Posts tagged "i was a teenage fleetwood mac fan"

you never forget your first love

I’m sitting in my bedroom and I can hear muffled music from somewhere outside, and just this bass throb and something else low mixed in, with a little sparkle to it, and I think, “That’s Stevie Nicks. That’s the Dance album.” So I open the window, and yeah, it’s “Dreams.” So now I’m sitting here with the window open, because it’s kind of nicer than just pulling out the CD and listening to it myself.


My feelings about politics and literature and mathematics and the rest of life’s minutiae can only be described through a labyrinthine of six-sided questions, but everything that actually matters can be explained by Lindsey fucking Buckingham and Stevie fucking Nicks in four fucking minutes.

Chuck Klosterman (via straypaper) (via fuckyeahstevienicks)

I mean, yes, but also: Chuck Klosterman managed to get six books published without knowing that “labyrinthine” is not a noun?


Somebody needs to invent a TiVo for the brain.

I had a dream last night where Stevie Nicks was singing a slightly slowed-down version of “Dreams” live, backed by like, all the chicks from Lilith Fair and a gospel choir.


If my brain were made of Venn diagrams, the place where Fleetwood Mac’s Tango in the Night, Stevie Nicks’ The Wild Heart, and that whole genre of fantasy/spooky children’s films from the ’80s that encompasses everything from The Neverending Story to Little Monsters to The Secret of NIMH and always seemed to be playing on some cable channel on rainy Sunday afternoons overlap would be Florence + the Machine’s Lungs.


jonathanbogart:

desnoise:

Pitchfork: Articles: New Vocabulary

And except for a brief mention of T-Pain and early Kanye, he doesn’t even get into how this is being done not just in the subterranean microgenres of the Internet, but right out in the open on pop radio and #1 records: Ke$ha, Lil Wayne, Rihanna, Gaga, the Black-Eyed Peas and late-period Kanye don’t just use manipulated vocals as a gloss, they predicate their music on them. Enrique Iglesias has had an unlikely return to the US Pop chart because he’s AutoTuning his vocals. Nobody* wants to hear the plain unadorned human voice anymore, just as nobody* lives life unmediated through electronics anymore: we are all robots.
*For New York Times Style Section values of “nobody”

Thoughts prompted by this that I am probably never going to pull together into a coherent post:
1. I wasn’t going to actually buy the Annie Lennox Christmas album (in fact, I bootlegged her last album!  Even though I loved it!  And talked shit about people who dismissed the commercial and/or creative power of older female artists vis à vis her!  Mostly because I tried to buy it, from Barnes & Noble because they had a limited-edition version that came with a disc of acoustic tracks or something, and then I had to return it because the one I bought was accidentally packaged with two of the bonus disc, and the store I went to return it to was out of the limited-edition version, and at that point I was just like, “Fine, fuck it, give me my money back and I’ll buy another one online,” but then when I went home I just ripped the entire album off of some website that was streaming it, because I wanted to hear the thing already, and then I realized that if I ever bought a real version of it, it wouldn’t have the false start on “Smithereens” caused by my having to press pause and start it again in the middle of the rip, which I think actually made it a more interesting song, so I just stuck with what I had!  Which isn’t an excuse, just a reason.) until I came across the following in the AllMusic review of it: “it does engender a minor complaint: why on earth would a vocalist of Lennox’s caliber use Auto-Tune even momentarily?”  My immediate reaction was not word, or even fair point, but oh shit I need to hear that immediately.2. A few months ago, I went on a date with a 42-year-old guy.  I was trying to explain to him why I was so into Sleigh Bells, and why I thought so many other people were into Sleigh Bells, and what they sounded like.  And apparently he used to be a bootlegger back in the early ’80s, and so eventually I just started talking about how, when I was a in high school, I fell in love with Fleetwood Mac, and I became a part of this network of people who were ripping and collecting all the old live bootlegs and rarities to MP3, and this was right when MP3s were starting to happen, and a lot of people didn’t understand lossy or how the software worked, and so sometimes you’d get these really low-quality, like 24kbps rips, or rips of rips, and you’d listen to them and be like, “Man, this is such a rockin’ track,” and then a couple years later somebody would be like, “Hey!  Someone just ripped a 320kbps MP3 from a pristine first-generation cassette!  Here!” and you’d be all excited and press play, and…it would suck.  Like, without the fuzz and the distortion and the tape crackling, it would suck.  It would seem so sterile, and calm, where before it had been violent and daring.  And I was like, “The thing about Sleigh Bells is they sound like the rips you had before you had the good rips.”

jonathanbogart:

desnoise:

Pitchfork: Articles: New Vocabulary

And except for a brief mention of T-Pain and early Kanye, he doesn’t even get into how this is being done not just in the subterranean microgenres of the Internet, but right out in the open on pop radio and #1 records: Ke$ha, Lil Wayne, Rihanna, Gaga, the Black-Eyed Peas and late-period Kanye don’t just use manipulated vocals as a gloss, they predicate their music on them. Enrique Iglesias has had an unlikely return to the US Pop chart because he’s AutoTuning his vocals. Nobody* wants to hear the plain unadorned human voice anymore, just as nobody* lives life unmediated through electronics anymore: we are all robots.

*For New York Times Style Section values of “nobody”

Thoughts prompted by this that I am probably never going to pull together into a coherent post:

1. I wasn’t going to actually buy the Annie Lennox Christmas album (in fact, I bootlegged her last album!  Even though I loved it!  And talked shit about people who dismissed the commercial and/or creative power of older female artists vis à vis her!  Mostly because I tried to buy it, from Barnes & Noble because they had a limited-edition version that came with a disc of acoustic tracks or something, and then I had to return it because the one I bought was accidentally packaged with two of the bonus disc, and the store I went to return it to was out of the limited-edition version, and at that point I was just like, “Fine, fuck it, give me my money back and I’ll buy another one online,” but then when I went home I just ripped the entire album off of some website that was streaming it, because I wanted to hear the thing already, and then I realized that if I ever bought a real version of it, it wouldn’t have the false start on “Smithereens” caused by my having to press pause and start it again in the middle of the rip, which I think actually made it a more interesting song, so I just stuck with what I had!  Which isn’t an excuse, just a reason.) until I came across the following in the AllMusic review of it: “it does engender a minor complaint: why on earth would a vocalist of Lennox’s caliber use Auto-Tune even momentarily?”  My immediate reaction was not word, or even fair point, but oh shit I need to hear that immediately.

2. A few months ago, I went on a date with a 42-year-old guy.  I was trying to explain to him why I was so into Sleigh Bells, and why I thought so many other people were into Sleigh Bells, and what they sounded like.  And apparently he used to be a bootlegger back in the early ’80s, and so eventually I just started talking about how, when I was a in high school, I fell in love with Fleetwood Mac, and I became a part of this network of people who were ripping and collecting all the old live bootlegs and rarities to MP3, and this was right when MP3s were starting to happen, and a lot of people didn’t understand lossy or how the software worked, and so sometimes you’d get these really low-quality, like 24kbps rips, or rips of rips, and you’d listen to them and be like, “Man, this is such a rockin’ track,” and then a couple years later somebody would be like, “Hey!  Someone just ripped a 320kbps MP3 from a pristine first-generation cassette!  Here!” and you’d be all excited and press play, and…it would suck.  Like, without the fuzz and the distortion and the tape crackling, it would suck.  It would seem so sterile, and calm, where before it had been violent and daring.  And I was like, “The thing about Sleigh Bells is they sound like the rips you had before you had the good rips.”


marathonpacks: Matthew on Sleigh Bells’ Treats: To some extent, it’s a meta conceit...

tomewing:

I am investigating Fleetwood Mac’s “lost years” - the bit between Peter Green leaving the group and Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joining. This was the album I listened to today, mostly blogged here because of the awesome minimal-gothickal LP cover. Needless to say the actual music is not remotely like anything this cover might indicate, it is feel-good 70s soft rock with an occasional tendency to the winsome. But pretty enjoyable!

I listened to this album exactly once during my teenage Fleetwood Mac obsession.  The only things I remember about it are (a) the only copy I had was vinyl, for some reason, so I had to wait until my parents finally replaced their old broken turntable to listen to it, and at some point I turned to my dad and asked what people did in the ’70s when they only wanted to listen to one song off an album. Part of this query was phrased as “How do you skip tracks?” which I remember because my parents had a hearty LOL about it and sometimes repeat it to this day, something I remain (like the time when I was seven and they laughed at me for not knowing how to read our circa-1960 thermostat) a little indignant about.  How was I supposed to know?  I wasn’t fucking born then! And (b) it’s super boring till the end, when some old lady starts reading a poem about gloomy weather.

tomewing:

I am investigating Fleetwood Mac’s “lost years” - the bit between Peter Green leaving the group and Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joining. This was the album I listened to today, mostly blogged here because of the awesome minimal-gothickal LP cover. Needless to say the actual music is not remotely like anything this cover might indicate, it is feel-good 70s soft rock with an occasional tendency to the winsome. But pretty enjoyable!

I listened to this album exactly once during my teenage Fleetwood Mac obsession.  The only things I remember about it are (a) the only copy I had was vinyl, for some reason, so I had to wait until my parents finally replaced their old broken turntable to listen to it, and at some point I turned to my dad and asked what people did in the ’70s when they only wanted to listen to one song off an album. Part of this query was phrased as “How do you skip tracks?” which I remember because my parents had a hearty LOL about it and sometimes repeat it to this day, something I remain (like the time when I was seven and they laughed at me for not knowing how to read our circa-1960 thermostat) a little indignant about.  How was I supposed to know?  I wasn’t fucking born then! And (b) it’s super boring till the end, when some old lady starts reading a poem about gloomy weather.


tomewing:

This is a pretty good album. I suspect for a good chunk of its buyers back in 1973, that sleeve was as aspirational as it gets.
2000th post next! Expect me to forget.

Part 2 in a Series in Which I Reblog My Personal Experiences with Albums Tom Ewing Has Posted Pictures Of:
In my hometown, when I was a kid, there was a bootleg music shop called Abbey Road.  A bootleg music shop!  I suppose they sold old records and posters and stuff too, but I remember a significant portion of the store was dedicated to crudely burned CDs with laser printer inserts of the covers.  I went there exactly once in my life — they closed a couple of months after, I think, the rumor going around my high school was that the FBI shut them down.  But once was enough for me to find a CD of Buckingham Nicks.  I may have actually screamed when I saw it — you have to understand, when I was in high school, every cell in my body gave a shit about Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  I learned to sleep on my back so I could wear headphones to bed, so I could fall asleep listening to Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would get out of bed, go into the living room, pile all the throw pillows on the floor in front of the television, and watch videos of Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham with the sound down so low I could barely hear it because I didn’t want to wake my parents, and then get up and go back to bed again.  If my high school self could have gotten an account on Last.fm, every song on it would have been by Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Aside from a brief thing with my sophomore year English teacher, there was no one I wanted to fuck / be adopted by more than Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.
Anyway, even though I knew it would have been cooler to be able to say I had an actual vinyl of the Buckingham Nicks album, I was actually always pretty pleased I had a CD — first of all, because I didn’t know how to work a record player, and second of all, because I knew how to make MP3s and therefore finally had something to lord over all the bootleggers who wouldn’t trade for just blanks and postage.  “Oh, what do I have to offer?  Only some MP3s of the fucking Buckingham Nicks album.”  I was queen of the Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham related Internet!  I was sixteen!

tomewing:

This is a pretty good album. I suspect for a good chunk of its buyers back in 1973, that sleeve was as aspirational as it gets.

2000th post next! Expect me to forget.

Part 2 in a Series in Which I Reblog My Personal Experiences with Albums Tom Ewing Has Posted Pictures Of:

In my hometown, when I was a kid, there was a bootleg music shop called Abbey Road.  A bootleg music shop!  I suppose they sold old records and posters and stuff too, but I remember a significant portion of the store was dedicated to crudely burned CDs with laser printer inserts of the covers.  I went there exactly once in my life — they closed a couple of months after, I think, the rumor going around my high school was that the FBI shut them down.  But once was enough for me to find a CD of Buckingham Nicks.  I may have actually screamed when I saw it — you have to understand, when I was in high school, every cell in my body gave a shit about Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  I learned to sleep on my back so I could wear headphones to bed, so I could fall asleep listening to Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would get out of bed, go into the living room, pile all the throw pillows on the floor in front of the television, and watch videos of Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham with the sound down so low I could barely hear it because I didn’t want to wake my parents, and then get up and go back to bed again.  If my high school self could have gotten an account on Last.fm, every song on it would have been by Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Aside from a brief thing with my sophomore year English teacher, there was no one I wanted to fuck / be adopted by more than Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.

Anyway, even though I knew it would have been cooler to be able to say I had an actual vinyl of the Buckingham Nicks album, I was actually always pretty pleased I had a CD — first of all, because I didn’t know how to work a record player, and second of all, because I knew how to make MP3s and therefore finally had something to lord over all the bootleggers who wouldn’t trade for just blanks and postage.  “Oh, what do I have to offer?  Only some MP3s of the fucking Buckingham Nicks album.”  I was queen of the Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham related Internet!  I was sixteen!


jonathanbogart:

girlboymusic:

tomewing:

This is a pretty good album. I suspect for a good chunk of its buyers back in 1973, that sleeve was as aspirational as it gets.
2000th post next! Expect me to forget.

Part 2 in a Series in Which I Reblog My Personal Experiences with Albums Tom Ewing Has Posted Pictures Of: In my hometown, when I was a kid, there was a bootleg music shop called Abbey Road.  A bootleg music shop!  I suppose they sold old records and posters and stuff too, but I remember a significant portion of the store was dedicated to crudely burned CDs with laser printer inserts of the covers.  I went there exactly once in my life — they closed a couple of months after, I think, the rumor going around my high school was that the FBI shut them down.  But once was enough for me to find a CD of Buckingham Nicks.  I may have actually screamed when I saw it — you have to understand, when I was in high school, every cell in my body gave a shit about Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  I learned to sleep on my back so I could wear headphones to bed, so I could fall asleep listening to Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would get out of bed, go into the living room, pile all the throw pillows on the floor in front of the television, and watch videos of Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham with the sound down so low I could barely hear it because I didn’t want to wake my parents, and then get up and go back to bed again.  If my high school self could have gotten an account on Last.fm, every song on it would have been by Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Aside from a brief thing with my sophomore year English teacher, there was no one I wanted to fuck / be adopted by more than Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.Anyway, even though I knew it would have been cooler to be able to say I had an actual vinyl of the Buckingham Nicks album, I was actually always pretty pleased I had a CD — first of all, because I didn’t know how to work a record player, and second of all, because I knew how to make MP3s and therefore finally had something to lord over all the bootleggers who wouldn’t trade for just blanks and postage.  “Oh, what do I have to offer?  Only some MP3s of the fucking Buckingham Nicks album.”  I was queen of the Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham related Internet!  I was sixteen!

I have it on vinyl! It was one of the first records I bought because I found it cheap, and I’m not (that) dumb. I’ve listened to it maybe once all the way through, though.

I WILL PAY YOU REAL MONEY.

jonathanbogart:

girlboymusic:

tomewing:

This is a pretty good album. I suspect for a good chunk of its buyers back in 1973, that sleeve was as aspirational as it gets.

2000th post next! Expect me to forget.

Part 2 in a Series in Which I Reblog My Personal Experiences with Albums Tom Ewing Has Posted Pictures Of: In my hometown, when I was a kid, there was a bootleg music shop called Abbey Road.  A bootleg music shop!  I suppose they sold old records and posters and stuff too, but I remember a significant portion of the store was dedicated to crudely burned CDs with laser printer inserts of the covers.  I went there exactly once in my life — they closed a couple of months after, I think, the rumor going around my high school was that the FBI shut them down.  But once was enough for me to find a CD of Buckingham Nicks.  I may have actually screamed when I saw it — you have to understand, when I was in high school, every cell in my body gave a shit about Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  I learned to sleep on my back so I could wear headphones to bed, so I could fall asleep listening to Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would get out of bed, go into the living room, pile all the throw pillows on the floor in front of the television, and watch videos of Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham with the sound down so low I could barely hear it because I didn’t want to wake my parents, and then get up and go back to bed again.  If my high school self could have gotten an account on Last.fm, every song on it would have been by Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.  Aside from a brief thing with my sophomore year English teacher, there was no one I wanted to fuck / be adopted by more than Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham.

Anyway, even though I knew it would have been cooler to be able to say I had an actual vinyl of the Buckingham Nicks album, I was actually always pretty pleased I had a CD — first of all, because I didn’t know how to work a record player, and second of all, because I knew how to make MP3s and therefore finally had something to lord over all the bootleggers who wouldn’t trade for just blanks and postage.  “Oh, what do I have to offer?  Only some MP3s of the fucking Buckingham Nicks album.”  I was queen of the Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham related Internet!  I was sixteen!

I have it on vinyl! It was one of the first records I bought because I found it cheap, and I’m not (that) dumb. I’ve listened to it maybe once all the way through, though.

I WILL PAY YOU REAL MONEY.


And now I’m listening to Buckingham Nicks for the first time in forever.

BRB CHANGING THE TITLE OF EVERY BLOG I OWN TO “SUNFLOWERS AND YOUR GODDAMN FACE FASCINATE ME”