Fleetwood Mac Pt. 1: Guns, God, Cocaine and Rumours

Summary

Fleetwood Mac Pt. 1: Guns, God, Cocaine and Rumours – Detailed Summary

Overview

In this gripping first part of a two-part special episode, host Jake Brennan delves deep into the turbulent history of Fleetwood Mac, unraveling the band's notorious struggles with drugs, internal conflicts, tragic losses, and the complex web of relationships that fueled their legendary status. From the early days in London's swinging scene to the creation of one of the most successful albums of all time, "Guns, God, Cocaine and Rumours" paints a vivid picture of the feral, narcissistic underbelly that made Fleetwood Mac both infamous and irresistible.

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Early Fleetwood Mac and the London Scene

The episode opens with Jake Brennan setting the stage for Fleetwood Mac's tumultuous journey. He highlights the band's notorious issues, including Mick Fleetwood's staggering cocaine use and the loss of two guitarists to predatory religious cults. Brennan states:

“The band lost not one, but two guitarists to predatory Jesus freaks. Two band members were arrested on gun charges. Another was believed to pay roadies to administer cocaine via enema.” (02:49)

Fleetwood Mac's origins as an English blues band are explored, emphasizing their transition into pop superstars in the mid to late 70s. Brennan contrasts the band's early blues prowess with their later commercial success, hinting at the internal strife that would later surface.

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Tragic Loss and Drug Struggles

A pivotal moment in Fleetwood Mac's history is the tragic death of Tara Brown, an heir to the Guinness fortune, during a lavish 21st birthday party hosted in Ireland's County Wicklow. The party, attended by rock legends like Mick Jagger and Brian Jones, serves as the backdrop for Brown's fatal car accident. Brennan narrates:

“He died the next day of his wounds. One of Swinging London's first rock and roll casualties.” (03:25)

This tragedy deeply affects Mick Fleetwood and John McVie, highlighting the perils of the rock and roll lifestyle. The episode underscores the ever-present danger of drugs, money, and religious extremism that loomed over the band members.

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Peter Green's Departure

Peter Green, Fleetwood Mac's founding guitarist, emerges as a central figure in the band's decline. His increasing reliance on LSD leads to a profound personal and professional crisis. Brennan explains:

“Peter Green could no longer wrap his brain around playing the same song the same way more than once. How could he?” (16:50)

Green's descent into religious fervor and his battles with mental health culminate in his drastic departure from the band. His obsession with Christianity and rejection of the band's financial success create a rift that proves irreparable. Brennan notes:

“Peter Green was unhinged. The LSD had tripped some wire in his already fragile psyche.” (17:34)

Green's struggles symbolize the broader issues within Fleetwood Mac, where personal demons and external pressures threaten the band's cohesion.

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The Jeremy Spencer Incident

The disappearance of Jeremy Spencer, another key guitarist, adds to the band's woes. Following a San Fernando earthquake and amidst ongoing drug use, Spencer vanishes, presumed abducted by a religious cult. Brennan provides a chilling account:

“What happened? McFleet wondered. Another Fleetwood Mac guitar player got religion and got himself lost.” (25:03)

This incident underscores the dangers of the predatory "Jesus freaks" that plagued the band. Fleetwood and McVie’s frantic search through a devastated Los Angeles highlights the desperation and deepening crisis within Fleetwood Mac.

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Rebirth with Buckingham and Nicks

In the wake of these tragedies, Fleetwood Mac undergoes a significant transformation by recruiting Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. This pivotal change marks the rebirth of the band, merging Buckingham Nicks' folk duo with Fleetwood Mac's hard blues roots. Brennan describes the synergy:

“Teaming the studied guitar, singing and arrangement talents of Lindsey Buckingham with Mick Fleetwood's steadily unique groove and John McVie's monster bass playing was like giving Mario Andretti the keys to a tricked out Peterbilt semi.” (25:00)

Stevie Nicks' ethereal vocals complement Christine McVie's harmonious presence, creating a dynamic and balanced front for the band. This new lineup leads to the creation of their self-titled 1975 album, a commercial triumph that propels Fleetwood Mac to international stardom.

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Continued Success and Challenges

The episode chronicles Fleetwood Mac's soaring success in the United States, driven by hit singles like "Over My Head," "Say You Love Me," and "Rhiannon." However, this success is juxtaposed with persistent drug use and the pressures of fame. Brennan recounts their European tour struggles:

“Cold and hungry were two constants. Cold in the hotel, hungover in the morning, dragging through soundcheck, freezing on the plane, exhausted at customs.” (25:16)

A particularly harrowing incident at Amsterdam Airport exemplifies the band's vulnerability. Despite rumors of cocaine use, no evidence is found, yet the ordeal strains their nerves and highlights the precarious balance between fame and personal downfall.

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Conclusion

Jake Brennan adeptly weaves a narrative that captures Fleetwood Mac's rise and the dark forces threatening to tear them apart. "Guns, God, Cocaine and Rumours" serves as a compelling exploration of how external pressures, internal conflicts, and personal demons coalesced to shape one of rock's most iconic bands. As the episode concludes, listeners are left anticipating the continuation of Fleetwood Mac's tumultuous journey in the second part.

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Notable Quotes

• Jake Brennan: “Peter Green was unhinged. The LSD had tripped some wire in his already fragile psyche.” (17:34)
• Unidentified Speaker: “It's got to be clean, solid, one color. It's got to be high quality.” (00:07) (Note: This is part of an advertisement and is included here for context but is not central to the podcast's main narrative.)

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Timestamps

• 02:49: Introduction to Fleetwood Mac's notorious history.
• 03:25: Fleetwood Mac amidst London's swinging scene and Tara Brown's death.
• 16:50: Peter Green's struggles with LSD and religion.
• 17:34: Peter Green's mental decline.
• 25:00: Recruitment of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks.
• 25:03: Jeremy Spencer's disappearance.
• 25:16: Fleetwood Mac's European tour challenges.

Note: Other timestamps correspond to advertisements and promotional segments, which are intentionally excluded from this summary.

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Final Thoughts

"Fleetwood Mac Pt. 1: Guns, God, Cocaine and Rumours" offers an unflinching look into the chaos behind the music, providing true crime enthusiasts and music history buffs alike with a riveting account of one of rock's most legendary bands. As Fleetwood Mac navigates betrayal, addiction, and personal loss, the podcast masterfully captures the essence of their enduring legacy and the price of superstardom.

Transcript

[Jake Brennan]

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[Unknown Speaker]

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[Unknown Speaker]

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[Jake Brennan]

Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Fleetwood Mac are insane. Drummer Mick Fleetwood reportedly snorted over seven miles of cocaine in his lifetime. The band lost not one, but two guitarists to predatory Jesus freaks. Two band members were arrested on gun charges. Another was believed to pay roadies to administer cocaine via enema. Come on. I couldn't not say it.

[Unknown Speaker]

It's only like the most famous rock.

[Jake Brennan]

And roll rumor of all time, despite being total bullshit. But more on this to come later in the episode. And famously, band members involved themselves with each other romantically in ways that brought on jealousy, distrust, anger, divorce, and resulted in one of the most successful albums ever. Fleetwood Mac made great music. From their earliest days as an English blues band to the pop superstars they would become in the mid to late 70s. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called Mustache Montage MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Tonight's the Night Gonna Be alright by Rod Stewart. And why would I play you that specific slice of Rod the Bod Cheese. Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on January 1, 1977. And that was the day the Hot 100 charts would feature a song that didn't come from Fleetwood Mac's rumors for 53 straight weeks, marking with authority the undeniable success of one of the biggest albums of all time. On this part one of a special two part episode smuggled guns, predatory cults, torrid love affairs, cocaine, and the ever evolving lineup of Fleetwood Mac. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. Tara Brown, heir to the Guinness fortune, as prominent a member of London's swinging set as his father, Dominic 4th Baron Oran Moran. Brown was a member of the House of Lords. The younger Brown. Tara Brown pushed his tiny but fast Lotus Elon through the curve of the road. He felt the tiny machine hug him tight. His girlfriend sat in the passenger seat. Like him, she was blurry eyed from drugs and alcohol. 1966 had been a whirlwind. The booze the hashish, the LSD, it all made the nights pass in Technicolor and the days drag in various shades of hungover gray. Tara's 21st birthday party from earlier that year was on his mind. Still, it was by all accounts one of society's most talked about affairs. Tower Brown knew how to throw a party and how to take care of himself and his famous friends. He flew them in by private jet. Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, Brian Jones, another heir, John Paul Getty, and poet Brian Behan, among others, were all assembled by Tara at one of his family's castles in Ireland's County Wicklow. 5,000 acres of greens and woods surrounding a grand Lodge, complete with full staff, chauffeurs and all the requisite posh and decadence befitting a young heir on the eve of his 21st trip around the sun, including a performance that night by the Lovin Spoonful, who currently enjoyed a massive US top 10 hit with the song do youo Believe in Magic? Mick fleetwood and John McVie, hardly upper echelon members of Swinging London, had managed their way into the party, no doubt because of their relationship with one of London's most most promising blues guitarists at the time, Peter Green. The three were currently mixing it up with a cocky young Sam Cooke inspired blues singer named Rod Stewart in a band called Shotgun Express. Word had it that Peter Green, who was becoming known around London as the Green God, was about to leave Shotgun Express to replace that other God, Eric Clapton, in John Mayle's Blues Breakers. And when he did, he'd be taking his rhythm section, Mick fleetwood and John McVie, with him. As for young Rod Stewart's future, time would tell. Mick Fleetwood entered Tara Brown's castle wide eyed and full of appreciation of the moment. In the United Kingdom, unlike in the United States, you were born into your position and there you likely stayed. Class and social structure prevented you from upward mobility, from achieving anything beyond your station in life. Rock and roll challenged that rule. Tara Brown challenged that rule as well, and the rolling stones in 1966 personified that challenge. For young London's upper class in the mid-60s, there was no greater accessory than a rough and tumble Rolling Stone. Mick Fleetwood was not born into this, but young as he was 18 at the time, he knew he had arrived. Brian Jones, guitarist and founding member of the Rolling Stones, flung open the castle's giant double doors. Brian, cooler than most, devilish, but somehow kind at the same time, gave Mick Fleetwood a warm smile as he paced backwards slowly with the door in one hand and his Other arm extending behind him to reveal the party in full swing. Men in the latest Tommy Nutter tailored Savile Row suits danced with women in short skirts and smart new cropped hairstyles. English blues blared from the speakers. Jugglers mixed among the crowd with costumed goblins for extra effect. Brian Jones was in possession of all of his charm. Greetings. How is my favorite Mick doing this evening? Come, come, Mick. Come inside out of the cold. With that, Nick Fleetwood entered and was quickly ushered by Brian upstairs into a large private bedroom. The room was mostly empty and quiet but for the sounds of the party leaking through its walls. In the center of the room room on a small table, a giant ball of opiated hash and an ornate hookah. Mick Fleetwood's jaw nearly hit the floor. Is it yours, Brian? He asked. Sure it is, Mick. It's mine. It's ours. It's here for everyone. So let's have some. Tara couldn't remember who procured the hash. Maybe it was the count. He did remember that Brian Jones and Mick Fleetwood did their damnedest to make it this way. Tara pressed into the Lotus's gas pedal and pushed him and his girlfriend through another curve. At 100 miles per hour, he sped into the intersection at Red Cliff Square and Red Cliff Gardens. He didn't notice that the lights had changed. Another car was coming. Tara slammed on the brakes, cut the wheel to his left and collided with maximum impact with his driver's side into a parked lorry. He died the next day of his wounds. One of Swinging London's first rock and roll casualties. It shook Mick Fleetwood, who read about it in the news. So it did John Lennon as well, who would later write about it in the Beatles song A Day in the Life. What Brian Jones thought about Tara Brown's death is unknown, for he was fast on his way to becoming one of London's next rock and roll casualties. Mick Fleetwood could sense the danger of his chosen profession. The rock and roll game was no joke, especially with the way Mick's generation played. Non survivors need not apply. Bass player John McVie was MC Fleetwood's partner in crime as well as his rhythm section mate. And John McVie was a survivor. He and Mick made it through the 60s together, through that heady stint in John Mayall's Blues breakers in the first few incarnations of the band that bore their names. Fleetwood Mac, named after the rhythm section, yet fronted by their incomparable guitarist and frontman, the highly expressive and emotional blues player Peter Green. The band that led to John's marriage To Christine Perfect, one of London's most sought after female blues players. She'd take his name McVie. And Christine McVie would play on in a band that now bore her name as well. Her husband, John McVie, or Mac, as he was called, along with Christine and Mick Fleetwood survived the tumult of the 60s, the confusion of the early 70s, and the excess of their unprecedented late 70s success. John McVie would eventually even survive cancer. But first, in 1981, he'd need to survive Honolulu's top drug sniffing dog, Max. Max was an alpha not only among his canine counterparts, but also among the members of the Honolulu Police Department he worked for. If Max really was a dog, he didn't seem to know or care. One look at the way he carried himself and you'd think Max saw Burt Lancaster's Sergeant Milton Warden character in From Here to Eternity staring back at him in the mirror. Tall, broad shouldered for a a dog anyway, and authoritative, Max, like Sergeant Warden did not around. Max, while on his airport beat, caught the smell in the expensive luggage immediately. Cocaine tucked away in a brown and white tape package. It was too easy. What hubris the owner had, who'd barely tried even hiding it. Max's police partners used the package to quickly obtain a search warrant. With it, they followed the scheduled delay delivery of the package to what was no doubt a very rich person's home in the wealthy resort area of Nepali. Honolulu police, with Max at their side, rang the bell. Upon entry, they heard the sounds of someone frantically rushing upstairs, along with the unmistakable sound of a toilet being frantically flushed. Max barked non stop. An hour long search ensued. Max quickly turned up the brown and white package. In it, four grams of cocaine. The police also found marijuana and some pills, along with seven guns, a Remington shotgun, three loaded pistols and three rifles, all illegally in the possession of their owner. The owner of this home. This home with its gold and platinum records hanging from its walls alongside all of its opulent furnishings. The home of no ordinary Honolulu resident. The home of a rock star, of rock and roll survivor John McCarthy v. Of none other than Fleetwood Mac, who would now have to survive a trial for possession of illegal drugs and weapons and face jail time and possible deportation. He would of course, survive this incident, just as he had survived all of the previous High Wire act incidents that nearly spelled his doom in the past, like they had for numerous members of Fleetwood Mac. Doom brought on by drugs, money and Jesus Christ.

[Unknown Speaker]

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[Unknown Speaker]

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[Unknown Speaker]

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[Jake Brennan]

Peter Green Guitarist for Fleetwood Mac Founder of Fleetwood Mac, the mid-60s blues guitarist so skilled he was able to replace Eric Clapton in John Male's Blues Breakers. So impressive, he would later be cited as influencing such rock and roll luminaries as English songsmith Elvis Costello and American journalist and screenwriter director Cameron Crowe. Peter Green the man who gave Fleetwood Macket's name after its rhythm section. The best rhythm section in the world, by his account. The man who wrote, oh well, Albatross in Black Magic Woman, a song later recorded by Santana and sent all the way up to number four on the US charts that Peter Green was not having it. And by it I mean money.

[Unknown Speaker]

Take the money back.

[Jake Brennan]

Take the money, man. I don't want, I don't want. Take the savage.

[Unknown Speaker]

No, but take him. Take it back.

[Jake Brennan]

This was in 1977, but in 1970, Fleetwood Mac was off like a rocket. From 1967 to 1969, after Peter left the blues breakers, Fleetwood Mac had climbed to steady success as a heavy blues band. With their first solid lineup. Green, Mick Fleetwood, John McVie and Jeremy Spencer. They had talent and influence. Despair Peter's songwriting especially earning them all the trappings of rock and roll success. They could ask for hit singles in their homeland, international tours, drugs, women. But it started to turn for Peter Green. In New Orleans in 1970, Fleetwood Mac were sharing a bill with San Francisco's Grateful Dead. The Grateful Dead soundman chemist Augustus Owsley Stanley Stanley III dosed the members of Fleetwood Mac. Peter Green did not react well to the lsd. Yet after that trip, he kept taking it. He grew morose, sullen, moody. And it started showing up in his already highly emotional playing. Music, in his opinion, became commodified. Music for money increasingly became a ridiculous notion. Music was about expression and expression only. Peter Green could no longer wrap his brain around playing the same song the same way more than once. How could he? He'd already done that. He'd already expressed that emotion. Peter turned his focus from rock and roll to Christianity. The fact that he was raised Jewish didn't matter. He gave himself over to his new lord and savior, Jesus Christ. He continued to play, but eschewed the rock and roll trappings he was so taken by just months earlier. Mainly that meant no more groupies and not just for himself. Quickly, as leader of Fleetwood Mac, he turned his judgy eyes to his bandmates, deeming them disgraceful for taking up with women after their shows. Peter could be found in his hotel room after gigs, crying in front of the 11 o' clock news of the various injustices being broadcast. He then demanded his bandmates join him in turning over all of the band's earnings to various charities. They gave, of course, but all of their money. This was too much to ask of young musicians who were finally realizing their rock and roll dream. And at that moment in 1970, outselling both the Beatles and the Rolling Stones in Europe, Peter descended further into madness. He began wearing a big wooden crucifix and a papal like robe. Growed his beard and hair long, not unlike artistic depictions of the Son of Man. It would only speak to the music press about one subject, Jesus Christ. Fleetwood Max. Success at this point, the accolades, record sales, ticket sales, the press had all became a source of suffering for Peter Green. Because all of it was cheap, fickle child's play compared to what he now saw as his life's true calling. To do good in the name of Christ. Peter announced to his wife bandmates that he was leaving the band. There would be one more European tour to fulfill previous obligations. But in Munich one night after a gig, Peter Green disappeared. Took off with some hippies, real far out types, not your standard Summer of Love, 1960s Zeitgeist type of youth. These hippies were more off the grid, underground, untethered from society in any real way. Dark and running almost entirely on lsd, Peter dosed for days straight at their commune. When Fleetwood Mac's road manager finally found him, Peter could speak, but barely. He recovered in time to play one final gig, but committed to living with his new German friends on their commune afterward, Peter's bandmates attempted to coax him to finish the tour. But in response, he melted down, wholly focused on the money, how there was too much and how he didn't deserve it, how he couldn't possibly go on playing in the band and generating such unheard of sums of cash and all the darkness it brought into the world. Peter Green was unhinged. The LSD had tripped some wire in his already fragile psyche. Somehow, the band convinced him to finish the tour. But the Munich hippies by this point were all over him, following him on the road and back to London afterward. Shortly thereafter, Peter Green played his last gig with Fleetwood Mack at the Lyceum Theater, Ironically, with the Grateful Dead. Afterward, he held his focus on lsd, Jesus Christ, to what he called unclean money. And throughout the 70s, he wanted no part of it. Which is why, in 1977, Peter Green, long since being a member of Fleetwood Mac, was threatening to shove a shotgun in his accountant's face and blow him up, away, demanding that he take the money back, that he stopped the royalty checks from coming in. He was arrested, jailed, diagnosed with schizophrenia, and eventually released into his family's custody. Fleetwood Mac, Peter Green's old band, had carried on without him and found even more fame. But not through Peter Green's blues and not through visions of Jesus Christ. Instead, through commercialized pop and crystal visions. And the unclean money rained down on Fleetwood Mac. We'll be right back after this. Word, word, word.

[Unknown Speaker]

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[Unknown Speaker]

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[Jake Brennan]

Peter Green was gone, and so was Fleetwood Mac's other guitarist, Jeremy Spencer. Once again, the culprit. Jesus Christ. Los Angeles was reeling in the aftermath of the 1971 San Fernando earthquake. 6.6 on the Richter scale. More than 60 people dead. Half a billion dollars in damage. Tens of thousands evacuated. The near total failure of the water supply. The partial collapse of major freeway exchanges. And none of it could keep the predatory Jesus freaks off of Hollywood Boulevard. There they roamed down the famous Walk of Fame, barefoot over the sidewalk. Stars of Hollywood's golden era, Judy Garland Burt Lancaster himself, Bogie and Bacall among them. All of whom would not suffer the trashy hippie funk stylings of JC's post Summer of love disciples garbed in literal rags, sandals if they were lucky either way, their filthy disgusting feet exposed for all to see, with dirt on their skin, long mangy and tangled hippie hair, headbands, homemade beads, hey brother. Spilling from their lips on repeat. Yellow yuck mouth teeth, creepy perma smiles, wild googly eyes. All of it gross. The hookers made fun of them, the crossdressers empathized the pimps paid them no mind. The John scoped for young strangers, the cops harassed them non stop, tourists averted their eyes and Mick Fleetwood and John McVie asked questions like have you seen this man? They were inquiring about their guitarist Jeremy Spencer and working through vicious hangovers. Blinding mid afternoon California sun, unseasonable winter heat, the drag of the day's beginning. A couple nights earlier in San Francisco, their guitarist Jeremy Spencer ate some mescaline, tripped balls, played out of his mind, touched down in LA post earthquake, took off out of his hotel like an aftershock down toward Hollywood Boulevard and hadn't been seen or heard from in 24 hours. Their gig was canceled and everyone feared the worst. Kidnapping, Murder. Jesus, Mick and John handed out flyers, posted Jeremy's photo on telephone poles. The local news picked up the story. Have you seen this man? Local Christian churches on the up and up knew what had gone down. More Jesus, death cult, Tom Fuckery. They got in touch with the band's management and hip them to some of the Lord's less than savory radicals cults. Their locations were noted. San Fernando Valley, the heart of the earthquake. Fleetwood Mac drove into the angry upset belly of Los Angeles on high alert, scoping for their latest lost soul. They drove through the destruction. Toppled buildings, destroyed homes, dilapidated bridges. Pedestrians peered at them from the roadside with shock through hollow eyes. Everything, it seemed was happening in slow motion. It was post apocalypse. The City of Angels was end times. God wasn't green. God was dead and their guitarist was gone baby. Gone. Another one. How the had this happened? McFleet wondered. Another Fleetwood Mac guitar player got religion and got himself lost. The so called Children of God had found Jeremy Spencer and Jeremy Spencer wasn't coming back. Jeremy Spencer wasn't even Jeremy Spencer anymore. He was Jonathan and by the time his bandmates found him he was on unrecognizable, having shaved off all of his hair, denounced his worldly possessions, turned his back not only on his band, but on his family, his wife and young child, explaining that Jesus would now take care of them. Fleetwood Mac replaced Jeremy Spencer with another guitarist who eventually took up with Mick Fleetwood's wife. An act that eventually cost him his job. And along with band, managerial chaos that progressed steadily through the next few years seemed to spell the end for Fleetwood Mac. But Mick Fleetwood was determined to give it one more go. There was a new batch of songs to demo. He visited Sound City studio in his and his bandmates new home of Los Angeles to book studio time and was struck by what he heard coming out of the studio's speakers. Mixes from a folk duo from upstate. The guitar playing was sublime. Who was this Mick Fleetwood needed to know. He grabbed the guitar player's number from the Sound City producer and quickly rang him up. Lindsey Buckingham, this is Mick Fleetwood. Hey there, how you doing? I'm well. Listen, we're looking for a guitar player and I'd like to know if you'd like to come play with us. That sounds great. We'd love to. We. Not I, we. Lindsey Buckingham finished his sentence with because my girlfriend comes with me. Lindsey Buckingham. Cunningham's girlfriend, Stevie Nicks, couldn't wait to get off work. She was exhausted. It was the hours she kept her shift, kept her tied up until 5pm by the time she fought through rush hour traffic and got home, it was six. Then she'd have to clean up for Lindsey, who worked from home all day perfecting songs for their duo. Buckingham, Nicks, Stephie would empty the ashtrays, open their tiny LA apartment's windows, light candles and clear out the dank smell of dope. Lindsay, along with whichever other LA working musicians cycled through that apartment. Wadi Wak Tal and Warren Zevon among them, smoked all day long while working. Stephie would handle the mess. Then she'd clean herself up, force herself to remember to eat something, and by 9pm she'd be at Lindsay's side writing and working on music with him until 3am when she'd knock off, start to wind down, crash by far five, sleep until nine, be out the door by 10 and back to start her shift at 11. Welcome to Clementine's. My name is Stevie.

[Unknown Speaker]

Can I take your order?

[Jake Brennan]

Clementine's was a roaring twenties themed West Hollywood restaurant. Tourists, pencil Nicks, three martini lunch businessmen avoiding their bosses, geeks off the street, total cheese, hardly roaring, more of an unimpressive burger slinging wax meat museum with waitresses, dames done up in flapper outfits. Stevie Nicks was one of them. You want fries with that? She santo and johnnied her way through her shifts. She couldn't remember the last time she had a real full night of sleep. And tonight would be no different. She wasn't working on music with Lindsay tonight after work, though. Instead, the two of them were meeting up with the three remaining members of the English blues band Fleetwood Mac to discuss joining forces with Buckingham Nicks. Little did Stevie know this merger would prevent her from getting a proper night of sleep for the next decade plus, but it would be worth it. Magically, the two disparate styles of the folk duo Buckingham Nicks and hard blues of Fleetwood Mac fused into something wholly unique and wildly compelling. Lindsay quickly seized control musically asserting his vision, chop and songwriting prowess. It was hard for him not to. Inspired by the power and precision of the Fleetwood Mac rhythm section he now had playing behind him, Teaming the studied guitar, singing and arrangement talents of Lindsey Buckingham with Mick Fleetwood's steadily unique groove and John McVie's monster bass playing was like giving Mario Andretti the keys to a tricked out Peterbilt semi. Something powerfully effective emerged, and this new sound was completely original. Stevie's singular vibrato, a voice never, and I repeat, never heard in pop music before, floated perfectly atop this new sound. And to Stevie's credit, she was relatively egoless in her new role in a band she'd share with another female vocalist, Christine McVie, who herself was also without ego and in many ways the musical glue that held these wildly different parts together. Christine McVie, formerly Christine Perfect, was a veteran and a total pro. She was an educated musician who understood harmony as well as she understood low down blues. Her playing was tasteful, rooted in Americana, but fully conscious of the pop sensibility that was alchemating within this new lineup. And she sang like a bird. Stevie Nick's voice may have been the siren call that pulled you into bed under the lace canopy, but Christine McV's voice was the one that kept you there all weekend. The new Fleetwood Mac got down to work. They squirreled themselves away at Sound City with a new batch of songs demoed out of Christine and John's apartment and with a whole bunch of cocaine. America's first tidal wave of coke hit in Los Angeles in the mid-70s in Sound City Studios, was practically fueled by the drug. Nearly everyone who worked there or entered used, or was at least offered cocaine. The creatively obsessed members of Fleetwood Mac fell in love with the drug at first as a tool to use to help them stay up all night working, then as a tool to help them fight through their hangovers the next day. And the cycle was full tilt, and in the beginning it yielded miraculous creative results. The new Fleetwood Mac's first self titled titled album, released in 1975, not to be confused with the old Fleetwood Max versus self titled album, released with Peter Green at the helm back in 1968, was a powerful reminder of the promise of American pop music. Not since the Eagles eponymous debut in 1972 had an American band so effortlessly melded American roots influences into top 40 pop alchemy that proved irresistible to radio programmers and thus indelible to young music fans. Fleetwood Mac broke the band through in the States. It went to number one and sold more than 7 million copies with three different hit singles, Christine McVie's Over My Head in say youy Love Me and Stevie Nicks's Rhiannon. Not to mention classic album plays like Landslide and the Side A opener Monday morning With success in America came a tour of Europe. The band stayed with Eric Clapton in England. Eric lived with Pattie Boyd Harrison, George Harrison's ex, and Mick Fleetwood's sister in law. Patty was the sister to Mick's wife, Jenny. Clapton's massive home was unheeded, and despite the copious amounts of cocaine they ingested, they all nearly froze. That chill stayed with them throughout their tour, that feeling of never being warm enough unless you were on stage. Cold and hungry over were two constants. Cold in the hotel, hung over in the morning, dragging through soundcheck, freezing on the plane, exhausted at customs. France, Sweden, Germany didn't matter where they were. They were frigid, hanging and in no shape to deal, especially with what was about to happen next. Amsterdam Airport, Holland, Netherlands Whatever time of the day it was, it felt felt like morning. Whatever the temperature, it wasn't warm enough. And the show the night before cooked, and so too did the requisite after party, waiting to pass through customs. The airport was eerily quiet. Fleetwood Mac's entourage said little, just waited in line, passports in hand, to quietly move through this annoying ritual that always seemed to take too long no matter how quickly it passed. Band members, crew management hangers on, long haired men in heavy coats with unbuttoned shirts, chests exposed too tight, pants smelling of cigarettes, dank weed and expensive cologne. Women in floppy hats, coats buttoned tight fur collars, expensive handbags and the allure of rich perfume. All of them wearing sunglasses. Inside, they looked great, exactly like a traveling rock and roll band in the 70s should look glamorous, vampiric, hungover, and the women especially hot not just Stevie and Chris, their hair and makeup girls in the crew as well. The pervy customs agents weren't going to let them pass without a search. They had cause after all. Look at them. They screamed, drugged out mess. The women just the women were unceremoniously pulled out of line and into a private back room. Each was told lose their jackets, then their blouses. Begrudgingly, Stevie nicks and Christine McVie, each of whom looked as though they could pummel the manipulative customs agents at any moment, obliged along with the female members of their crew. Then they were told to strip off their pants down to their panties. The pervy agents could barely suppress their giggles. The girls, despite their brave front, were more than likely scared standing near naked in that front freezing room, as were the men in the entourage waiting for them outside of the room with no idea what was going on. No drugs were found. The whole affair amounted to a pathetic, manipulative and cheap scene, a humiliating strip search of just the women in the band's entourage by the male customs agents. Customs informed Fleetwood Mac's management that they were operating on a tip of the band's rumored cocaine use. Rumors, not actual evidence. Rumors supposedly compelled the customs agents to search the women in the band's entourage, and rumors would also compel Fleetwood Mac to a level of success that would ensure the band would never have to fly commercial again. A level of rock stardom that was beyond the band's wildest dreams of excess and deepest fears of disgrace. Jake Brennan and this episode of Disgraceland is to be continued.

[Unknown Speaker]

Disgrace Land was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes [e-mail] if you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgracelandpod.com membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland Ad Free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com membership for details. Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on [e-mail] Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla.

He's a bad, bad man.