Sounding far removed from any song that the group had recorded up to that point, “Tusk” is driven by Fleetwood’s pounding percussion juxtaposed with Buckingham’s monotone, séance-like refrains which ultimately segue into a manic frenzy of a war-like chant punctuated by the big, boisterous brass of the USC marching band recorded at Dodger Stadium. Unveiled in September 1979 as the lead single and title track from the then-forthcoming album, and featuring unconventional instrumental contributions courtesy of Buckingham banging on a Kleenex box and Fleetwood slapping lamb chops (yes, you read that right), “Tusk” represents “the embodiment of the spirit of the album,” according to Buckingham, as quoted in Tusk’s deluxe edition liner notes. While McVie and Nicks stuck closer to their signature songwriting approach, Buckingham boldly branched out in various ways, experimenting with leftfield sounds, non-sequitur lyrics, and varied vocal approaches. That’s why people leave bands, you know.” A prescient comment, considering Buckingham’s departure from the band following 1987’s Tango In The Night and his more recent exit from the group last year. “We have three songwriters, and it is hard for them to develop their different aspects without room…they’re artistically stifled. “Making a double album is something that I wanted very much to do,” the band’s patriarch Mick Fleetwood explained to Rolling Stone. With a more expansive track listing than perhaps originally envisioned, Buckingham, Christine McVie and Nicks were all empowered to shine, as they penned nine, six and five of the album’s compositions, respectively and democratically. Morphing into a 20-song double-album with a recording budget that exceeded one million dollars (a huge sum four decades ago, equal to three-point-five million dollars in 2019 when adjusted for inflation), Tusk took thirteen months to complete. I had to pursue things that were in my head, and not be intimidated into thinking they were the wrong things to do.” “I told Mick that I wanted to put a machine in my house, to work on my things there. “When it came time to go into the studio, I just had to stick my neck out,” he recalled to Rolling Stone in 1980. As a result, he became more protective and territorial about the album’s gestation. Stubbornly determined to differentiate Tusk’s musical identity and resist the temptation of a Rumours rehash, Buckingham’s adventurousness was not well-received by his bandmates initially. More accurately, this penchant for creative excess was fueled by Buckingham’s obsessive ambition in conceiving of and executing the vision for Tusk.
But this penchant for excess would also manifest creatively, as the band embarked upon the harrowing task of recording the follow-up to their landmark LP. Much has been made of the drugs, financial recklessness, and romantic shenanigans that plagued the band during and after the recording of Rumours.
Which was invariably followed by exorbitance in its various forms. With the band’s newfound global superstardom came substantial freedom, influence and power. Indeed, Rumours ensured that Mick Fleetwood, Nicks, Buckingham, and the McVies were firmly entrenched in the rock & roll high life. Rumours’ massive success has been extensively documented and most of us are well aware of how it spawned countless critical and commercial plaudits, chart peaks, millions upon millions of units shifted, sold-out tours, and the coveted Album of the Year prize at the 1978 GRAMMY Awards. But as I grew older and wiser, I came to recognize that this blessing of an album represents that perfect, all-too-rare coalescence of musical, lyrical and thematic intrigue that makes for a ceaselessly gratifying listen from track one (“Second Hand News”) through track eleven (“Gold Dust Woman”). I initially fell in love with Rumours because, well, quite simply, it sounded great to my fledgling ears. Call it the soundtrack of my subconscious, as while my brain was far from being fully formed when I first heard it, Rumours nevertheless left a permanent, immovable imprint within my neural makeup. Released eight months before I was born, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours (1977) was spun religiously in my home and it’s unequivocally the album I most closely associate with my early childhood. But among the few remnant recollections I do have of my first few years of life are three singular voices that have stayed top of mind-and close to my heart-across four decades now. I celebrated my 2nd birthday early that month, so my memory is understandably scattershot at best. I can’t say that I have particularly vivid memories of those halcyon days back in October of 1979. Happy 40th Anniversary to Fleetwood Mac’s twelfth studio album Tusk, originally released October 12, 1979.