Twenty years ago, when my peers were having their parents' record collections enforced on them, I was receiving a rather more limited musical education (Paul Simon's Graceland and the soundtrack to Cats were the only albums my folks ever played, and even then on inexplicably long car journeys to a rainy French campsite). For this reason, I never received the inevitable schooling in Fleetwood Mac and their gazillion-selling Rumours album. Of course, you can run (into the shadows) but you can't hide. And by the time I hit my mid-20s, I surrendered to the Mac attack, especially the bizarre arrangements that make up their 1979 double LP Tusk. I think getting into them so late, when the first signs of complex, tangled, depressingly-adult problems were weaving their way into my life, helped me fall in love with them all the more. I ended up claiming them as my own, rather than as some guilty pleasure. Tonight, they play Wembley Arena.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009...-fleetwood-mac