Quote:
Originally Posted by dreamsunwind
I mean, I don't doubt that Lindsey probably did think they just shouldn't play anything at all, but am I the only who thinks maybe the fact that it was Rhiannon bothered him more? If he supposedly threw a fit over it, I doubt it was JUST because he didn't want anything playing. I think he didn't want anything playing and he especially didn't want a signature Stevie song playing. No one should underestimate the big power struggle between those two. If they had played GYOW or Little Lies I doubt he would've been as bothered.
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I see what you're saying. I guess it's possible that the fact it was
Rhiannon irked him all the more. Or maybe what irked him was that, somehow, Karen Johnston was the person responsible for instructing the show management to play it. Maybe Lindsey had decided earlier that he didn't want anything played at that point, got the band's agreement (except Stevie?) and Karen slyly superceded that decision. Is that out of the realm of possibility? In the 2003 doc, there's something weird going on under the surface with Lindsey, Stevie, and Karen Johnston—as if Karen and Stevie were periodically attempting to undermine Lindsey's decision making and strategic authority.
What elle and others said earlier also makes sense: No walkout music is needed for reasons of aesthetics, tradition, and impact. They walk out unaccompanied by any music for a standard concert. Many, many years ago, the Exorcist theme played over the loudspeakers right up to the point at which the band took the stage. But I never heard any music play
while the band was being led out onstage by roadies in the dark. You can play a million old audience concert tapes and not hear anything but crowd noise before
Say You Love Me or
Monday Morning or
Second Hand News. It's a hallowed Fleetwood Mac practice, and maybe Karen (with Stevie?) foisted herself into the mix unilaterally—perhaps even as a practical joke. "Lindsey's eyes would bug out of his head if we told the sound crew to play
Rhiannon while we walk out." I think that's what touched off the fury—the battle of the dragons!
Another thing about musical director. It's an elastic title. One band's musical director might be another band's flunky—or at least butler. In Fleetwood Mac, the musical director has to be Lindsey. That doesn't mean he is making all musical decisions, but he's the person sitting with Mark Needham or Chris Lord-Alge or Mitchell Froom during mixing and mastering. He's either producing or co-producing in the studio. As such, he's the musical director. Studio authority spills over onto the tour. Onstage, he's lead guitarist, co-lead singer, and co-lead songwriter. It makes more sense for him to be musical director than anyone else (in the pre-Buckingham days, some newspaper articles indicated that Christine took control of the decision-making reins onstage, strange as it may seem). But even calling Lindsey the obvious musical director isn't a slight on anyone else because we need to ask ourselves (or Fleetwood Mac) what the musical director actually does in that band. Does he make the final decision on the set list? Does he order the set? Does he make sure the front-of-house mix is where it should be—in other words, he's the guy most frequently interacting directly with the guys on the soundboard? Does he help settle new keys for songs that need to be changed because somebody can't sing them in the same key as twenty years ago? Does he give critical feedback during rehearsals? In Fleetwood Mac, all five are going to make decisions, and any musical director or producer is going to accommodate them much of the time.
Generally, the image of the autocratic musical director is more pronounced in a situation where a bunch of session players have been hired, like with Stevie's solo bands. I think the title is very elastic and somewhat jokey in the context of a Fleetwood Mac, where each guy is a full-fledged member with an opinion and the right to voice it.