham had been working together on Buckingham's solo project, so for Fleetwood, the reunion seemed like a natural progression. "I was really excited," he says. "I felt we had already met musically somehow because I had been working with Lindsey for over a year, or being there and being supportive. I knew the creative light was alive. It was not like a business manager called up and said, 'You've been offered $20 billion to reconvene.' It was not like that."

Fleetwood had disbanded the group two years ago, only after different permutations failed to ignite. "I was a person that very much tried to keep Fleetwood Mac together at any cost, literally," he says. "It has been my life, and the letting go was a decision John [McVie] and I made. Every brick wall, people would say this is the end, but keeping it going was the only thing I knew. We'd had such a cycle of reinventing ourselves as a band. After the [1995] album with Billy [Burnette] and Bekka [Bramlett], we realized that we weren't going anywhere, and that was a major thing for me to admit, and it took me a little time to absorb that."

For Fleetwood, it was a chance to realize that he could survive in a world without Fleetwood Mac. "I truly had let go, and that was good. I sobered up and changed my life; there was a different life to be had, and it was a good one. I know now that I can function without the [band]."

But to Nicks, functioning without Fleetwood Mac was never a question. "We can all go our separate ways for periods of time, but we always seem to come back to each other," she says. "There's a connection between each of us that has nothing to do with business. When I got the call about doing this, I took a deep breath, and then I said yes."

Because Buckingham was recording a new solo album, he was the hardest member to convince to come back; however, no reunion would have happened without his participation. His decision was based somewhat on the clout a reunion would give him when it came time to return to his solo work. "A lot of people seem to think that if you make an album every four years or so, as I do, there was nothing to be lost in doing the reunion, and possibly a great deal to be gained in terms of visibility and opening political doors," he says.

"The hardest part was thinking about putting down [an album] I'd been working on for two years plus and just leaving it on the back burner," he continues. "[Warner Bros. Records chairman/CEO] Russ Thyret called me and said, 'Are you doing this [reunion]?' And I said, 'Give me until the first of April,' and I just took a chance, and I can't say I'm sorry. I'm a different person now. It's a great thing for everybody in the group. I mean, I feel like I'm giving something to these people who have contributed to my life."

After Buckingham agreed to the reunion, the band began rehearsing immediately on April 1 for the MTV taping. "We thought MTV was Fleetwood Mac adverse, but they weren't," says Buckingham. "We rehearsed for six or seven weeks, which wasn't quite enough. I think there was a general view that this thing may disintegrate in a week, and I was gonna do my best to make sure it wasn't me that made that happen. But, you know, Stevie is in a really good place, and there was something good about it. You just have to keep watching yourself to make sure that you don't get petty. I went in and I tried to make nice, and it wasn't hard. It's sweet, it's nostalgic; you could cry over it if you let yourself."

Nicks says there were actually quite a few tears shed during the last of the three shows the band played for the special. "In my heart, I knew that final show was the one that we would use, and I paced myself emotionally. Something clicked as we started to play that night. The magic was there again, only we weren't mad at each other anymore. I looked into Lindsey's eyes during so many of the songs, and the tears came. It was uncontrollable. And it was a beautiful night for us and everyone in the audience."

Buckingham was pleased with the wide demographics the taping attracted. "There really was a nice element of a younger, 20s and 30s crowd, which was great, because a lot of those people learned about us from their parents, or from the rekindled interest in the band since Billy Corgan and a few others have said, 'Fleetwood Mac is not the enemy.'"

Nicks agrees, noting the previously untapped young audience that "Gold Dust Woman" reached after Courtney Love covered the "Rumours" cut with Hole late last year. "She claims to know more about me and my music than I can even remember—which is terrifying but probably very true," Nicks says with a laugh. Love will interview Nicks for Spin magazine this fall.

Buckingham confesses it's been "surprisingly pleasurable" reuniting with his bandmates. "It's been kind of a trip, because we're getting along really well. There's very little of the baggage left that was

 there when I left in 1987," he says. Like Buckingham, Fleetwood's antennae were up, checking for signs that the reunion might not work. "I would always be looking; that's my nature," he says. "We know each other so well. You know what to do to upset someone, and you know what to do to make the situation good; that's what I do with anybody. I would be watching for what anyone would construe as the danger signal. The reality is that these five people have the capability of managing themselves, and we did for years. Basically, we were always very successful, and part of that success was because it was an unusual animal, this thing called Fleetwood Mac. And it came from within."

The live forum of the MTV special created the perfect environment for the band to reconvene, because, as Fleetwood says, creating a new studio album would have been "too stressful. This is a great way of celebrating who we are and then reinventing some of the songs and just saying, 'Shit, we haven't played for years' and have it be really good. I truly think the band is playing 40% better than it ever has before."

While there are no announced plans other than "The Dance" and a 40-city tour, Buckingham doesn't know if the reunion will end after the last date is played. "Well, if you'd asked me a year ago whether I would be doing this, I would have said 'absolutely not,' but here I am, so I'm not going to discount anything." Nicks is equally guarded about the band's future—but admittedly optimistic. "Fleetwood Mac will never die. Whether any of us will fess up to it or not, the spirit of this band will live in each of us forever. And that's a good thing. Some people only dream of the magic we've made—and then we get to revisit it and to build upon it. That is truly a blessing."

Stevie Nicks has been as much an enigma as a consistent platinum-selling act

Stevie Nicks

Since she first exploded on the rock scene in 1975 as the seductive focal point of Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks has been as much an enigma as a consistent platinum-selling act 

By Steven P. Wheeler 

Music Connection July 18, 1994

While her star may not be as high in the black night sky as it was in the late Seventies and early Eighties, Stevie Nicks' career has spanned three decades — twenty years (including eight platinum albums) with Fleetwood Mac and five multi-platinum solo albums - with her latest, Street Angel, likely to follow suit. In short, the lady still commands respect. 

Now, five years after her last solo album the rather lackluster The Other Side Of The Mirror the 46-year-old Nicks has returned to her roots. A sparkling album, Street Angel, harkens back to her Number One solo debut, Bella Donna, and even more so to her days as rock's reigning queen at a time when her former band, Fleetwood Mac, was the biggest act in the music world. 

Recovering from recent eye surgery to correct her lifelong poor vision, we spoke with Nicks from her home in Phoenix, Arizona, where she has been since the infamous Northridge quake earlier this year.  

While Nicks may have kept busy with a greatest hits album (TimeSpace), two solo tours, one Fleetwood Mac album (Behind The Mask), as well as a Mac tour over the past half-decade, the somewhat reclusive superstar agrees that with such a long period between albums, it was time to speak up with the release of Street Angel.

However, she did make clear that there are certain things she never wants to share with her public. "I usually don't do a lot of press, but with this record, I figured that it would only be to my benefit to talk about it a little bit.

But I don't really like people knowing everything about me. I like being a mystery, and I even think I'm pretty mysterious to the people who know me really well. There is a part of me that isn't available to the public, except in my songs. When I'm writing I really do strive to be totally honest. I never make up a song. They either come right from my journals or straight out of my head because of something that is happening. It's always been important to me that people think of me as more than just a 'tune-sayer.'"

The obvious difference between Street Angel and her more recent solo projects is the abandonment of a synthesizer-based sound in favor of the more guitar-oriented influences of her past.

guitar-oriented influences of her past. "I think it has a lot to do with what you start out with," states Nicks in a girlish voice which moves in a machine gun rhythm at times. "On The Other Side Of The Mirror, I started out with Rupert Hines, who is an amazing keyboard player, so that whole album sort of went the way of the airy, surreal keyboard and synthesizer thing. It was like being in the twilight zone at times |laughs|. This album was started with (former Eagle] Bernie Leadon and Andy Fairweather Low. So I had two acoustic guitar players and myself for two months at my house in Los Angeles, playing all the songs that I showed them, which was many more than the thirteen on the record. 

"The ones that ended up on the album started to show themselves," continues Nicks. "We were sitting in my English Tudor-style library playing my songs and it was almost like we were preparing to go out on the road as a Kingston Trio kind of act, where we would go out and play little clubs and set up the equipment ourselves (laughs). So this album just started out from a guitarist's point of view, as opposed to piano or synthesizers."

For her part, Nicks hasn't made any final assessment about the album, saying, "I think it's too soon for me to make a judgment, but I think it's a great driving album." 

While she has spent the last twenty years in the often-blinding media spotlight, little is known of Nic ks' formative years when she lived like the gypsy that she would sing about decades later, and something which obviously set the pace for her professional life.

Born in Phoenix, Nicks' family moved to Los Angeles (her other hometown) before popping into a succession of cities due to her father's successful executive career. The cities flew by like the pages of a calendar—first, there was Albuquerque, New Mexico, then El Paso, Texas, and Salt Lake City, Utah. The clan headed back to Los Angeles for Stevie's first three years of high school, before heading north to San Francisco for her final year of high school. 

"It was my senior year, which is a really rotten time to have to move into a new school," recalls Nicks. "You couldn't try out tor cheerleader. You couldn't try out for song leader. You couldn't try out for flag twirler. You couldn't do anything because they had all tried out the previous year. So I was totally crushed because that was my dream at that point."

While Nicks' voice seems to carry a twinge of childhood regret, it's hard to imagine what would have happened if she had been twirling flags on the gridiron, instead of crossing paths with another flower child of the sixties, Lindsey Buckingham, during the summer of 1966. 

"I met Lindsay at the end of my senior year," explains Nicks. "We were at a party and Lindsay and I sang 'California Dreamin" together that night."

However, it wasn't until two years later in 1968, when the twenty-year-old hippie girl would speak with Buckingham again, this time it was over the phone as her future love interest asked her to join his band Fritz. "I had never sang rock before," admits Nicks, "and I certainly had never been in a rock band, but I thought, 'Why not?' So I ended up being in that band with Lindsay for three and a halt years. We practiced every day, and we played some really big shows."

Those early years with Fritz turned out to be perfect training for the future, but Nicks admits that she had no idea of it at the time. "I don't think I would have ever been able to just walk into Fleetwood Mac and been cool about being center front stage if it hadn't been for those three and a half years in Fritz. I would have been totally nervous and 'stagefrighted out.' But Fritz was like an incredible amount of preparation experience, which I didn't really know was preparation at that point." 

Like many unsigned bands, it was the very goal of being discovered which ultimately led to the demise of Fritz, as Nicks and Buckingham got a quick lesson into the ways of the music business. "This producer named Keith Olsen who would go on to work with Fleetwood Mac and Nicks during her solo years! invited the band down to L.A. to do some recording, but it was very obvious that everybody wanted to break Lindsay and I away from the rest of the guys in the band." 

In fact, Nicks now says that it was the dissolution of the band that brought the musical partners into a more personal relationship. "It was the guilt that drove us together," Nicks says with a laugh. "That's why Lindsey and I started going out. We just felt so bad because everyone in Los Angeles was trying to kill our band. I mean, after three and a half years together, these guys were our best pals in the world and they were just being shut out, and it was very obvious."

With the other Fritz members gone, Buckingham/Nicks made their first and only album. While this self-titled cult classic has grown to become one of the most in-demand vinyl albums, it was anything but a commercial success at the time of its 1973 release.

As for the possibility of the album ever coming out on CD, Nicks points an accusatory finger at her former partner. "If Lindsay would just call me back, we would release the album because there are a lot of labels, including Atlantic, who are very interested in it. But Lindsey has just been incommunicado lately, and if he doesn't call me back soon I'm going to put a huge ad in Billboard that says, 'Lindsey Buckingham is the reason that Buckingham/Nicks hasn't been released on CD,' because it's all him. So sign the petition because I'm doing what I can." 

As their debut album basically flopped, the two struggling musicians had no indication of the stardom that was just around the corner. In fact, Nicks was working as a waitress in Hollywood, while Buckingham worked on the music at their apartment near Canter's Restaurant on Fairfax. 

Meanwhile, in another part of town, as Buckingham and Nicks struggled through this period of shattered dreams, an English blues drummer by the name of Mick Fleetwood happened to be visiting Sound City Studios at the tail-end of 1974. 

Fleetwood was searching for studios to record what would be Fleetwood Mac's next album, while at the same time searching for a new guitarist to replace the recently departed Mac guitarist/vocalist Bob Welch. 

During his trip to Sound City, producer Keith Olsen wanted to show Fleetwood the sounds that the studio was capable of producing, so he grabbed a tape that happened to be laying on the console and turned it up. 

The song that came on was the seven-minute epic "Frozen Love" from the Buckingham/Nicks album. Fleetwood was instantly grabbed by the guitarist on the tape and inquired as to who it was. Olsen explained that the guitar player was part of a duo, who probably wouldn't leave his musical partner, who also happened to be his girlfriend. 

Not to be dissuaded, Fleetwood made the call anyway. Nicks picks up the story from here: "We got a call from Mick on New Year's Eve night of 1974 going into '75, asking us to join Fleetwood Mac. At that time, Lindsay and I were really poor. I mean, we were like really starving. We were totally disillusioned, we were both miserable, totally unhappy with each other and the world in general, and I told Lindsay that I thought we should do anything that was going to raise our lifestyle, and he agreed." 

Ironically, Nicks had no idea who or what Fleetwood Mac was at the time. "I went down to the record store that night and bought every Fleetwood Mac album and we listened to all of them from front to back. I was looking to see if there was something that I could add to this band, and I felt that there was a kind of mystical thing throughout the band's history from Peter Green's bluesy guitar to Bob Welch's 'Bermuda Triangle' to Christine's sort of 'airy-fairy' voice, and I thought that it might work. Of course, they didn't need another singer, they needed a guitar player, but they couldn't get Lindsay without me, so they had to take us both." 

As the band hit the road for an extensive tour behind Fleetwood Mac (which became known as the band's White Album), their powerhouse performances brought more converts to the band, with the charismatic and mysterious singer with the strange little voice quickly becoming the center of attention, as the album eventually topped the charts fueled by the Top Ten single "Rhiannon."

However, success didn't come easily, as a series of internal breakups threatened to destroy the band before it had a chance to discover its full potential. First, the marriage of bassist John McVie and keyboardist/vocalist Christine McVie dissolved, as did drummer Mick Fleetwood's marriage and finally Nicks' long-term relationship with Buckingham. 

As Nicks explains, it was anything but a walk in the park during the making of their classic album Rumours in 1976. "In a normal situation, you don't break up with someone and then see them the next day for breakfast. But within Fleetwood Mac, you saw that person the next day, so the sarcasm level went way up and the little digs got to be thousands a day, and people would just slam out of the studio.'' 

Then, Nicks adds this obvious aside, "Great tragedy definitely led to great art. You had five people who were very high-strung and over the edge really easy. Everybody was really screwed up, but we got the greatest rock & roll soap opera out of it." 

The result of this personal turmoil was an album that would spend an incredible 31 consecutive weeks at the top of the charts. In the process, Rumours became the biggest-selling album in history at the time with more than 20 million copies sold to date. 

Following the seemingly endless touring that helped propel Rumours into the record books, the band returned to the studio for work on their Sgt. Pepper-like opus, simply entitled Tusk. 

The recording took longer than the previous two albums combined, as Buckingham's creativity took on a meticulous, almost scientific approach, something that didn't exactly endear him to the rest of the members. 

Yet, a steady diet of booze and Peruvian Marching Powder enabled the group to get through it and may go a long way in explaining the double album's somewhat scattered focus. 

"Tusk took thirteen months to make, and you had to be there every day," Nicks says without a hint of exaggeration. "There was no calling in sick, you were there from two in the afternoon straight through to seven the next morning, and sometimes we didn't even go home. It was really intense, and it probably was as nuts as we got. The only thing that Fleetwood Mac ever did in abundance was a lot of cocaine and a lot of drinking, and luckily we never did anything else."

Nicks goes on to say that the pressures of following up two consecutive Number One albums, along with the band's notoriously intense touring schedule, led toa lengthy ride in the fast lane. "Everybody was so tired all the time and really haggard. That's why cocaine was so much a part of our lives; we were just too tired every day to go on. We had commitments here and commitments there, and the record company barking down our backs, asking why the album was taking so damn long. To this day, I don't even know what Tusk was; it was just this intense thing. It's a great story to tell but it wasn't much fun to live." 

Following another extensive worldwide tour behind the multi-platinum Tusk, which failed to top the charts like its two predecessors, Nicks began to look seriously at a solo career. After five years with Fleetwood Mac, Nicks had amassed a large backlog of material and presumably, an equal amount of artistic frustration, which became obvious when the down-to-earth singer explained the reasons behind the launching of her hugely successful solo career.

"I realized that two or three songs every two to three years wasn't enough for me," states Nicks. "Not only was it just two to three songs, it usually wasn't even my favorite two to three songs. The band would hear fifteen to twenty of my songs when we'd do a Fleetwood Mac album, and they'd invariably pick out the two songs that were my least favorite. So my favorite songs would never get used." 

Nicks goes on to say, "By the time I got to Bella Donna, I had tons of songs that I really loved, and nobody was ever going to hear them. It was like I was working for nothing. That's absolutely why I decided to do Bella Donna; to look for other avenues outside of Fleetwood Mac." 

What Bella Donna did was show that Stevie Nicks was not some sort of Lindsay Buckingham puppet, as the album topped the charts in 1981 on the strength of three Top Ten hits—"Leather And Lace," "Edge Of Seventeen" and the Tom Petty-penned "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around."

Returning to the Fleetwood Mac fold a year later, Nicks began to feel the strain of balancing her solo career with the band that made her famous. 

"I had to give up everything to be in Fleetwood Mac for more than fifteen years, and that's not a lie, that's really true. You couldn't have any kind of a normal life to do what I've been doing all these years." 

Nicks goes on to cite the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. "The reason I finally left Fleetwood Mac was that having to go back-and-forth, and back-and-forth got to be too much. This is the first time that I won't have to go back and forth. It was always a pain. I made it work but it really took its toll on me because when Fleetwood Mac got to go to Hawaii for two months and rest, I had to go in the studio for my own thing. Then when all the people who toured with me got to take some time off, I had to go back in the studio with Fleetwood Mac. This will be the first time in fifteen years that I haven't had two demanding jobs."

Having officially quit Fleetwood Mac after their much-publicized performance at the Clinton inauguration, Nicks seems more than a little enthusiastic at the prospects of the future. "I'm totally excited about this because

I don't have to be dreading the fact that I have a whole other job to go home to." 

In the meantime, it's nice to know that Stevie Nicks has returned with arguably her finest album ever, and is set to hit the stage in the coming months and embark on a whole new chapter of her solo career. 

Review/Pop; A Musically Mad Scientist - Lindsey Buckingham

By STEPHEN HOLDEN
Published: April 06, 1993
The New York Times

Lindsey Buckingham might be described as the mad scientist of California pop. The singer, songwriter and guitarist who masterminded the gossamer folk-rock harmonies of Fleetwood Mac's biggest hits is a notorious perfectionist in the recording studio. And at Town Hall on Wednesday evening, in a concert that was part of his first solo tour, he worked with considerable success to recreate the layered textures that have made both his Fleetwood Mac and his solo albums models of a certain kind of meticulous craft.

Especially on his solo albums, Mr. Buckingham has applied his wizardry to the creation of tortured psychodramas in which every sigh of pleasure is balanced by a primal scream or a Gothic nightmare. His newest record, "Out of the Cradle," is an autobiographical song cycle describing a midlife crisis with many characteristics of a nervous breakdown.

In introducing songs from the album on Wednesday, the wiry, frizzy-haired singer talked about their personal associations. A brooding acoustic version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's "This Nearly Was Mine," which he said was his father's favorite song, prefaced "Street of Dreams," a reflection in which a visit to his father's grave sets off howls of loneliness and despair.

Since Mr. Buckingham plays most of the instruments and sings most of the parts on his own recordings, even to begin duplicating what he does by himself in the studio required a nine-member band. He was joined by four guitarists doubling as backup singers, a drummer, a keyboardist, a bassist and two percussionists.

Even though the sound had an impressive clarity, there was something bizarre about finding the stage of Town Hall jampacked with tons of electronic equipment that dwarfed the performers. This sort of technological barrage befits a heavy-metal concert in which the goal is to create a sonic explosion. But it seemed excessive for an artist as quirky and introspective as Mr. Buckingham.

Pumped up to heavy metal levels, such Fleetwood Mac songs as "Go Your Own Way," "The Chain" and "Tusk" sounded overblown, although they had an undeniable visceral clout. When things quieted down, as in "Street of Dreams" and "All My Sorrows" (Mr. Buckingham's freewheeling adaptation of "All My Trials"), the layered voice, guitar and percussion found a blend that was almost as refined as the texture of the recording.