I arrived at my seat wearing a fur cape and a newly acquired Fleetwood Mac baseball cap, beer in hand, channeling my inner Miss Nicks, ready to kick it old school to one of the greatest bands in the history of music. The last bit of that previous statement is indisputable; it’s a fact. Little did I know they were about to prove just how iconic they truly are. The second they took the stage and started to play the unmistakable first chords of “The Chain” it hit me that there was more magic in that room than at every circus and children’s birthday party in the entire world, ever. I have never in my life seen so many different people, spanning in age from adolescence to old-enough-to-walk-with-a-cane, light up all at once. I don’t mean that in the traditional concert sense, with lighters or cell phones, I mean peoples’ souls lit up.
The fact that they opened the show with four songs off of Rumours (“The Chain,” “You Make Loving Fun,” “Dreams” and “Second Hand News”) was enough for me to pack my shit up and go home satisfied but they continued to deliver. At one point I had to go pee, and you better believe I ran to the bathroom, and upon realizing my stall was out of toilet paper I asked the lady next to me if she could spare some. She kindly obliged and cheerily added something about how Tusk was a safe song for a bathroom break. I thought, “Hello? There is no’safe song’” and I ran back.
The members of Fleetwood Mac were in visibly good spirits all through the night, laughing and joking with each other, praising each other and even taking little moments to hug and kiss each other. Some of the most notable moments: Stevie’s insane gypsy fashion — which she told a short story about right before singing “Gypsy.” Something about dreaming about shopping at the Velvet Underground store when she was young and broke and harboring a burning desire to channel her inner Janice Joplin and Grace Slick — which was on point as ever. From her various glittery scarves (she wore a gold one during “Gold Dust Woman”! Like…!) to her top hat to her fingerless leather gloves, not to mention her graceful gypsy dance moves. Mick Fleetwood’s energy! The dude is three times my age and did the most epic, ridiculous drum solo I have ever seen, which should be YouTube searched immediately if not sooner. Everything, from the lighting to the melodies to the energy coming from them as a group and as individual artists was perfect.
Guitarist Lindsey Buckingham gave a nice welcoming introduction to Christine McVie for those who were unaware that it was a huge deal that she was even there at all. Buckingham called her return “poetic and prolific.” McVie hadn’t performed with Fleetwood Mac for over 15 years, as Stevie Nicks mentioned again towards the end of the show. Nicks stated that she truly believed it was the “collective energy” of the fans that brought her back, that one morning we must have all been putting that one same thought into the universe and that Christine received the message loud and clear. As Miss Nicks said, “We all know that whatever we ask from the universe, we receive.” I don’t know if that really works, but if the Fairy Godmother of This Galaxy says it does, then I believe her.
They ended with “Go Your Own Way,” which may have been an obvious choice but still one I appreciated the humor in, whether that was intentional or not. There were two encores, the last of which was just Christine sitting at her piano performing “Songbird.” I can’t say I didn’t cry a little. I can’t say I didn’t cry a lot. It truly was one of the most breathtaking moments of my life so far. The image of the spotlight focused just on her and all the aforementioned lighters and cell phones lighting up the Bell Center will forever be etched in my memory.
Stevie told us to never give up on our dreams, Mick told us to remember that the Mac is definitely back. But as they took their final bows I wondered if they were aware that they had never really left at all; not our minds, not our hearts and certainly not our ears. Hopefully they’ll be with us for forty more years to come.
Celina Flores / Montreal Rampage / Sunday, February 8, 2015