You can take me to the paradise

In 2017, my wife Judy was shopping for clothes with her friend Marie in a Malibu boutique store. When she came out of the dressing room in a fashionable blue jumpsuit, a woman standing nearby exclaimed, “Oh darling, you have to buy that. It looks great on you!” As Judy and Marie returned to the dressing room, Marie whispered, “Isn’t that Christine McVie?” Judy replied, “Sure is!”

We had all gone to see Fleetwood Mac the previous day at Dodger Stadium as part of “The Classic,” a two-day concert showcase of classic rock bands including Steely Dan, The Doobie Brothers, Earth Wind and Fire, Journey and The Eagles. McVie was staying in Malibu for a couple of days and, as luck would have it, had wandered into the store where Judy was shopping.

I tell this story to illustrate that, on that day, McVie was every bit the sort of warm, kind person she has been reputed to be throughout her life. As a member of one of the most successful bands in rock music history, she could have easily been one of the more self-absorbed rock stars who wouldn’t have paid any attention to a stranger trying on a new outfit. But she made a point of stopping and offering a friendly remark, making a lasting impression in the process.

Christine McVie in 1997

It was a sad day last week in our house when we heard that McVie had died at age 79. The cause of death was not reported, but she had been suffering from chronic scoliosis for some time, which affected her mobility and her ability to perform on stage.

In a Rolling Stone article six months ago, she responded to Mick Fleetwood’s hope that the band would reunite for one last farewell tour. “I don’t feel physically up for it,” she said. “I’m in quite bad health. I’ve got a chronic back problem which debilitates me. I stand up to play the piano, so I don’t know if I could actually physically do it. Touring is bloody hard work. What’s that saying? ‘The mind is willing, but the flesh is weak.'”

Said Fleetwood last week, “Part of my heart has flown away today. My dear sweet friend Christine McVie has taken to flight, and left us earthbound folks to listen to the sounds of that ‘songbird.’ I will miss everything about you, Chris.”

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Born in Lancashire, England, in 1943, Christine Anne Perfect was raised in a musical environment where her father and grandfather were accomplished performers (concert violinist and organist, respectively). She trained as a classical pianist until her older brother introduced her to rock and roll and the blues. “I couldn’t get enough of B.B. King, Little Walter, Sonny Boy Williamson, all those great Black American blues guys,” she recalled, falling in with other like-minded peers and singing in various struggling groups while attending art college, ultimately becoming keyboardist and singer with a London-based blues band called Chicken Shack.

“In 1966, we talked Christine into joining Chicken Shack,” Stan Webb, the band’s guitarist, said last week. “At that time there weren’t really any female band members on the British blues scene, so she was hesitant. I think she only joined to shut us up! Chicken Shack used the same studios as Fleetwood Mac in 1967-68, and it was there that Chris met Peter Green and his band. The rest is wonderful history. We sowed the seed, and from that seed grew this massive talent. I am grateful to have been a part of it. Rest In Peace, Chris. A legend never dies.”

Christine Perfect, 1969

In 1969, at the same time the original lineup of Fleetwood Mac had three Top Ten albums and four big hit singles on the UK charts, Chicken Shack, with Christine on lead vocals, charted at #14 with “I’d Rather Go Blind,” a smoldering cover of the Etta James blues track. By then, the bands became friendly, performing at the same clubs, often on the same bill. Christine took a fancy to Mac bassist John McVie — “He had a wonderful sense of humor, the most endearing person” — and the two married the same year.

Christine overlapped only briefly with Green, so you don’t see many photos of them together, but she was a huge fan of the original lineup and was keenly aware of Green’s contributions. “He was massively talented, and just a wonderful guy as well,” she recalled. When Green abruptly left the group he founded in 1970, Chris was invited to join on keyboards and occasional vocals. Thanks to guitarists/songwriters Danny Kirwan and, later, Bob Welch, Fleetwood Mac moved on from the blues to a more rock-based sound, sometimes hard-edged but usually with a sweeter, melodic groove. McVie’s original songs started showing up on the group’s LPs during this stage — thoughtful tunes like “Show Me a Smile” on 1971’s “Future Games,” “Spare Me a Little” on 1972’s “Bare Trees,” “Just Crazy Love” on 1973’s “Mystery to Me” and the rousing title track on 1974’s “Heroes Are Hard to Find.”

The band in 1974: John McVie, Mick Fleetwood, Bob Welch, Christine McVie

The media have typically given short shrift to this phase of Fleetwood Mac, overshadowed by the fertile blues period (in the UK) before it, and the stratospherically successful yet emotionally fraught era that followed. I think that’s a shame, because it was on these albums in the 1971-74 period when Christine McVie was showing significant growth as a songwriter and singer, taking on the role of the calm, steadfastly rational center of the lineup she would end up holding throughout her tenure in the band.

By the time Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joined the group in 1975, giving Fleetwood Mac a compelling variety of strong material from three talented singer-songwriters, Christine had hit her stride with her sunny brand of melodic songs like “Over My Head” (the group’s first Top 20 single in the US), “Warm Ways” and the contagious “Say You Love Me.” This winning streak continued on the multiplatinum “Rumours” LP with “Don’t Stop” (#3) and “You Make Loving Fun” (#9), and what would become her signature tune, the gorgeous ballad “Songbird.”

Discussing the genesis of “Songbird,” McVie said, “I woke up in the middle of the night and the song just came into my head. I got out of bed, played it on the little piano I have in my room, and sang it with no tape recorder. I sang it from beginning to end: everything. I can’t tell you quite how I felt; it was as if I’d been visited. It was a very spiritual thing.”

Fleetwood Mac in 1975: Lindsey Buckingham, Christine McVie, Mick Fleetwood, Stevie Nicks, John McVie

Want more? There were plenty to come: “Think About Me” and “Brown Eyes” from 1979’s “Tusk”; “Hold Me” and “Only Over You” from 1982’s “Mirage”; and especially “Little Lies” (#4) and “Everywhere” (#14) from 1987’s “Tango in the Night.” McVie’s “Save Me” from 1990’s “Behind the Mask” was Fleetwood Mac’s final appearance on the US Top 40.

Nicks wrote and sang some killer songs in her early days, and Buckingham is a formidable songwriter in his own right, but for the most part, I’ve always found Christine McVie’s songs and vocals more to my liking. She could write a gorgeous, commercially appealing hook, integrate it into a three-minute pop symphony and deliver it with that authoritative yet sweet voice, and I, for one, just lapped it up. A songbird, indeed.

While Christine typically maintained a sense of normalcy as the other band members were caught in various melodramas and rock-star excess, she was not without her own issues. She and John McVie divorced in 1976; she had a public romance with one of the band’s crew members and also Beach Boy Dennis Wilson; and a 15-year marriage to musician Eddy Quintela that ended badly.

McVie in 1984

In the 1980s, when both Buckingham and Nicks pursued solo careers on the side, Christine stuck her toe in the water with a solo album that yielded a Top Ten single, “Got a Hold on Me.” She enlisted the help of Buckingham and Fleetwood on a few tracks, as well as British luminaries Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood, but the LP performed only modestly. Said McVie at the time, “Maybe it isn’t the most adventurous album in the world, but I wanted to be honest and please my own ears with it. I tend to like the traditional sound: three-part harmonies, guitar and piano.” (Check out my Spotify playlist below to acquaint yourself with some of the strong tracks from that album.)

The group’s lineup was full of change in the 1990-1997 period, with Christine McVie, Nicks and Buckingham each leaving for a spell, and temporary replacements Billy Burnette and Rick Vito (and later Dave Mason and Bekka Bramlett) gamely filling in. Somehow, the volatile original lineup mended seemingly unmendable fences and reunited in 1997 for “The Dance,” a live performance that was recorded as a live album that then sparked a year-long tour. It seemed the band was back in the saddle.

In 1998, though, McVie decided she’d had enough, and amicably quit the group and the music business in general. “I thought, ‘I want to be home in England and live a normal, domestic life with roots,'” she said in 2014. “I bought a house in Kent, and it had to be rebuilt brick by brick, and I did that quite lovingly. Then my marriage (to Quintela) fell apart, and I found myself in this huge place, alone in the middle of nowhere, and I got myself in a bit of trouble. I fell down the stairs, hurt my back and started taking pills for the pain. La-di-da, one thing led to the other, and I got a bit isolated. I sought help with a therapist, and discovered I had other issues. Eventually I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my life. The answer was clear: I couldn’t just sit there in the country anymore, rotting away. I needed to find my way back to Fleetwood Mac.”

She did record one solo album during that time, 2004’s “In the Meantime,” which again had typically great McVie melodies and vocal performances but was almost completely ignored, a fate for which she claims some responsibility. “I’d developed a fear of flying, which hindered my ability to promote the album or tour with my own band,” she noted. “I’ve never felt like I was a solo artist. I’ve always preferred to be part of a group. I’ve never really had the desire to be the center of attention. It just made me uneasy to headline a solo tour.” (Again, I think that’s a crying shame — I urge you to listen to the music from that album on the playlist below.)

Her final foray into the studio came in surprising fashion when she partnered with Buckingham in 2017 for “Lindsey Buckingham Christine McVie,” an enjoyable collection of tunes by the two songwriters, released after attempts fell through to record a new Fleetwood Mac album with songs from Nicks as well.

McVie and Nicks in 1997

McVie had said she and Nicks hit it off right away when Nicks joined the band in 1975, and they became close during their long months on the road during the band’s peak years, but they had significant differences. “Stevie really had her feet on the ground, along with a tremendous sense of humor, which she still has,” she said in 1984. “But she developed her own fantasy world somehow, which I’m not part of. We really haven’t socialized much.”

Todd Sharp, a veteran American guitarist who worked closely with Christine on her 1984 solo LP, had this to say in the wake of her passing: “She asked me to write songs with her, put a band together and make a record in England. Somebody pinch me! Chris, you left this place better than you found it, and your music and voice will live on forever. I will never forget the opportunity you offered me and the confidence you instilled in me. I will never forget your beautiful soul, your grace, friendship and generosity.”

Fleetwood Mac, with McVie still in the fold, did one last tour in 2019. Her final stage appearance, as it turned out, came in February 2020, just before the COVID pandemic hit, when she participated in a tribute concert at the London Palladium following the death of Peter Green.

McVie’s final LP (2022)

Even as her health was flagging earlier this year, McVie stayed busy by re-recording some of the overlooked tracks from her two solo albums, plus an orchestrated rendition of “Songbird,” and released it several months ago as “Songbird (A Solo Collection).”

Mike Campbell, former member of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers who played guitar in Fleetwood Mac for that 2019 tour, said last week, “Dear, sweet Christine has left us…..that voice, those eyes, that smile. No one like her in the universe.  I remember in rehearsal once after playing ‘I’d Rather Go Blind,’ she looked at me and said, ‘I like playing the blues with you, Mike.’ I’ve never met anyone with such an angelic aura. Always so kind to everyone. We will all miss you so. No one could ever fill those shoes.”

Christine McVie reflected on her time in Fleetwood Mac by saying, “Even though I am quite a peaceful person, I did enjoy that storm. Although it’s said that we fought a lot, we actually did spend a lot of our time laughing.”

Rest in peace, Christine. Thanks for all the deeply satisfying music you added to my music collection.

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Some readers might find this 80-song playlist rather daunting, but I wanted to provide a complete overview of her songs to help readers understand the breadth of her songwriting career. In addition to every song she wrote and sang for Fleetwood Mac, there are several tracks from her time with Chicken Shack, her three solo albums and her 2017 project with Lindsey Buckingham.

Do you like good music? That sweet soul music

Ahhhh, soul music!

Gospel-style music with secular lyrics emerged in the late ’50s as an amalgam of rhythm-and-blues and gospel. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame defines soul music as “music that arose out of the black experience in America through the transmutation of gospel and rhythm & blues into a form of funky, secular testifying.” The best soul music offered impassioned vocals, handclaps, call-and-response arrangements, heartfelt lyrics and, most of all, irresistible rhythms that compelled people to get up and dance. 

As a white kid growing up in suburbia, I knew almost nothing of “the black experience,” but I was certainly moved by the music I was hearing on Top 40 radio that co-mingled with The Beatles and The Beach Boys beginning around 1964. I heard a lot of soul music thanks to an older sister who exposed me to many of the songs coming from the artists on Motown, Stax and Atlantic Records. It was all such fun, so joyous and energetic, despite voices that sometimes sounded deeply anguished if you took the time to listen to the pain of unrequited love and injustice in the lyrics.

The biggest soul music hits are still played endlessly, from The O’Jays’ “Backstabbers” and Stevie Wonder’s “I Was Made to Love Her” to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” and The Four Tops’ “Reach Out I’ll Be There.”

In this special edition of my periodic “Lost Classics” feature, I am focusing on 16 “lost soul classics” — tasty R&B-based tracks that likely went under your radar because they were B-sides or deep album tracks that got almost no radio play, plus a few minor hits that have been long forgotten…until now.

These songs all have a wonderful ’60s energy to them. I invite you to dance around your living room as you listen to the Spotify playlist at the end!

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“Let Yourself Go,” James Brown, 1967

Brown recorded “Let Yourself Go” and several other great tracks after hours in a Philadelphia nightclub where he had a 10-day engagement in 1967. The Fabulous Flames, Brown’s longtime backing vocalists and dancers, were near the tale end of their relationship with the volatile star, but they’re still heard on this recording. It was released as a single, which charted at #5 on R&B charts and #46 on pop charts, so mainstream audiences never heard it much compared to Brown’s signature hits. The track adopts the signature early funk that Brown favored throughout his uptempo catalog.

“I’m Doin’ Fine Now,” New York City, 1972

Originally known as The Tri-boro Exchange, this vocally talented R&B group changed their name to New York City in 1972 and recorded for the Chelsea label with the great Thom Bell. This collaboration resulted in one of my favorite soul tracks, the underappreciated 1973 minor hit, “I’m Doin’ Fine Now,” written by Bell. Peaking at #17 that spring, the tune’s joyous tempo and arrangement are underscored by lyrics in which the narrator mourns the day of his romantic breakup but is proud of his ability to eventually adopt a positive attitude about it all. New York City continued recording and touring for another three years but failed to match the success of their first single.

“Two Lovers,” Mary Wells, 1964

Just about everyone knows Wells as the girl who sang “My Guy,” the song Smokey Robinson wrote for her in 1964 that became an enormous #1 hit here and in the UK. Wells had in fact been recording hit singles since 1962 and earned the nickname “The Queen of Motown” for her role in bringing R&B music and black artists to mainstream America. Among her accomplishments was the #7 hit “Two Lovers,” which at first seems to about two men (one who treats her well and the other who treats her badly) but is actually the same guy whose mood swings determine how he behaves toward her. Wells had a falling out with Motown and bounced around between several labels throughout the ’60s and early ’70s as she struggled in vain to duplicate her early glory.

“A Change,” Aretha Franklin, 1968

“The Queen of Soul” had so many familiar hits that sometimes her deeper album tracks got overlooked. I’ve always dug this song from her 1968 LP, “Aretha Now,” written by the prolific songwriter/producer Clyde Otis, who collaborated with many dozens of artists, most often with Brook Benton. “Aretha Now” reached #3 on the US album chart on the strength of three hits — the irrepressible “Think” (#7), her cover of “I Say a Little Prayer for You” (#10) and “See-Saw” (#14) — but there are seven other tracks you might have missed or forgotten about, like “A Change.”

“Love Man,” Otis Redding, 1969

The death of Redding at age 26 in a plane crash in late 1967 was a huge loss for the R&B community and the mainstream pop world as well. He had just begun to be more widely appreciated following his riveting performance at the Monterey Pop Festival and, fortunately for us, he recorded several dozen tracks in the latter half of 1967 that Atco Records released on a few posthumous albums in 1968 and 1969. “Love Man” was one of these LPs, reaching #46 on the album chart in 1969. The title song, written by Redding, has a funky groove, courtesy of Booker T and the MGs’ accompaniment, and although it stalled at #72 on the pop charts, it reached #17 on the R&B chart.

“Baby, Call on Me,” Wilson Pickett, 1963

Solomon Burke, one of the founding fathers of soul music in the late ’50s, was a friend and supporter of a young Wilson Pickett, urging his signing at Atlantic Records, but label head Jerry Wexler was hesitant at first. Pickett had written and recorded “If You Need Me” and was on track to score his first big hit with it, but Wexler had recorded a reluctant Burke doing it and rush-released his version. Because he was an established star, Burke’s version got the attention, peaking at #2 on R&B charts while Pickett’s stalled at #30 (and only #64 on pop charts). The B-side of Pickett’s single, “Baby, Call On Me,” is arguably as great as the intended hit, but it was ignored. Check it out!

“When the Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes,” The Supremes, 196?

Preceding their big breakthrough in 1964 with “Where Did Our Love Go,” “Baby Love” and three other #1 smash hits, The Supremes had been recording for Motown Records since 1961. The brilliant songwriting/producing team of Holland-Dozier-Holland, responsible for most of The Supremes’ biggest hits, first worked with them on “When the Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes,” the group’s first entry in the Top 40 (at #23) in late 1963. Brian Holland said the record was modeled after, and in response to, producer Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound” recording technique in vogue at the time. Some say Motown songs were too polished and not gritty enough to be considered “soul,” but that’s not the way millions of listeners (like me) saw it.

“Soul Finger,” The Bar-Kays, 1967

Formed in 1964 in Memphis as a band of session musicians at Stax Records, The Bar-Kays were selected to become Otis Redding’s backup band, participating in several recordings and on tour. Sadly, four of their members were on the same plane with Redding when it crashed in 1967, but the surviving members regrouped and ended up putting together a long and successful career on the R&B charts throughout the ’70s and ’80s. In the mainstream, their most famous moment came early when the original lineup recorded the festive “Soul Finger” in 1967. Neighborhood kids were called in to intermittently shout “soul finger!” and join in the studio merriment. It was a #17 hit on pop charts.

“Tainted Love,” Gloria Jones, 1964

It’s a safe bet that most of the US record-buying public had no idea that British synth-pop duo Soft Cell’s international #1 hit “Tainted Love” was originally a soul record recorded by American singer Gloria Jones in 1964. Written by Ed Cobb, the song was released by Jones as the B-side of “My Bad Boy’s Coming Home,” a commercial flop on the small Champion label. In the late ’60s, a dance movement known as “Northern Soul” took root in towns in Northern England, where obscure American soul records were promoted and became hugely popular. Soft Cell’s Marc Almond heard Love’s record of “Tainted Love” and chose to give it the New Wave treatment and found spectacular success with it. I find it fascinating listening to Love’s version now.

“Ain’t No Sun Since You’ve Been Gone,” The Temptations, 1967

The songwriting team of Norman Whitfield, Cornelius Grant and Sylvia Moy came up with this uptempo beauty in 1966 and worked with Gladys Knight and The Pips to record it, but nothing came of it. Whitfield and Grant had collaborated with Eddie Holland to write “(I Know) I’m Losing You” for The Temptations, and when that song became a huge hit, the songwriters modified “Ain’t No Sun Since You’ve Been Gone” to mimic it and put it on The Tempts’ next LP. It may be a copycat track, but I think it stands up on its own merit as a quality record in The Temptations’ catalog. The following year, Dusty Springfield took a stab at it for her Dusty…Definitely” album.

“Woman’s Gotta Have It,” Bobby Womack, 1972

The multi-talented Womack served as Sam Cooke’s guitarist, contributed to records byAretha Franklin and Sly and The Family Stone and wrote songs for other artists (including “It’s All Over Now” for The Rolling Stones and “Breezin'” for George Benson) during his 60-year career. Beginning in 1969, Womack debuted as a solo artist and, in 1972, he made his first Top 40 appearance with “That’s the Way I Feel About Cha,” reaching #27 (and peaking at #2 on the R&B chart). Next up was “Woman’s Gotta Have It,” a #1 single on the R&B chart that inexplicably stalled at #60 on the pop chart. I was first introduced to the song when James Taylor covered it on his 1976 LP “In the Pocket,” but I really enjoy Womack’s original as well.

“You Don’t Know What You Mean to Me,” Sam & Dave, 1968

Steve “The Colonel” Cropper, guitarist and producer for the Stax Records house session band Booker T and the MGs, became involved with several of the Stax artists’ records, most notably Sam & Dave. You can hear Cropper’s name called out in the middle of their biggest hit “Soul Man” when Sam Moore says “Play it, Steve!” The exciting hits of Moore and Dave Prater (“Soul Man,” “Hold On I’m Comin’,” “I Thank You”) overshadowed many other terrific tracks hiding on their albums, and the one that sticks out for me is “You Don’t Know What You Mean to Me,” a song Cropper wrote.

“Somebody Have Mercy,” Sam Cooke, 1962

Virtually every soul singer who followed in his wake mentions Cooke as one of their most important influences, and it’s easy to see why. Although rooted firmly in the gospel tradition, Cooke began singing blues, traditional and R&B music in 1958, beginning with his biggest hit, “You Send Me.” Between 1960 and 1964, he scored a dozen Top 20 hits (“Cupid,” “Chain Gang,” “Twistin’ the Night Away,” “Let the Good Times Roll”), some of which had B-sides that were arguably as good as the A-side. Case in point: “Somebody Have Mercy,” the flip side of the #12 hit “Nothing Can Change This Love” in 1962.

“Sugar,” Stevie Wonder, 1970

Watching “Little Stevie” Wonder mature from a child prodigy with a #1 hit (“Fingertips”) at age 12 to a phenomenal young man with three Album of the Year Grammy awards in the 1970s was truly a sight to behold. Before he came up with titanic LPs like “Innervisions” and “Songs in the Key of Life,” he still had some work to do. His 1970 LP “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” included four pop chart hits that kept his impressive streak going, including “Heaven Help Us All” and the title track. One of Wonder’s most soulful tracks, “Sugar,” can be found deep on this album, showcasing his vocals and the clavinet. It’s rarely if ever heard on the radio, and he has curiously never played it in concert.

“Love Feels Like Fire,” The Four Tops, 1965

The spectacular voice of lead singer Levi Stubbs is the primary reason The Four Tops emerged from the Motown stable as one of their premier acts, emboldened by the wondrous songs and production values of the Holland-Dozier-Holland triumvirate. We all know the hits: “I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch),” “Standing in the Shadows of Love,” “Bernadette,” “Baby I Need Your Loving.” But wow, check out the other tunes on LPs like “Four Tops Second Album.” It’s hard not to like “Love Feels Like Fire,” which I’d never heard until this week when I started digging through the group’s catalog.

“Talkin’ ‘Bout You,” Ray Charles, 1958

When you consider the pioneers of soul music, Ray Charles is at the top of the list. His earliest records in the late ’40s and early ’50s offered a combination of blues, jazz, rhythm-and-blues and swing that, by the late ’50s had spawned this new musical genre eventually known as soul. On his second LP for Atlantic, “Yes Indeed!,” I’ve always been partial to “Talkin’ ‘Bout You,” one of seven tracks Charles wrote that showcases his expressive voice. A word to the wise: Look beyond “Lonely Avenue” and his other signature songs (“What’d I Say,” “Georgia On My Mind”) and revel in the countless deep tracks that provide ample evidence where soul originated.

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