In an interview with The Guardian earlier this year, McVie even described “Songbird” as “sort of a little prayer for everybody,” which explains why it jumped to mind immediately after the news of her passing. “Songbird” isn’t just a song, it’s a gift from the heavens that was sent to Christine McVie and it sounds, every time, like something holy. It has taken me more than 30 minutes to write the blurb about that song. I’ll say that again: She wrote this gorgeous, enduring piece of music in 30 minutes. As she has said in multiple interviews over the years, “Songbird” came to McVie in the middle of the night: She wrote it in a half-hour, then stayed up all night until one of the band’s producers was awake and could help her record it. Like the best ballads, its beauty lies in its simplicity: It is carried entirely by the sound of piano keys and the soaring, yet always controlled, lilt of McVie’s voice. The last track on side one of Rumours, the quintessential (and most successful) Fleetwood Mac album, shows us McVie’s voice, as a singer and songwriter, in full emotional bloom. When I saw the news about Christine McVie’s death, this song immediately started playing in my head. Now whenever I listen to “Over My Head,” I think about springtime in college, my dad, and how I’m now the same age he was when he was bobbing his head to Christine’s voice on the radio. According to my dad, Christine sent John a four-track Tascam recorder, which he and my dad used to record John’s jazz band. One day, I was chatting with my dad about this song in particular, and to my surprise, he told me that he used to jam with McVie’s brother, John Perfect, back when my dad owned a disco club in the Philippines. In college, I had a collection of my dad’s CDs that I’d play in my car. She wrote it about bandmate Lindsey Buckingham, which is not the last time another bandmate would be the focal point of her songwriting. It was the first Fleetwood Mac song that I truly loved. The rhythm and instrumentation alone make it a classic, easy listening soft rock track, but I like how it puts a spotlight on McVie’s husky, bluesy voice. Out of all of McVie’s vocal performances, “Over My Head” is my favorite. (Some fans don’t know that she also sings co-lead on the song with Lindsey Buckingham - if anything, a testament to how well their voices blend, while also an unfortunate example of how her integral contributions to the band can fade to the background.) Along with the chorus, the last verse packs one of the album’s most empathetic moments: “All I want is to see you smile / If it takes just a little while / I know you don’t believe that it’s true / I never meant any harm to you.” The only thing to stop the tears from rolling is that damn catchy chorus rushing around the corner. That powerful chorus anchors one of McVie’s most upbeat songs, a swinging rock number held down by her piano, which she pounds like a percussionist. This one - “Don’t stop thinkin’ about tomorrow” - was directed at her husband, John, as their marriage deteriorated during the recording of Rumours. McVie understood the power of simplicity, writing her best songs as vessels for basic, evocative declarations. It’s easy enough to shout along, and it’ll pull you in by the second chorus. The hook feels instantly familiar, like you’ve spent your whole life with it, even if you haven’t. “Don’t Stop” is the first Fleetwood Mac song I remember, and I’d say it’s the perfect introduction. Below, Vulture staffers celebrate their favorite contributions from Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. On 1977’s smash Rumours, she penned and performed some of their biggest (“Don’t Stop”) and most indelible songs (“Songbird”), a trend that continued for years, with McVie responsible for the group’s later hits like “Little Lies” and “Everywhere.” McVie faded out of the band in the 1990s, eventually retiring in 1998 due to a phobia of flying - but spent her last years as an official member again after rejoining in 2014. Once she became an official member (she’d infamously married the bassist, John McVie), she asserted herself as one of the group’s core songwriters. Though never as big of a personality as Stevie Nicks or Lindsey Buckingham, the singer, songwriter, and keyboardist was a cornerstone of the group even before she joined the band, playing keys in studio sessions and painting the album art for 1970’s Kiln House. If Fleetwood Mac and “underrated” could somehow go in the same sentence, we’d be talking about Christine McVie, who died on November 30 at 79.
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