
This isn't the sun-drenched California pop most associate with the name Fleetwood Mac; this is the sound of a band deeply immersed in the shadows of the British blues boom.
It is a world of sustain-heavy Gibson Les Pauls, weeping slide guitars, and a rhythm section that hits with a heavy, unhurried thud. The atmosphere is thick with the smell of stale beer and the quiet desperation of the late 1960s London underground. Each track feels like a snapshot of a band trying to push the boundaries of the 12-bar blues into something more psychedelic and haunting.
How does Black Magic Woman: The Best of Fleetwood Mac sound next to the rest of Fleetwood Mac's catalogue?
Brooding saturates this record notably more than the artist's norm.
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