— Mike Stand
Indeed. What could be better than to promote a live album with a single recorded in a studio?
We like to think that the live experience is authentic and it's an easy delusion to maintain if we so desire. We don't have to examine the stage to see the setlist and name of the city taped to the stage. We can convince ourselves that the between-song banter ("let's play this song...you know, the easy one...even you can play it!"; oh, the hilarity) is impromptu. We can rationalize that the singer getting choked up in an emotional moment was a one-in-a-lifetime thing and there's no way he or she would repeat the trick the next night.In truth, however, these sorts of tricks are easier to spot than the secrets of a scripted wrestling match. And pop stars know it and that's why most live albums are embellished in the studio.
In 1979 Fleetwood Mac chose to follow the insanely successful Rumours with Tusk, a supposedly difficult double album that supposedly turned millions of fans off. It's difficult now to understand why things fell off so spectacularly for them: for all those catchy if somewhat jarring new wavy tracks from Lindsay Buckingham, there are still the contributions of Stevie Nicks and, in particular, Christine McVie which underscore the fact that they hadn't changed all that much at all. (Songs like "Sara", "Storms", "Brown Eyes" and "Never Forget" hold up against anything else they ever did, to say nothing of excellent Buckingham cuts like "I Know I'm Not Wrong" and "Tusk", probably their finest single) It didn't sell anywhere close to its predecessor but factors such as changing tastes and the two disc set being pricey likely contributed at least as much to their commercial decline.
Nevertheless, there was still enough of an audience out there for them to embark on a world tour that was even bigger than two years earlier when they toured Rumours. Playing well over a hundred shows in North America, Europe, Japan and Oceania in just under a year, Fleetwood Mac's setlists leaned heavily on material from both Rumours and Tusk, as well as their 1975 self-titled album which kicked off the group's Buckingham-Nicks golden era. Being so well stocked in quality songwriters, they weren't much inclined towards padding out their repertoire with cover versions. As such, "The Farmer's Daughter", a deep cut on The Beach Boys' 1963 album Surfin' USA, was never performed on the tour, not even in a backstage soundcheck for a selection of family and friends.
On the Live album released at the end of 1980, "The Farmer's Daughter" features a smattering of cheers at the end and the recording is drenched in echo: just what you might expect if they were playing a lighthearted little number for shits and giggles while warming up for a concert in Champaign, Illinois or Valley Center, Kansas (no matter how obscure, there isn't a US city bands won't play even if they'll bypass metros of several million in other countries); in fact, it was recorded during the Tusk sessions, minus the crowd noise and effects. If live albums could be enhanced in the studio, why not cut songs in the studio disguised as live?
Why did they choose to record it all? It's hard to say but Buckingham was a lifelong fan of Brian Wilson while McVie was in the midst of a relationship with Dennis. The Beach Boys spent the early part of the seventies flourishing creatively with albums such as Sunflower, Surf's Up and Holland but their stock had fallen by the time Fleetwood Mac were on the rise. Their increasingly poor run of albums of late didn't harm their status as a popular live act and the two groups were among the most popular concert attractions in pop. More to the point, the original dates back to their early period as a surf rock group and little if any care seems to have gone into their recording of "The Farmer's Daughter". Brian was already a formidable talent in pop but his compositions were rushed and his bandmates weren't capable enough musicians to do his work justice.
Fleetwood Mac's version indicates what might have been, had Brian been able to record it his way and/or had Carl Wilson been allowed to give it a much more of the delicate vocal treatment it deserved. McVie and Nicks purr their way through a gorgeous recording, with just some simple guitar chords to guide them along the way. It's a little more restrained than much of what's on Tusk, as if ver Mac weren't quite sure what they were doing with it, but that's probably advantageous. It wouldn't have fit on the album and it was likely never in consideration but it's surprising that they couldn't have placed it on a B-side. Instead, they threw it on their first live LP, a curio of what you may have missed had you not gone to see them. Turns out, you would've missed it even if you had been there.
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Joe Dolce's Music Theatre: "Shaddap You Face"
And while we're on the subject of fake live recordings, Joe Dolce made a career out of this unfunny cringe-fest loaded with cod-Italian and lazy stereotypes — and with an "audience" joining in at the end! Mike Stand hates it, Tom Ewing hates it, this humble blogger hates it but who can argue with those millions of listeners who were charmed enough by that they helped make this vile record a global smash all over the world in the early part of 1981. Mercifully, it doesn't get played much anymore which no doubt prompts certain reactionary types to cry that it's yet another sign of how depressingly woke we've all become. I say that the song's offensive and terrible and deserves to be forgotten. Who's to say who's correct?
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