Like Lindsey Buckingham, I'll be going my own way, unfortunately in the other direction, because without him it's just not Fleetwood Mac (to me). The Rumours-era "five fireflies" line-up that nearly all FM fans loved and wished to see is no more. Buckingham joined the band in 1974 with his then-girlfriend, an unknown singer-songwriter named Stevie Nicks, and became its MVP: a producer, guitarist, vocalist, songwriter, and all-around creative force, bringing his brilliance to the band's best albums and tours.
In April he was unceremoniously, unjustly (in my opinion) tossed out of the band after years of hard work and loyalty (shelving solo albums, contributing new songs, and postponing solo tours many times along the way) for disputed reasons (allegedly tour scheduling conflicts). The real reason, however, seems to be that his ex Stevie decided she'd rather work with Mike Campbell, sorrowfully freed from his Heartbreakers duties after Tom Petty's death last fall, than Lindsey. Mick Fleetwood, desperate to keep the band's "star" happy, gave in, canning Buckingham, hiring Campbell, and randomly adding another member, Neil Finn of Crowded House, for male vocal duties.
The band's devoted, long-suffering fans were (and remain) justifiably apoplectic. Even for a group of individuals well-known and well-compensated for its personal and professional melodramas (and resultant line-up switcheroos), this latest band breakdown was a gut punch. It wasn't their first breakup, but it's likely their last.
Although some fans had expressed less-than-enthusiastic sentiments about another cash-grabbing, golden-oldies jaunt around the world (announced tentatively last summer for this summer and emphatically described as not "a farewell tour"), others, like me, desperately wanted to see the band live for the first (and/or possibly final) time.
In November 2016 I watched Stevie perform solo. Last summer I saw Lindsey and Christine McVie live in Raleigh, NC, riding through a tsunami to reach the outdoor venue (courtesy of Uber). I'd hoped both concerts were a warm-up to seeing all five together (not realizing that seeing two-fifths of the band playing FM classics was the closest I'd come), though I knew it might not happen.
Music legends, such as David Bowie, Prince, Chris Cornell, and Tom Petty, are leaving the earth at untimely intervals, so it wasn't a stretch to imagine the band's 70-something-year-olds not hanging on for another tour. And, as I joked to a coworker (prophetically, it seems now), it would take a minor miracle (plus mucho dinero) to wrangle all five together from their lavish holiday lifestyles and various solo pursuits to continue their turbulent and dysfunctional history (an assortment of breakups and reunions starting in the late 80s and stretching through the 90s and into the millennium).
But the band promised to "never break the chain" and that "the sea that divides us is a temporary one, and the bridge will bring us back together." So even when various members used media interviews to take potshots at each other (Stevie: "There's no one I'd rather tour with than Tom Petty"), you had to believe that the money, if nothing else, would bring them back together, at least one more time.
As fall turned to winter, I anxiously awaited a tour-date announcement. (My summer plans were uncomfortably in flux...) I combed fan chat boards, hoping for commiseration and, perhaps, inside information. Anyone questioning the delay was harshly reprimanded for impatience. But as the weeks passed, "rumours" of "trouble" persisted.
Then, in the days before the official breakup announcement, the fan chatter exploded with outlandish stories of a backstage fight (that might or might not have turned physical) at the band's final public event, MusiCares, in January and a subsequent "him or me" ultimatum from Stevie to Mick, with the inevitable result.
I asked a friend and fellow FM fan if she'd heard the stories.She said she hadn't and seemed shocked. Meanwhile, I felt a bit silly for spreading (what I hoped was false) online gossip. But then, later that afternoon, my coworker sent me a link to the news story. It was real, and I was devastated.
Maybe I'm ridiculous for feeling outraged and sad. More accepting fans have told grieving fans to get over it. (You can imagine the fan-forum fireworks...) Truthfully, I wish I could, and I envy those who are excited to see the new line-up.The band doesn't owe its fans anything, of course, but going on with the show (rather than reaching an agreement with all five members or, barring that, preserving its remaining integrity and cancelling the tour) and declaring the latest incarnation "a brand-new band" feels like a slap in the face to Buckingham and his fans and a blatant money-grabbing maneuver.
When tickets went on sale a few weeks ago, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm required to pay $500 (or more) to see a FM tribute band. (To avoid further tarnishing the fab-five's legacy, suggested new-band names include "Fauxwood Mac," "Fleetwood Mashup," "Crowded Mac," and "Mick Fleetwood's All-Star Band.") They (and their fans) deserve better.
If I need a FM fix as they're traversing the country this fall, I'll stay home, reliving their glory days via YouTube, listening to their '70s and '80s albums and rewatching their greatest onstage moment, The Dance.
