top of page
Writer's pictureMatt Fogelson

Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs"



Music, of course, is an emotionally charged medium. We all know that. It’s why we love it. It helps us understand, express, and wrestle with the swirling emotions that plague, or, depending on context, delight us.


But rarely, if ever, is the catalyst for those emotions, the muse inherent in the music whose presence is felt viscerally but never seen, made visible on stage. When it is, it takes the music to an exhilarating new emotional plane.


Enter Fleetwood Mac’s 1997 performance of “Silver Springs,” Stevie Nicks’ ode to the fiery crucible of her and guitarist Lindsey Buckingham’s former relationship—the duo’s romantic history is itself the stuff of classic rock lore. And although the performance is somewhat dated, it’s no less charged for the passage of time.


“Silver Springs” was written by Nicks for the band’s 1977 album, Rumours, but didn’t make the cut. It was released as a B-side to “Go Your Own Way,” and remained in relative obscurity until it was re-released on the band’s 1997 live album, The Dance.


A friend recently turned me on to this performance and I’ve been obsessively watching it for several weeks now. I particularly recommend it to anyone currently working through anger issues.


At the beginning of the first chorus (at the 2:38 mark), Nicks glares across the stage at Buckingham, admonishing him, “Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me.” This is but a fleeting hint of the fury to be unleashed in the final chorus (beginning at the 4:25 mark) as Nicks stares him down, her eyes wide circles of fire, excoriating him, “I’ll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you/You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you,” twice interjecting the question “Was I just a fool?” which doesn’t seem rhetorical, she wants him to answer, culminating (at the 4:59 mark) by repeating “Never get away” three times in clipped, quick succession, her voice straining, her head shaking ever so slightly, the neck muscles constricted, as if to keep her head from detaching from her body. It is stunning.  


Don’t get me wrong—“Silver Springs” is a great song that stands on its own. But there’s something about physically seeing the object of the song’s venom standing there, taking it in, perhaps reflecting it back, perhaps indifferent to it, perhaps cowed by it, but present for it, that is both chilling and cathartic. I find myself exhaling after I watch the performance, a little less on edge, a little more present in my own life.

     

Comments


bottom of page