Now, I love the music of Fleetwood Mac, deeply. But I have to admit I didn't know the intricacies of their coke-fuelled, cobweb-like incestuousness. Over the weekend, I read Storms, a book by Carol Ann Harris, who spent a good part of the bands heyday as the girlfriend and lover of Lindsay Buckingham. I devoured it in one hungover Sunday. If you love their music, or even just love rock-biographies, then I suggest you track a copy down. I have to admit, the description of the initial stages of their relationship made me cry because it was very strong, romantic and beautiful. The inside view of the terrifying nature of Stevie Nicks and the interaction between the band were fascinating, and if I had a dollar for every time I read the phrase "and then a plate with a mound of cocaine was presented and the band fell upon it..." I would be a far wealthier woman than I am now. Don't you think it's sad that our lives have become so sanitised and controlled these days? I mean, I can't imagine a band living in the way that the Stones or Fleetwood Mac lived - visits to Eric Clapton's unfurnished castle in a snowstorm, Annie Leibowitz shooting them for the cover of Rolling Stone in the tiny spare bedroom...
0 comments:
Post a Comment