What do Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and deposed rock goddess Courtney Love have in common? A deep, abiding love for iconic, embattled Fleetwood Mac, a rock institution whose various hits—"Gypsy," "Don't Stop," "Go Your Own Way," and so on—seem to represent, given hindsight, '60s countercultural adventurers' bittersweet attempts to forego partying hard and catting about in favor of straight-world monogamy. The surface placidity of the band's fundamentally Californian aesthetic—tread-milling rhythms often powered by cowbells, ever-present winding bougainvillea guitars, husky, mouthwatering vocals courtesy of Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie—is at odds with all the behind-the-scenes turmoil that's fueled so many biographies. Now they're back to soft-hump the town, minus Christine, and give your parents a reason to elbow you away from the computer en route to reserving seats on Ticketmaster.... More >>>