Cage Review
San Jose Mercury News (CA), December 14, 1987
Section: Living
MAC RE-CREATES ITS PAST INCARNATIONS
HARRY SUMRALL, Mercury News Pop Music Writer
Daly City Nearly 20 years ago, Fleetwood Mac -- the original version headed by guitarist Peter Green -- cut a swath across rock with some of the finest blues to emerge from England.
Fifteen years ago, the second version -- with Christine McVie and Bob Welch -- expanded rock's vocabulary with an eclectic assemblage of pop, blues and R&B forms. Ten years ago, the third version -- with Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks -- soothed rock with a mellow sound that was as bland as the '70s.
And now?
Now the newest version -- formed by Buckingham's recent departure and the acquisition of guitarists Rick Vito and Billy Burnette -- is out on a tour that settled in at the Cow Palace on Saturday and Sunday.
And what is this new Mac up to? Up to its neck, that's what -- in old mates, old hits and old tricks. At a time when the group could have sat back on its latest platinum record, ''Tango In The Night'' (recorded with Buckingham), the Mac has decided instead to give the new guys a turn and give its fans a taste of history.
The Mac's Saturday show was a lesson in longevity. Playing songs from its first album to its latest, the group sounded as varied as its musical evolution.
With a touring schedule that has not allowed the group time to represent itself in its latest form, it used its newest guitarists as surrogates. Thus, Burnette became Buckingham, with his strikingly similar melodic vocals, and Vito played Green, with his not-particularly-similar blues guitar.
Miraculously, it worked.
On songs such as ''Go Your Own Way,'' from the Buckingham era, the Mac was suitably nondescript, with a sound that was steady and competent: '70s rock at its best and worst. On the older, blues-oriented material like ''Rattlesnake Shake'' and the searing ''Oh Well,'' the group displayed a fire and energy that it has not had in nearly two decades. And on a slow blues from 1968's ''Fleetwood Mac'' album, Vito sang and played in a manner that recalled the legendary Green.
If all of this sounds slightly ambivalent, it should. This was not a show by a real group, in any sense. It was, instead, a show by a group that has, as yet, no sound of its own but must play up to the history of an older group -- or several older groups -- that no longer exist.
But within this context, the Mac acquitted itself as best it could. Christine McVie is still a stunning songwriter and vocalist -- her latest work on songs like ''Little Lies,'' from ''Tango,'' is, perhaps, her finest.
And drummer Mick Fleetwood and bassist John McVie still make for one of the best rhythm sections in rock, ripping out the beats and bass lines with wit and intensity. (Fleetwood's furious drum solo was played close to the vest, literally, with the bearded, buccaneerish fellow playing that part of his attire, which was fitted out with electronic drum pads.)
Only Nicks was disappointing. Done out (and in) in cascades of black velvet, with her locks frizzed, she looked a little like the Bride of Frankenstein. The only problem was that she sounded the same, hitting and missing notes and singing with a hyperbolic hoarseness.
Then there was the matter of the film crew.
''How does it feel to be in a movie?'' Vito asked at one point. Lousy, that's how. For the entire show, the group was surrounded by cameramen and remote cameras that constantly got in the way of the stage action. On many occasions, it was almost impossible to see the group for its crew. It was shameful. It was annoying. Mostly, it was a rip-off. If the group really wants to make a film of its tour, it should rent the Cow Palace for an extra day and let the fans in free for the shoot (as Duran Duran did at the Oakland Coliseum in 1984 for its film).
How much did this matter to the fans? Probably not much. They got the hits, they got the sound -- old and new -- and, thinking about the group and its tempestuous history, they were probably content with the notion that Fleetwood Mac is still playing at all.
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