This completely unexpected review is the direct result of the serendipitous melding of three disparate phenomena: winter weather in Nice, my ingrained discipline concerning preparation for sex and the determination of mother and daughter to forbid my father from even thinking about coming into the kitchen when we’re preparing a meal.
Climate change variables aside, my favorite time of year in Nice is late winter, when the temperature range is 50-60º F (10-15º C). It doesn’t matter if it’s sunny or showery; all that matters is the temperature. That’s the temperature range I grew up with in San Francisco, and it’s perfect fuck weather for those of us who don leather garments to heighten the sexual experience.
Unlike most people who try to balance the drain of the workweek by partying all weekend, I never go out on Saturday night unless a performer I want to see happens to show up in town. I usually go out for dinner on Friday nights, but that’s more to reconnect with the people I love than to try to obliterate memories of the work week through heavy doses of alcohol. Although I have sex with my partner most weeknights when we’re both in town, we save Saturday night for the longer, more elaborate experiences referred to in the BDSM world as “scenes.” And like professional actors (though nothing we do is an “act”), we engage in deliberate, painstaking preparation for the big night. I won’t bore you with the details, but one fundamental rule is to avoid eating a large meal before a scene. That requires the participants to have a satisfying meal around lunchtime so they have enough stamina to perform at peak levels. “Dinner” before a scene usually consists of something small like a Panisse or bread with cheese—just enough to prevent stomach growl.
It all works out because I usually hang out with my parents on Saturday afternoons, and my mother and I like to cook together. Last Saturday, we were preparing a pasta dish from ingredients we’d scored at a farmer’s market and just as soon as the garlic made contact with the olive oil in the saucepan, we could hear my father, bloodhound that he is, heading directly to the source of the scent. Just as he was about to place one of his big feet on the kitchen floor and say, “Something sure smells good,” my mother and I cried out in unison.
“GET YOUR ASS OUT OF OUR KITCHEN!”
He pulled his foot back and whined from a safe distance. “Sheesh! Just seeing if I could help!”
“If you want to help, put on some music!” I cried.
“Something nice,” my mother added.
“Something nice, huh?” It seemed to take him quite a while to find “nice,” but eventually the music started drifting into the kitchen.
“Ah, good choice,” maman responded within two chords.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve heard this since San Francisco—pre-college.”
“Nice enough?” Dad shouted from a safe distance.
“Yes, beautiful,” maman replied while chopping fresh basil for the pistou.
“It’s coming back to me—this is a nice album,” I opined, but was still drawing a few blanks. “This is . . . early Fleetwood Mac, right?”
“Correct. The Future Games album.”
The album was playing in the background as we sat down to enjoy the meal. One of the melodies caught my attention and I said, “This really is a nice album.”
“It is,” responded my dad in between mouthfuls. “Bob Welch’s début.”
“But . . . what’s his name is still there . . . Danny . . . ”
“Kirwan,” said Dad, filling in the blank.
After the album ended we had a discussion that morphed into trying to establish the definition of a “nice album.” We began by brainstorming a list of albums that could qualify as “nice” based purely on gut feel, then started looking for common themes. The first thing we agreed on was the absence of pretentiousness—any album purported to be “epic” is by definition not a nice album. The second criterion we came up with was “melodies that drift through the air,” one of those vague qualities that comes down to “you know it when you hear it.” We then agreed on the most obvious feature—the sound of a nice album cannot cross the line into “loud or harsh.” The final suggestion sparked some debate as my dad tried to argue that nice albums “make you feel good.” Maman correctly pointed out that both Future Games and Rubber Soul (our nominee for The Beatles’ nicest album) were tinged with melancholy sentiments. When my dad tried to argue the point, I nailed his ass by referring back to the first album he offered during the brainstorming phase: Paul Simon’s Graceland. “Shit, Dad, even ‘You Can Call Me Al’ paints a pretty sad picture.” Maman and I made him feel better by agreeing (somewhat disingenuously) that Graceland qualified as a nice album despite Paul Simon’s epic pretensions, allowing the man of the family to rise from the table with his fragile masculine ego intact.
*****
One of the frustrating things about being a millennial is that most of my generational colleagues have no sense of history—musical, political, cultural—they just don’t give a shit. I’ve never heard a fellow millennial even mention Fleetwood Mac in conversation. Even many members of other generations think of Fleetwood Mac in a very limited way—the band associated with Rumours. Though this may bore the Boomers in the audience who have mastered the band’s complicated lineage, here’s a brief introduction to Fleetwood Mac:
- The only constant members are drummer Mick Fleetwood and bassist John McVie. That’s where the band’s name comes from, and they won a lawsuit to prove it.
- Fleetwood Mac began life as a blues band during the peak years of the British blues movement. Their first album is officially titled Fleetwood Mac, but nearly everyone refers to it as Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac, referring to the band’s lead guitarist and singer. This début album was a smashing success and remains one of the most enjoyable blues records of the era. A gent named Jeremy Spencer contributed slide guitar and some vocals. As was true for so many British musicians of the era, Peter Green developed his chops in John Mayall’s band.
- Peter Green stayed with the band through the third studio album, Then Play On, the first album with Danny Kirwan. Kirwan would emerge as sort of co-leader with Jeremy Spencer on the fourth album, Kiln House. Spencer left the band shortly thereafter. Christine Perfect, aka Christine McVie, who had appeared occasionally on earlier albums, became a full-time member after Kiln House, the name change reflecting her marriage to John McVie.
- Prior to Future Games, an American musician by the name of Bob Welch joined the band, sharing guitar duties with Kirwan. This relationship ended after the follow-up album Bare Trees when Kirwan’s drinking and temper led to some serious altercations with Welch, which in turn led to Kirwan’s dismissal. Welch contributed to five studio albums, and the period from Future Games to Heroes Are Hard to Find is colloquially referred to as the Bob Welch Era or similar designation.
- In 1975, Christine McVie pushed hard for more radio-friendly music to pad her bank account. Welch thought he’d be better off going solo and left the band. Fleetwood Mac replaced him with Americans Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham, became a milquetoast pop band, sold millions of records and bored me to fucking tears.
All my Fleetwood Mac records come from the Peter Green to Bob Welch period; if I do any more Fleetwood Mac reviews, that’s where they’ll come from. Since the British members moved to the States in the mid-70’s and then added two more Yanks, I consider the Nicks-Buckingham version of Fleetwood Mac an American band and subject to my boycott of American artists.
Lucky me. I can’t stand Rumours.
*****
Future Games was poorly received by the critics of the time. From Lloyd Grossman of Rolling Stone:
Future Games is a thoroughly unsatisfactory album. It is thin and anemic-sounding and I get the impression that no one involved really put very much into it. If Fleetwood Mac have tried to make the transition from an energetic rocking British blues band to a softer more “contemporary” rock group, they have failed. If they have simply lost interest, I hope they regain it in time to salvage what was once a very promising band.
Translation: “My limited brain cannot process experiences beyond what I expect to experience. Experiences I do not expect are therefore bad.”
Robert Christgau’s commentary shows how much the man admires what he perceives as his superior ability with wordplay as well as the usual pomposity and factual errors:
These white blues (and hippie rockabilly) veterans shouldn’t have to depend on new recruit Bob Welch’s deftly metallized r&b extrapolation for rock and roll, but unless you count the studio jam, they do. And if the best song on the album isn’t the slowest, that’s only because Welch also has mystagogic tendencies. It’s the simplest in any case: Christine Perfect’s ‘Show Me a Smile.’
Errors galore! Christine was no longer calling herself Perfect but was still good enough to qualify as McVie. Bob Welch actually contributed relatively little to Future Games: he wrote two of the songs (including the title track) and “played mostly rhythm guitar.” To apply the term “mystagogic” to Bob Welch is completely absurd, for “A mystagogue is a person who initiates others into mystic beliefs, and an educator or person who has knowledge of the sacred mysteries of a belief system.” Neither of Welch’s songs comes close to qualifying as a trip into the mystic (though Danny Kirwan’s do).
Dean of American Rock Critics my ass.
Let us correct the record. Future Games balances the impressive songwriting talents of Kirwan, Welch and Christine McVie. Each of those artists put a great deal of effort into crafting those songs, a glaring truth that is obvious to anyone who takes the time to listen to the record. Danny Kirwan is the dominant presence, contributing the three songs most crucial to establishing the reflective mood of the album. If anything, Future Games increased Fleetwood Mac’s “promise” by extending their playing field beyond straight blues-based rock ‘n’ roll.
The expansion of the band’s range is established immediately in the pair of sus2 acoustic guitar chords that form the intro to Kirwan’s “Woman of 1000 Years.” Patterns of sustained and major seventh chords have an elusive, indefinite feel, calling up adjectives like “ethereal,” “dreamy” and “melancholy.” Most songwriters fail to develop chord structures to support them, leading to a vague, uncertain musical statement that lacks a sense of forward movement—songwriter and song remain suspended in a musical vacuum.
Danny Kirwan was not one of those songwriters. “Woman of 1000 Years” has one of the most beautiful and satisfying chord structures I’ve ever heard. When I reproduced the chords on my acoustic guitar, I felt myself moving into a still, reflective space where I was at one with the sheer beauty of the musical progression. I switched to piano and the progression had the same entrancing effect. The sense of movement and wonder is enhanced by subtle changes and additions along the way that keep things challenging and intensely interesting—but not once does a chord feel out of place. Chord charts on the Internet are often hit-or-miss (half the contributors couldn’t tell a minor chord from a major to save their lives), but I found one on Ultimate Guitar that gets it right. If you are a musician, I encourage you to head over there and explore the pattern—the improvisational opportunities are limitless.
Back to our story, the “resolution” chord is Asus2, which effectively means there is no resolution at all—the woman of a thousand years remains an indefinable mystery. Although not specifically identified as such in the lyrics, the woman is certainly a manifestation of the muse, but Kirwan doesn’t limit her role to sparking creativity in the artist. She inspires men on land, sea and sand with her beauty, beguiling them through her mystery, igniting the desire to please her and earn her favor.
AS. IT. FUCKING. SHOULD. BE.
Danny Kirwan’s vocal is beautifully restrained and blends marvelously with Christine McVie’s harmonies. The first guitar solo is a gorgeous display of simplicity, completely consistent with the nature of the composition as it seems to end a bar before its time, avoiding definitive resolution; the complementary guitar fade supplies an appropriately gentle exit. While “Woman of 1000 Years” is hardly your typical album opener, it is a compelling experience nonetheless, establishing a mood for the album that asks the listener to shift gears, slow down and take some time to enjoy the magic of music.
Even nice albums need some kick, and Future Games certainly delivers on that score. Christine McVie’s “Morning Rain” gives her a chance to warm up her piano fingers in a percussive role dedicated to reinforcing the solid rhythm established by the ever-grounded pair of Fleetwood and McVie. I love the way this song opens, lulling the listener into believing the root chord is F# before making a move to establish F# as the tension chord demanding resolution to B major. The sweet bluesy guitar licks that highlight that transition make me smile at the cleverness of the ruse as they settle into the solid groove. For a rock song, Christine’s vocal in the verses (supported by harmony) is comparatively subdued, but soon we learn that she’s been saving her vocal cords for the more enthusiastic performance in the bridge (which IS in F#). The contrast between the two vocal styles adds to the appeal of the song, and even more excitement awaits us in the instrumental passages where the guitarists let loose. I also love the way the piece ends, with Christine and the boys reminding us of the song’s essential melodic nature with a nice round of wordless singing. “Morning Rain” is a tasty little piece promising that Future Games will cover a lot of musical ground.
Although I couldn’t find confirmation of the story, the word on Wikipedia (ahem) is that “What a Shame” was added at the last minute because the album submitted by the band contained only seven tracks and the record company wanted eight. The band responded with a single-key jam with heavy bass featuring Christine’s brother John on saxophone. I’m glad John picked up a few bucks in the process, but other than executing the piece with due professionalism, the band doesn’t sound particularly interested. If they had to include it on the album, it might have been better to move it back into the fourth slot to serve as a brief intermission between “Future Games” and “Sands of Time.” It’s sufficiently low-key so as not to disturb the nice album vibes (and short enough at 2:16), but . . . really?
Moving onto Bob Welch’s Fleetwood Mac début, “Future Games” makes use of the sustained and major seventh chords we heard in “Woman of a 1000 Years,” in this case producing a slight drone effect with the unifying B-note (Em, Cmaj7, Asus2, B7). However, Welch’s piece features clearer resolution to E minor in the verses and G major in the chorus, hinting at a more definitive theme in the lyrics. Despite the unknowable nature of the future, Welch pulls it off by universalizing the message: playing out future possibilities is something everyone does, whether it’s speculating on the afterlife, the possibility of a relationship with this person or that person, or worrying about disasters that may come our way. “I know I’m not the only one to ever spend my life sitting playing future games” is the theme-within-the-theme, highlighting both the all-too-human trait and its inherent danger: playing future games is a way to avoid having to deal with the real world and the real people who inhabit that world. “You invent the future that you want to face,” is a deliciously ambiguous line, as it could mean “you have the power to create your future” or “you invent an unlikely future where all your dreams come true and try to live there.” The first is a slogan, the second is self-deception, and the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Musically, “Future Games” complements Kirwan’s contributions to the album with its pensive mood and restraint. The band passes up the opportunity to go big in the instrumental passage featuring the guitar solo, using that passage to reinforce the melody before easing into the third verse. Though I think they could have shortened the fade a bit, “Future Games” works on multiple levels, and demonstrates Bob Welch’s gift for melody that would later result in “Sentimental Lady.”
Though the chord structure isn’t as complex as “Woman of 1000 Years,” the flow of Danny Kirwan’s “Sands of Time” is as gentle and mesmerizing as the flow of a mountain stream. The music here alternates between G major and its E minor complement, spiced with a delightful variety of guitar fills, cascading arpeggios and some nifty cymbal work from Mick Fleetwood. The lyrics involve the interplay of darkness and light, as expressed in the verse that opens and closes the song:
The magic of a blackened night
Can go so far but not seem right
Although my love will drive away the sunshine
The magic of a blackened night
The deep ambivalence expressed here—resisting the darkness while love drives you to return to that magical place—feels almost like an inner war between puritanical guilt and pleasure-seeking in “dark” places. The minor key verses ironically express the embrace of the light, but the sadness of the minor key questions the sincerity of that embrace. As in “Woman of 1000 Years,” resolution remains elusive and indefinable. Though the song flows naturally, the inner tension expressed in lyrics and tone adds depth and texture to the listening experience—another beautiful piece of work from Kirwan.
In a stunning turn of events, Danny seems to go full country in the introduction to “Sometimes,” with Christine McVie’s down-home piano and sweetly picked guitar leading the way. The first impression is more early Eagles (gasp!) than Fleetwood Mac, but the mood shifts to something with a melancholy flavor once Danny inserts a minor chord into the mix and John McVie fills the empty spaces with deep, penetrating bass. Danny then steps into the role of jilted lover, remembering the good times while throwing his aching back into his work to help push the emotional pain to the sidelines. The song straddles the line between classic sad song and defiance of sadness, expressed both in the lyrics and in the surprisingly muscular guitar fills. Although not as deep or complex as his other two contributions, don’t let its subtlety fool you: “Sometimes” is first-rate songwriting by a very talented songwriter.
The one contribution on the album I could have done without is Bob Welch’s “Lay It All Down,” a rather pedestrian attempt at blues-influenced gospel with the usual “just like the good book said” crapola. Thematically it’s a weak fit; I suppose one could argue that it maintains the connection with the earlier model of Fleetwood Mac, but that was then, this was now, and this song flat-out sucks.
Fortunately, Future Games ends on a high note with Christine McVie’s “Show Me a Smile.” Songs written by parents for their children generally don’t grab me because of the latent sentimentality, but there’s one verse that lifts this song out of the maudlin and into the reality that a child’s future is likely to result in disappointment:
Take everything easy
Show me a smile
Soon you’ll be a man
My little one
So have fun while you can
Or there’ll be none
Carpe diem, my child, because in this life . . . you’re on your own.
The song anticipates Frank Black’s obsession with the soft-LOUD dynamics that defined the Pixies and a generation of grunge bands. Its use in grunge became a tired cliché after a while, but here it has meaning—the mother’s tenderness and the mother’s anxiety both operating at full capacity. I have never been a parent, and don’t ever want to be a parent, but my parents tell me they are permanently wired to nurture me and keep me safe from harm (and they do!). Christine captured that dynamic beautifully, carefully balancing her vocal so that she never goes too soft or over the top. The music is equally supportive of that balance, with luscious arpeggiated guitar, lead guitar fills and splashes of piano guiding us gently through the verses, and John McVie delivering serious punch with his bass during the louder passages. “Show Me a Smile” ends Future Games by underscoring the album’s essential beauty.
Look. I don’t know what the hell was going on with music critics in 1971 . . . both Rolling Stone and The Village Voice were anti-Establishment rags back in the day, so for all I know Nixon was behind it. What I do know is that Future Games is an album full of enchanting songs and well-designed arrangements that deserved much more respect than it received at the time.
It’s a damn nice album!
I was walking down a friend’s street as a 16 year old in 1972 and heard the legato strains of Danny’s guitar in “Sands of Time” floating out of an open garage and stopped dead in my tracks. I walked up to the owner of the house and asked what he was playing. Ever since, I have had an ongoing relationship to the Danny Kirwan version of Fleetwood Mac as a comfortable and nice place to be (similar to Nick Drake’s “Five Leaves Left” and “Bryter Layter”). I even tracked down his post Fleetwood Mac “Second Chapter” album, but his playing had already lost its magic. It is so amazing how much beautiful music Danny Kirwan created in three short years at such a young age. My heart breaks every time I think of how his life turned out.
Thank you for this awesome and enlightening review. I totally agree with you on the reviewers; I think this is where I stopped trusting reviewers to buy new music. Your reviews are by far the best I have seen for both this album and “Bare Trees.”Although it looks like you are on Sabbatical, I am so glad to have found your site. Thank you.
[…] Fleetwood Mac – Future Games […]
Lay It All Down is a killer tune. The band if firing on all cylinders!
I loved this as a 14 year old kid and i’m still in love with the album. Thanks for paying your repect to this legendary album.
You’re very welcome—the album has aged incredibly well and the interest in this review both shocked and delighted me.
Oh, wow. I came back to re-read this review, as I rather like it, but then saw my comments. Sorry about the text dump! I let my enthusiasm get the better of me. I think I wanted to give you the best launchpad possible into each of the albums, but even as condensed and digestible as I could muster, that’s still an awful lot of information to just throw at a person all at once.
I just bouth the five Fleetwood Mac albums where Christie Mcvie plays pianno and sings prior to the so called “classic era”. I’ve hever heard those albums before, just the five famos albums from the Nicks Buck era but wanted to expand the collection. First incarnation is good also but you have to be a hardcore Blues fanatic to enjoy it. So second era is becoming my favorite Fleetwod Mac era but Future Games is the highlight for me from those five records., its a mystical magical record. Mostly Mistery to Me and Bare Trees are the ones hailed as the best from that era in the internet, this is the first site that I find that makes justice to Future Games.
I don’t think you have to be a hardcore blues fanatic to enjoy the early blues material. You probably need to be one to enjoy the Mr. Wonderful album in its entirety, and the debut probably requires at least being a casual fan of blues, but select tracks from them hold up outside of that context, along with many of the singles. And then, of course, Then Play On and Kiln House have very little in the way of blues, and both are absolutely worth hearing in their entirety.
I left a lengthy reply on the other instance of this post, but then followed the rabbit hole here to find that I missed the party entirely. I can add to what Dean has said, to give more musical context for the albums. For the pure blues years AKA the Blue Horizons years.
The debut album is one of the best of the British blues releases. Green is one of the few British musicians to actually play blues and not merely a close imitation, and Spencer’s hyperfocus on Elmore James produces an extremely good imitation and homage. They vary things up enough to avoid repetition. The Original Fleetwood Mac 1971 compilation is effectively part two of the debut, being from the same sessions.
Mr. Wonderful is the most authentic sounding British blues album, and there are sone phenomenal cuts, but there are some bland cuts, and the album shoots itself in the foot by having basically the same damn song four times.
Pious Bird of Good Omen is all of the singles and b-sides up to “Albatross” (except “Stop Messin Round” is the album version instead of the single version), one track from each album, and two with Eddie Boyd.
Blues Jam at Chess/Blues Jam in Chicago/Fleetwood Mac in Chicago is the Mac and any Chess musicians that were available, all recorded in a day. Jeremy Spencer really shines, and Green and Kirwan also get in some good tunes.
These were on the Blue Horizons label, and after this, they branched out from pure blues. (though they started that with “Albatross”) The Complete Blue Horizons Sessions is a great set for anyone who already loves the material, and everything sounds great, but the discs are now being used as the albums themselves, despite not giving the same experience, with alternate mixes, edits, and studio chatter invading the album proper, and Pious Bird not even containing all of the songs of the album. (This is what’s on iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, etc.)
For the blues-rock years:
Then Play On takes blues, folk, rock, and even old 30s sounds, and meshes them together. The UK version is the definitive one, and the 2013 CD (added to streaming and download services a few months ago) is that, plus the related singles. There are two Madge tracks, one a brief cut of pure jamming, and the other gets… Avant-garde. For the most part, each track runs into the next (the first note of the second song cuts off the final bass note of the first, for instance) I’ll leave the rest to you.
Jeremy Spencer’s solo album is, in fact, a Fleetwood Mac album. His backing band is the rest of the Mac. It’s a bunch of throwback songs, homages, and parodies. Some of the parodies work better than others, but the more sincere homages are more consistent.
Live at the Boston Tea Party is too good to exclude for silly things like “it wasn’t released at the time.” Had it been, it would absolutely be considered alongside At Fillmore East, Live at Leeds, etc. Killer playing all around. The second performance of “Rattlesnake Shake” is astounding. Months later, Green leaves the band.
Kiln House is the past meets the present. Spencer’s material effectively refines what he did on his solo album, taking the best elements forward, and he also gets in his only real piece of personal songwriting. Kirwan’s material pushes forward from his work on Then Play On. The production style ties it together. Some may think it’s too eclectic, but I think it’s just right. Christine sings and drew the album art, but I see claims that she played keyboards. Those are all Spencer on the album.
They made enough non-album singles to make a second compilation album, but that never happened, and one of the tracks has still not been released digitally.
That ends the blues-rock era of Fleetwood Mac. Christine joined the band to tour. Jeremy Spencer was picked off of the street and joined a cult. (he was always quite religious, and they found him at a point where he was questioning what he was doing) Green helped them finish the tour. Their secretary recommended a friend of hers, Bob Welch.
The rock era:
Future Games (nothing to add for this purpose, since you already know it well enough)
Bare Trees is somewhat harder rocking and much more consistent, though it doesn’t supercede Future Games as a nice album. (nearly all Mac albums have a unique position in their catalog) Songs are generally tighter, and Danny’s two instrumentals plug you stright into the feelings. Upbeat, yet melancholy. I think the poem at the end is a perfect coda to the album, though I see how many others find it jarring. Danny is fired during the tour, as his increasing anxiety and other issues make him impossible to continue with.
Penguin is nice album, once it remembers to be interesting. Takes a few more listens to get into. I like Dave Walker’s two, and Bob Weston’s guitar works well. Welch gets in a great tune. (that features Peter Green) a weaker album within this catalog, but not bad.
Mystery to Me fixes the problems with Penguin, and Weston absolutely shines here. Walker left the band, and Welch and McVie absolutely step up. Even the two songs I don’t like are still good; I just don’t like the style they were done in. Many disparage the cover added at the last minute when the label decided there was no single on it, but I think it’s a good cover. (though the b-side was “Hypnotized”, which still gets radio play today) Weston sleeps with Fleetwood’s wife, gets fired, and then their manager, determined to not cancel another tour, assembles a fake Mac, and during the legal battle, Welch convinces the band to move to California.
Heroes Are Hard to Find sounds somewhat bland and similar to Penguin on first listen, but the songwriting is there. Christine is firing on all cylinders, and Bob contributes some solid songs and a jam they used to open “Green Manalishi” in their live shows. Definitely a hidden gem in the catalog.
They put their all into Heroes, but by the time they released it, the buzz they had for Mystery to Me had died. Disappointed with its reception, they were at a total loss for what else to do. Fleetwood began searching for a new guitarist, and Welch began hemming and hawing about leaving the band. The final choices for both of those happened within a month of each other. Welch left in December 1974, and by the new year, Fleetwood had secured a new guitarist, on the condition that that guitarist’s girlfriend and musical partner join, too.
And so, the rock era of Fleetwood Mac gives way to the pop era. (Which you said you don’t like, so I’ll end there)
During Peter Green’s stint with Fleetwood Mac, the band had three official UK studio albums, plus a UK compilation album, a couple more UK albums playing with some of the best bluesmen from Chess Studios in Chicago, and a belated album of songs recorded back when they started out but issued after Green left the band. What sounds sort of reasonable is made complicated by the fact that all seven of these albums exist in two versions: the original version, and the Updated Version created in 1999 (or the remaster in the case of “Then Play On,” the seventh album) when Sony released six of them on “The Complete Blue Horizon Sessions, 1967-1969.” Here we go:
1. “Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac” as issued has 12 cuts. The Updated Version has 19 cuts and includes numerous outtakes and studio chatter.
2. “Mr. Wonderful,” the second album, as issued has 12 cuts. The Updated Version has 16 cuts, again with outtakes and studio chatter. In the US, some of “Mr. Wonderful” was issued on “English Rose,” which makes “Rose” sort of a compilation album, but some liked the mix of songs better on the US version.
3. “Pious Bird of Good Omen” was not the third album, but a compilation, a 12-track ragbag of non-album 7 inch singles & their b sides, collaborations and other rarities difficult to find on LP. The Updated Version has 13 cuts, but 6 of them are different takes of the song “Need Your Love So Bad.” Avoid the Updated Version if you can find the original.
4. “Blues Jam at Chess, Vol. 1” (or words to that effect) as issued had 12 cuts. The Updated Version has 15 cuts and is preferable.
5. “Blues Jam at Chess, Vol. 2” (or similar words) as issued had 10 tracks. The Updated Version has 18 cuts and is preferable.
6. “Then Play On,” the real third album, had 13 cuts when issued. There is a remastered version with 18 cuts. It’s preferable.
7. “The Original Fleetwood Mac” as issued in 1971 had 12 new tracks mostly recorded in 1967. The Updated Version has 19 tracks.
That is more or less the roster of official studio albums, much updated by Sony in 1999 when it did the box set. What’s left? Avoid all the “greatest hits” and “best of” albums.
What’s left are a 2CD set, “Live At The BBC”; a 2CD set of rare material, “The Vaudeville Years: 1968 To 1970”; another 2CD set of rare material, “Show-Biz Blues: 1968 to 1970, Vol. 2”; and a 2CD compilation, “Jumping At Shadows: The Blues Years,” which is beautifully sequenced. There is a LOT of excellent music in these sets.
And there are a number of dedicated live albums, the best of which is a 3CD set, “Live In Boston, February 5-7, 1970,” killer concerts in great fidelity at the old Boston Tea Party venue. This is amazing music, IMHO.
Finally, the Chess sessions were so good that Green, McVie, Kirwan and sometimes Fleetwood played on extra sessions with Otis Spann and Eddie Boyd that resulted in additional albums (“The Biggest Thing Since Colossus” and “7936 South Rhodes,” respectively).
And Peter Green’s solo career? A very mixed bag, with diminished playing and singing. The best way to get a warm shot of Green is “The Anthology,” a well chosen, thoughtfully annotated 4CD set (out of print!) covering both the Fleetwood Mac years and Green’s solo career.
Thank you so much for sorting this out! What a mess. Worse than the Yardbirds! Right now I’m torn between beginning with the Mayall record and PG’s Fleetwood Mac, but I don’t have an opening until late spring, so I have time to sort it out. The Future Games review received a lot of attention, so I’m going to leave all your comments here because I think people are interested—shit, there’s hardly any good music coming out today, so music lovers have nowhere to go but the past.
Those aren’t bad places to start. And I find good music where I find it. If it’s 50 years old, so be it. The comparison to The Yardbirds discography is not inapt.
Fucking hell, even the double CDs of A Hard Road differ. This is therefore an edit to my earlier Greeny-Mayall list. Feel free not to post this nonsense, which will not be of use to most ordinary people. This is the one I should have listed.
First, A Hard Road, Mayall and The Bluesbreakers. You want the double CD.
https://www.discogs.com/John-Mayall-And-The-Bluesbreakers-A-Hard-Road/release/3341503
The Peter Green/Fleetwood Mac (through 1970) discography is a mess, but I can break it down to its essential parts, first with Mayall and then with FM.
First, A Hard Road, Mayall and The Bluesbreakers. You want the double CD.
https://www.discogs.com/John-Mayall-And-The-Bluesbreakers-A-Hard-Road/release/1750652
Next, Crusade, Mayall and The Bluesbreakers. This is Mick Taylor’s debut album with Mayall. However, get the expanded version, because tracks 13-20 feature not Taylor, but Green, including his recording of “Double Trouble.” https://www.discogs.com/John-Mayalls-Bluesbreakers-Crusade/release/1831492
Next, Live in 1967, Mayall and The Bluesbreakers. This is not top sound quality, but it’s very listenable. This is in fact the Peter Green version of Bluesbreakers. https://www.discogs.com/John-Mayalls-Bluesbreakers-Live-In-1967-/master/907527
Finally, Live in 1967—Volume Two. Same deal. This is Peter Green again. https://www.discogs.com/John-Mayall-The-Bluesbreakers-John-Mayalls-Bluesbreakers-Live-In-1967-Volume-Two-/master/1063258
Where did all the live recordings come from? I ask because I’m surprised that Decca would have invested so much time and effort in live recordings. Are any of these bootlegs or the equivalent (amateur recording, studio steals it).
They are good “audience quality” tapes. The recordings are now over 50 years old, so they may have been lurking around but no one wanted to release them until copyright ran out. I think they’re on Forty Below Records, which is a real company.
This is indeed a nice album, and it’s good to see it get a little love. When I bought up all of the old Fleetwood Mac albums a couple years ago, this one and Bare Trees emerged as my favorites. Not coincidentally, they are the only two that feature the Kirwan-McVie-Welch songwriting trio. I like Bare Trees a little more because I think it flows well all the way through, although it ends oddly with a spoken word piece. Most of these old Fleetwood Mac albums contain at least a couple tracks that disrupt the continuity, and Future Games is unfortunately no exception, with the Bob Welch blues-oriented piece and the time-wasting instrumental “What A Shame.” (Although there is no citation in the Wikipedia article, I have read elsewhere about that track being thrown in at the last minute, at the record company’s request, to fill out the album. It was not necessary because the album was already long enough. That may be why they called it “What A Shame.”)
The three Danny Kirwan songs here are especially strong, as you note, and Bob Welch matched his mysterious vibe with the long title track. The Christine McVie songs are more conventional but are high quality and fit in well. There was something special about Danny Kirwan right from the beginning. He was just turning 19 years old when he wrote half the songs on Then Play On, and I think all of them except “When You Say” are very good. It’s too bad he flamed out in 1972 and had to be kicked out of the band. He left us with a lot of good songs and some excellent guitar playing during his time in Fleetwood Mac.
I will definitely get to Bare Trees, but I’m going to go back and do some Peter Green-era work first. I think The Stones are the only band I’ve done in a linear fashion.
Great comment about “What a Shame” serving as an editorial comment on the decision!
BTW, according to Green’s biographer, there was a song called “Fleetwood Mac” before there was a band by that name. Green wrote a not very inspiring blues and called it “Fleetwood Mac” in an effort to persuade Mick and John to leave John Mayall and start a new band with him. Eventually he succeeded. Here’s the story, edited from wiki:
Green had been in two bands with Fleetwood: Peter B’s Looners and the subsequent Shotgun Express (which featured a young Rod Stewart as vocalist), and suggested Fleetwood to Mayall as a replacement for drummer Aynsley Dunbar when Dunbar left the Bluesbreakers to join the new Jeff Beck/Rod Stewart band. Mayall agreed and Fleetwood joined the Bluesbreakers.
The Bluesbreakers now consisted of Green, Fleetwood, John McVie and Mayall. Mayall gave Green free recording time as a gift, in which Fleetwood, McVie and Green recorded five songs. The fifth song was an instrumental that Green named after the rhythm section, “Fleetwood Mac.”
Soon after, Green suggested to Fleetwood that they form a new band. The pair wanted McVie on bass and named the band Fleetwood Mac to entice him, but McVie opted to keep his steady income with Mayall. In the meantime Green and Fleetwood had teamed up with slide guitarist Jeremy Spencer and bassist Bob Brunning. Brunning was in the band on the understanding that he would leave if McVie agreed to join. The Green, Fleetwood, Spencer, Brunning version of the band made its debut on 13 August 1967 at the Windsor Jazz and Blues Festival as Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac, also featuring Jeremy Spencer. Brunning played only a few gigs with Fleetwood Mac. Within weeks of this show, McVie agreed to join the band as permanent bassist. And so he remains.
Fascinating how all these threads came together! Thank you!
Very happy to see this, because I don’t know this album AT ALL. I completely swore off the band after Green left, but I’ve always been aware of a few Bob Welch compositions that did hold some appeal for me. I’ve worked out the Peter Green-Fleetwood Mac discography rather extensively (okay, let me just concede that on this point I’m obsessive, as if you hadn’t guessed), so if you are curious about any part of it — official albums, monaural versions, compilations, outtakes, performances with other artists (example: there is a very cool album in which Green, Kirwan and McVie play with Otis Spann and Spann’s regular drummer; Mick sat down) — I am glad to give you whatever information I have. Mark Barry’s lengthy review of the Blue Horizon box set on the band is essential reading, partly because he makes so much sense of the jumble. I’m all about promoting the career of the estimable Mr. Green.
Okay, I guess I better get a copy of Future Games and start reading.
Fleetwood Mac is a name applied to three or four completely different bands. I wish they’d renamed the band each time they went through a major change—it would be so much easier to sort it all out.
The Discogs listings of Peter Green are a damned mess because they include odd versions released in single countries, so anything you have that makes sense of the discography would be helpful. Thank you for offering!
Okay I’ll work out something about the Peter Green discography which I hope will be helpful. Should I post it here?