When I was younger, Fleetwood Mac were the IKEA, the Tesco ready meal, the Wigan Athletic of music – safe, bland and, most importantly, listened to by my mum. Gradually, though, I came to the love the Mac’s perfectly crafted drive-time pop/rock. And I came to think this was acceptable, due the rock ‘n roll way in which their music was made i.e. with shitloads of drugs and nearly as many in-house break-ups.
In fact The Chain includes one of the greatest guitar riffs of all time, and even soundtracks the resolutely un-mummish F1. A good few friends agree too – a Fleetwood Mac band T-shirt is no longer disregarded to the back of ‘just for bed’ pile, but worn loud and proud.