In 1969, Hollies/Buffalo Springfield/Byrds supergroup Crosby Stills and Nash released their debut album, which remains an undisputed hit to this day. Just eight months later, after adding Neil Young, they released Deja Vu, a sprawling, inconsistent disc showcasing a band that already sounded like it was fracturing.

​It was true. That summer, CSNY dissolved, and all four members would release solo albums before 1970 was over. 

In the following years, Neil Young returned to Crazy Horse. Stephen Stills formed Manassas. Crosby and Nash, however, were still pretty chill with eachother (note: this has changed). In 1972, they released Graham Nash/David Crosby, the first of many albums released by different combinations of the four artists (there was also the Stills-Young Band and various appearances across eachother’s solo records).

​It’s not hard to anticipate what the album sounds like: free of their harder rocking bandmates, Nash and Crosby lean more toward the folk side of folk rock, Nash using the full extent of his pop sensibilities (“Southbound Train,” “Immigrant Man”), Crosby creating darker mood pieces (“Whole Cloth,” “Where Will I Be?”). What’s surprising, however, is how much fresher it is than Deja Vu.

​Where Deja Vu often diverged into a pissing contest between the four partners, this disk is almost entirely free of ego, both members singularly focused on the project above themselves. This freshness rockets this understated disk into the upper strata of the CSNandsometimesY comprehensive catalogue. ​

To be completely honest, I probably never would have had any interest in gates if it weren’t for their current tour with Thrice and La Dispute (which, sadly, I have to miss).
But after listening to this, their second full length, it’s a really good thing they are, because I almost certainly would have missed out on this record (instead of ordering it as soon as I realized I wasn’t going to be able to make the show), and that would have been sad.

A lot can happen in ten years. For Fleetwood Mac, between 1972 and 1982, they saw at least four lineup changes, which led to the iconic pairing of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, which became the most celebrated incarnation of the band (and rightfully so). Halfway through the decade, they released Rumours, their undisputed opus, onset by the romantic tension between its bandleaders. In 1981, Stevie Nicks released her first solo record, Bella Donna. So what was next for Fleetwood Mac, five years, one album, and a solo career separated from their most iconic work?

Record #337: Fleetwood Mac – Mystery To Me (1973)
The strangest thing about Fleetwood Mac is how many incarnations of the band there has been (the Wikipedia page “List of Fleetwood Mac members” features a detailed graph).

Drummer Mick Fleetwood and bassist John McVie (the eponymous Fleetwood and Mac) played behind five different lead singers before Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks took the helm. This album (with its strange, strange cover—don’t ask me why the ape is crying) features bandleaders Bob Welch and Christine McVie, who would remain a staple in the later, more famous version. 

This disc is only separated from the other pre-BuckNicks album I own (Bare Trees) by a year and another album (Penguin), but this doesn’t sound like the same band at all.

​While Bare Trees was a mostly forgettable blues rock record, Mystery To Me has got some hooks to it. “Hypnotize” rides along a brooding dance rhythm. “Keep on Going” mixes blues with heavy disco strings. The cover of the Yardbirds’ “For Your Love” plays with unexpected song structures, weaving in and out of tempos in a way the group’s early blues rock would never hint at.

​And while Bob Welch would only helm one more album for Fleetwood Mac before Lindsey and Stevie would rocket them to superstardom, Mystery To Me finds Welch and McVie pointing the ship in the right direction for them.

Alright, now here’s a Stockholm secondhand record that’s actually pretty great. What I didn’t know when I picked this up is that Luiz Banfa is one of the most acclaimed samba guitarists in Brazil, and this record shows why…

Here’s another secondhand Stockholm record. I bought this one (translated as “When the Fog Lifts”) because I thought the photo was cool, and because some old dude saw me pick it up and said, “oooo…Bernt Staf…” I put it on once, and couldn’t get through the poorly song, classical guitar-led first track. I didn’t think I could make it through an entire album of that…

 Luckily though, I don’t have to, because the very next track introduces a funky drum beat, popping bass, and screaming organ, which lends some credence to his reputation (according to the Swedish language Wikipedia) as one of the country’s foremost prog rock musicians. If there was more of that on here, that’d be great. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be the case, because the next two tracks are folk ballads (one with classical guitar, one with a piano and a Dylan impression). Then a weird honky tonk thing? I can’t finish this song.

(flips record)

Another bad folk track. Wait…second track starts with distorted organ, is it gonna be…nope. It’s another folk ballad. Wait, hold up…there’s the drums. Is it gonna get…well…the second side plays a lot more with dynamics than the first.

Where the songs on the first side were either ballad or rock song, almost every song on the second side starts with just classical guitar with the band coming in on the choruses, with shades of Beatles here and there. It’s an improvement, but it’s nothing I’m going to listen to again.
​
Ah well. Another souvenir for the shelf. I’m gonna listen to pg.lost for a palate cleanse. Now THAT is some good Swedish music.

I picked this up in a discount bin at secondhand store in Stockholm for 10 kroner (about $1.30) because the cover was “omg so 80s,” and I’ve never listened to it. 

​Till now…

Apparently, she’s Italian though, which might explain her overdramatic delivery. It’s not…completely terrible though. There are some good pop moments, even if they are largely lifted from ABBA and 80s lady rockers like Bonnie Tyler. Messaggio closes the first side with the best marriage of Eurodisco and Pat Benatar-esque pop rock you could imagine, which…still isn’t that great.

TBH, this record sitting next in the queue (and a few like it) is what delayed this blog for so long. I just didn’t want to have to sit down with it and churn out a couple paragraphs about it. But I can’t even bring myself to listen the B side. Nothing there will make this record worth my time. It will forever sit on my shelf as a reminder of my wonderful trip to Sweden. 

Time to blast through the rest of this queue. ​