Lindsey Buckingham's carefully crafted arrangements weren't just poetic, they were incitement to an emotional meltdown. Suddenly, Stevie Nicks didn't sound so sexily anguished she sounded broken. For three months, I mooched around zombie-like. Lovesick, angry and bitter, I began to find Rumours painful to listen to (although I did nothing but). We were almost seven years into our marriage and something began to itch. Having loved and lived the album to an extensive degree, at some point last summer my relationship began to unravel.
I forced the singles into party playlists, threw a strop in a club because I just wanted to go home and listen to Gold Dust Woman, and once spent 10 hours in a parked car with two friends during Latitude festival, just so we could listen to Rumours on repeat. Why have one couple in the band splitting up when you can have two? Why spend six weeks in the studio when you can spend six months? And why not hoover up so much cocaine you feel compelled to give your dealer a credit in the sleeve notes? (To the label's relief, they didn't in the end said dealer died before the album's release.)įor the next eight months, my husband and I danced around the living room, took long drives and did the laundry to the sound of the Mac. Drink, drugs and divorce weren't new to rock'n'roll but Fleetwood Mac took them to cartoonish near-parody that I, coming from a fairly histrionic family prone to high drama, could relate to. It's also the drama attached to the album's creation. The revelations were numerous: no, that wasn't an abominable Corrs cover, Dreams was beautiful dream pop! Yes, The Chain was used as the Formula One theme tune but it's also One Of The Greatest Songs Ever Written!īut it was never just about the music. The rest of that weekend, and many more after, was spent with Rumours playing in the background.
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