In 1977, rock ‘n roll history was made. Though hardly unaccustomed to fame, Fleetwood Mac would ascend into a whole new realm of superstardom following the release of their eleventh studio album, Rumours. Each song offered glimpses into the inner workings of a band which was close to self-destructing, with personal relationships between band members horribly fractured.
Despite such tensions, the group persevered, and conceived a record that continues to capture hearts and minds of music fans across the globe. Considered one of the greatest albums of all time, Rumours has now sold an estimated 40 million copies worldwide, is certified 20x platinum in the US alone, and has been on the Billboard 200 for over 40 years thanks to its enduring, generation-spanning popularity.
Its legacy, obviously, is undeniable, but is Rumours actually Fleetwood Mac’s best album? While it's undoubtedly a work of genius, I'd argue that the group's 1987 release, Tango In The Night, is far more deserving of that title.
Tango In The Night flowered from similarly rocky ground. On the outside, its songs are joyous, free-spirited and even erotic, yet its aural pleasure is once again born from pain. For at the time it was recorded, Fleetwood Mac were as dysfunctional as ever.
The album only materialised thanks to the persuasive charms of founding drummer Mick Fleetwood, who was insistent that guitarist Lindsey Buckingham take the lead and repurpose what was intended as a solo album project into Fleetwood Mac’s next release. At the time, Stevie Nicks was fighting cocaine addiction, following her recent check-in at a rehabilitation centre, which inspired the hopeful Welcome To The Room…Sara (she was admitted under the pseudonym Sara Anderson, an amalgam of her best friends’ names). Fleetwood too was struggling with his dependency on drugs and alcohol, and had been declared bankrupt, while bassist John McVie suffered an alcohol-induced seizure, a wake-up call which would force him into sobriety. These fraught personal issues naturally impacted upon the band members' historically fragile relationships.
When the album was finally completed following 18 gruelling months in the studio, tensions came to a head with a physical fight between former lovers Nicks and Buckingham after the latter revealed he would not be joining Fleetwood Mac on the road. In hindsight, this decision came as no surprise, as the guitarist considered it “the worst recording experience” of his life. After unshackling himself from the group's toxic dynamic, he was subsequently replaced by guitarists Billy Burnette and Rick Vito for the album’s follow-up, 1990’s Behind The Mask.
Though regarded by Buckingham as the band's “darkest period”, something beautiful emerged from the chaos. Working from his home studio in California as co-producer alongside Richard Dashut and engineer Greg Droman, Buckingham acted as the record’s sole creative leader, battling exhaustion and a sense that he was under-appreciated by his bandmates.
The work he oversaw was a meticulous undertaking, expedited by experimentation and a reliance on new music technology, rather than the tried-and-tested studio band approach that they had worked with previously. Inspired by the airy openness of Kate Bush’s music, Buckingham utilised a Fairlight CMI sampler, describing its highly tedious process of complex layering as “a lot like painting a canvas”, and something “best done in solitude”.
There was a lot of trial and error. Tapes would be sped-up, slowed-down and re-recorded due to Buckingham’s scrutinising need for perfection, and the limitations of the new tech proved more complex than they had originally imagined. To stop the record from glitching, the tapes even spent a night in a refrigerator. It was incredibly hands-on, and yet most of his bandmates spent their time partying in an RV which they had parked on Buckingham’s driveway.
Altogether, Nicks only spent two weeks in the studio. Not wanting to run into Buckingham’s then-girlfriend Cheri Casperi, she was moreover distracted by her addiction struggles, which evolved into a dependency on the anxiety medication Klonopin and brandy. As a result, the vocals she had laid down were lacklustre and quickly deleted, replacement parts often pieced together from other recording sessions. She contributed three songs to the record, the gorgeously haunting When I See You Again, the aforementioned Welcome To The Room…Sara, and the wildly romantic Seven Wonders, her writing credit cheekily bestowed via a misheard lyric, originally by Sandy Stewart. These songs are perfectly Stevie; magical, shimmering and tragically poetic. While her conflicting personal circumstances might not have allowed her to play such an integral part overall, her presence within the album is felt throughout. Like a disembodied spirit, her vocals echo out obscured behind the lush expanse of sparkling synth. Elsewhere, they take centre stage, a sorceress at her most enchanting.
An archetypal 1980s release, Tango In The Night captured the era’s flamboyance without the tack. For me, it harks back to the esoteric beauty of their 1975 eponymous album, avoiding the overly accessible poppiness of Rumours, pinpointing Fleetwood Mac in their most distinctive form. There's the mystique and sensuality of Stevie, the oddball eccentricism of Lindsey, Mick's tantric, animalistic drumming, John's velvet-warm bass lines, and spectacular crooning and songwriting by Christine.
Sensual, carnal and often as bewitchingly wild as its lavishly-foliaged cover by Brett-Livingstone Strong, the album starts with Big Love, a risqué grunt-littered creation by Lindsey (who takes on both the female and male parts by sampling his voice with a variable speed oscillator). Later on, he helms Caroline, a steamy, mystical ode to his former girlfriend Carol Ann Harris, grounded by a hypnotic, daring groove. Then there’s the title-track, intoxicating in its otherworldly mood and accentuated by Lindsey’s euphoric guitar solo that can only really be described as a spiritual experience. Of course, there’s also fan favourites/singles Everywhere and Little Lies, both Christine contributions and wonderfully charming. Christine additionally finds perfection on Isn’t It Midnight, a racing, snare-snapping dance-y number, coloured in twilight hues and by an unfamiliar urgency present in her vocal, full of deep longing.
Though its foundations were dug in darkness, the album emerged through the storm as a symbol for healing. Where Rumours soundtracked the start of the band breaking down, Tango In The Night was assembled from the long-shattered pieces, a turning point in their tumultuous story. A restorative tonic, the album offers comfort, while simultaneously dancing through wild, unknown territories, full of bohemian spirit. The songs also sit together as one large complementary unit, in contrast to the disjointed nature of Rumours.
It was to be the last Fleetwood Mac album from their ‘classic’ line-up, and for this writer, the absolute pinnacle of their output.
