A Big 44-Hour Chronological Playlist of Rolling Stones Albums: Stream 613 Tracks

Image by Jim Pietry­ga, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

“Would you let your daugh­ter mar­ry a Rolling Stone?”

From the start, the Rolling Stones were pro­mot­ed as the more debauched, dan­ger­ous alter­na­tive to the Bea­t­les, prompt­ing the above rather-famous tabloid head­line from their first years of fame. The Spo­ti­fy playlist below col­lects a whop­ping 613 tracks from this sem­i­nal rock band, all placed for the most part in chrono­log­i­cal order. (At 44 hours, there’s still whole albums–not major one mind you–missing, due to Spo­ti­fy). The Stones may have been more com­plex than their bad boy image, but they’ve nev­er shrugged it off over their five decades in music, and it’s prob­a­bly too late to stop now.

But it was rough going at the start, wasn’t it? Their first sin­gle was a cov­er of a Chuck Berry song on the A‑side, and a Willie Dixon song on the flip. Their debut album con­tained only three orig­i­nals, with only “Tell Me” stand­ing out from the pack as some­thing oth­er than a car­bon copy. Their sec­ond sin­gle was a song the Bea­t­les gave to them–and even then the Fab Four record­ed a ver­sion of it, unlike the hits they gave to Cil­la Black and oth­ers. Andrew Loog Old­ham was their man­ag­er first and a pro­duc­er sec­ond, not used to the stu­dio at all, and instead of the state-of-the-art Abbey Road stu­dios to play in, the band had Regent Sound stu­dios, with egg car­tons taped to the ceil­ing to baf­fle noise. If this was com­pe­ti­tion against the Bea­t­les, it cer­tain­ly didn’t look good at first.

But despite–or due to–those chal­lenges, the band gained suc­cess and earned respect, start­ing with “(I Can’t Get no) Sat­is­fac­tion” and appear­ances on Ed Sul­li­van and the T.A.M.I. Show, where they actu­al­ly fol­lowed James Brown and weren’t for­got­ten by his­to­ry.

The Stones spent those first years fol­low­ing fash­ion, always one step behind the Bea­t­les, going so far as to offer their own “Satan­ic” ver­sion of the psy­che­del­ic Sgt. Pepper’s. But then, instead of play­ing dev­il­ish dress-up, in May of 1968 they dropped “Jumpin Jack Flash,” which for the first time embod­ies a very real, dan­ger­ous ener­gy. It wasn’t planned. But 1968 was when the Stones took the rock man­tle from their friend­ly rivals. If any band was ready to be the bridge from the hope­ful ‘60s to the grimy ‘70s, it was the Stones.

Their ear­li­er mim­ic­ry of blues and rock’n’roll was one thing, but their amal­gam of rock, blues, and Amer­i­cana on albums like Sticky Fin­gers and Exile on Main Street was some­thing else entire­ly, a spe­cial kind of alche­my that also seemed to tax the entire band–which even­tu­al­ly lost one found­ing mem­ber and shuf­fled through gui­tarists to find Ron Wood.

The late ‘70s and ear­ly ‘80s were an odd time for the band, as their biggest hits then were most unlike their pre­vi­ous hits, dal­ly­ing with dis­co, chan­nel­ing Lou Reed, and set­ting them­selves up for a very con­fused decade. But still! All along the way the Stones kept releas­ing sin­gles that oth­er bands would give their eye teeth for.

The playlist ends with the release of 2016’s Blue and Lone­some, which found them right back where they start­ed: a col­lec­tion of well loved blues cov­ers from Howl­in’ Wolf, Lit­tle Wal­ter, and Willie Dixon. In the end, they brought it all back home.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Rolling Stones Intro­duce Blues­man Howl­in’ Wolf on US TV, One of the “Great­est Cul­tur­al Moments of the 20th Cen­tu­ry” (1965)

Mick Jag­ger Tells the Sto­ry Behind ‘Gimme Shel­ter’ and Mer­ry Clayton’s Haunt­ing Back­ground Vocals

The Rolling Stones Release a Soul­ful, Nev­er-Heard Acoustic Ver­sion of “Wild Hors­es”

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Free, Open Source Modular Synth Software Lets You Create 70s & 80s Electronic Music—Without Having to Pay Thousands for a Real-World Synthesizer

In the past decade or so, the ana­log mod­u­lar synth—of the kind pio­neered by Robert Moog and Don Buch­la—has made a come­back, cre­at­ing a boom­ing niche mar­ket full of musi­cians chas­ing the sounds of the 70s and 80s. These inscrutable racks of patch­bays, oscil­la­tors, fil­ters, etc. look to the non-ini­ti­at­ed more like tele­phone oper­a­tor sta­tions of old than musi­cal instru­ments. But the sounds they pro­duce are sub­lime and oth­er­world­ly, with a sat­u­rat­ed warmth unpar­al­leled in the dig­i­tal world.

But while ana­log tech­nol­o­gy may have per­fect­ed cer­tain tones, one can’t beat the con­ve­nience of dig­i­tal record­ing, with its near­ly unlim­it­ed mul­ti-track­ing capa­bil­i­ty, abil­i­ty to save set­tings, and the ease of edit­ing and arrang­ing in the com­put­er. Dig­i­tal audio work­sta­tions have become increas­ing­ly sophis­ti­cat­ed, able to emu­late with “plug-ins” the capa­bil­i­ties of sought-after ana­log stu­dio gear of the past. It has tak­en a bit longer for vir­tu­al instru­ments to meet this same stan­dard, but they may be near­ly there.

Only the most fine­ly-tuned ears, for exam­ple, can hear the dif­fer­ence between the high­est-qual­i­ty dig­i­tal­ly mod­eled gui­tar ampli­fiers and effects and their real-world coun­ter­parts in the mix. Even the most high-end mod­el­ing pack­ages don’t cost as much as their real life coun­ter­parts, and many also come free in lim­it­ed ver­sions. So too the wealth of ana­log synth soft­ware, mod­eled to sound con­vinc­ing­ly like the old and new­ly reis­sued ana­log box­es that can run into the many thou­sands of dol­lars to col­lect and con­nect.

One such col­lec­tion of synths, the VCV Rack, offers open-source vir­tu­al mod­u­lar synths almost entire­ly free, with only a few at very mod­est prices. The stand­alone vir­tu­al rack works with­out any addi­tion­al soft­ware. Once you’ve cre­at­ed an account and installed it, you can start adding dozens of plug-ins, includ­ing var­i­ous syn­the­siz­ers, gates, reverbs, com­pres­sors, sequencers, key­boards, etc. “It’s pret­ty trans­for­ma­tive stuff,” writes CDM. “You can run vir­tu­al mod­ules to syn­the­size and process sounds, both those emu­lat­ing real hard­ware and many that exist only in soft­ware.”

The learn­ing curve is plen­ty steep for those who haven’t han­dled this per­plex­ing tech­nol­o­gy out­side the box. A series of YouTube tuto­ri­als, a few of which you can see here, can get you going in short order. Those already expe­ri­enced with the real-world stuff will delight in the expand­ed capa­bil­i­ties of the dig­i­tal ver­sions, as well as the fideli­ty with which these plug-ins emu­late real equipment—without the need for a room­ful of cables, unwield­ly racks, and sol­dier­ing irons and spare parts for those inevitable bad con­nec­tions and bro­ken switch­es and inputs.

You can down­load the vir­tu­al rack here, then fol­low the instruc­tions to load as many plug-ins as you like. CDM has instruc­tions for the devel­op­er ver­sion (find the source code here), and a YouTube series called Mod­u­lar Curios­i­ty demon­strates how to install the rack and use the var­i­ous plu­g­ins (see their first video fur­ther up and find the rest here). Mod­u­lar Sys­tem Begin­ner Tuto­r­i­al is anoth­er YouTube guide, with five dif­fer­ent videos. See num­ber one above and the rest here. The longer video at the top of the post offers a “first look and noob tuto­r­i­al.”

VCV Rack is only the lat­est of many vir­tu­al mod­u­lar synths, includ­ing Native Instru­ments’ Reak­tor Blocks and Softube’s Mod­u­lar. “But these come with a hefty price tag,” notes FACT mag­a­zine. “VCV Rack can be down­loaded for free on Lin­ux, Mac and Win­dows plat­form.” And if you’re won­der­ing how it stacks up against the real-life box­es it emu­lates, check out the video below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Moog Syn­the­siz­er Changed the Sound of Music

The Mas­ter­mind of Devo, Mark Moth­ers­baugh, Shows Off His Syn­the­siz­er Col­lec­tion

Hear What Music Sounds Like When It’s Cre­at­ed by Syn­the­siz­ers Made with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

The Health Benefits of Drumming: Less Stress, Lower Blood Pressure, Pain Relief, and Altered States of Consciousness

Drumming—from tablas to tym­pa­ni to djembes—is uni­ver­sal, so much so, says author Say­er Ji, that it seems “hard-wired into our bio­log­i­cal, social and spir­i­tu­al DNA.” Drum­ming may well be “an inborn capac­i­ty and arche­typ­al social activ­i­ty.” But many mod­ern peo­ple have become alien­at­ed from the drum. We out­source drum­ming to pro­fes­sion­als, and machines. Neu­ro­sci­en­tists the­o­rize that drum­mers may have dif­fer­ent brains than “non-drummers”—findings that sug­gest the activ­i­ty is con­fined to spe­cial­ly-designed peo­ple. Not so, say many sci­en­tists who believe that “drum­ming has some pro­found and holis­tic uses,” as Luke Sumpter writes at Reset.me, “to enhance phys­i­cal, men­tal and emo­tion­al health.”

In addi­tion to anthro­po­log­i­cal evi­dence not­ing the cen­tral­i­ty of drum­ming to human cul­ture, abun­dant research has demon­strat­ed its poten­tial for per­son­al heal­ing. While drum ther­a­py may be noth­ing new for cul­tures who have retained the prac­tice, those who haven’t can learn group drum­ming eas­i­ly enough with teach­ers like Peter Mari­no in the short clip above. The ben­e­fits, as stud­ies have shown, include reduced stress and increased immu­ni­ty. Group drum­ming may reduce anx­i­ety and blood pres­sure, it may work as pain relief and boost pos­i­tive emo­tions, and may even lead to “improved exec­u­tive func­tion” and a growth in white mat­ter in the brains of patients with Huntington’s dis­ease and oth­er neu­ro­log­i­cal con­di­tions.

The evi­dence-based approach to group drumming’s socio-phys­i­cal ben­e­fits should sway skep­tics, even those like­ly to see drum cir­cle ther­a­py as some kind of hip­py-dip­py woo. Sci­ence-mind­ed peo­ple with­out such hangups may also take an inter­est in stud­ies of drum­ming as a “shaman­ic” activ­i­ty that “induces spe­cif­ic sub­jec­tive expe­ri­ences.” As Michael Drake reports, one recent study “demon­strates that even a brief drum­ming ses­sion can dou­ble alpha brain wave activ­i­ty,” which is “asso­ci­at­ed with med­i­ta­tion, shaman­ic trance, and inte­gra­tive modes of con­scious­ness.” Drum­ming with oth­ers “pro­duces greater self-aware­ness” as well as a sense of inter­con­nect­ed­ness, and can strength­en social bonds among adults as well as chil­dren.

While much of the writ­ing about group drum­ming as ther­a­py stress­es more intan­gi­ble, mys­ti­cal ben­e­fits, no small amount of data sug­gests that the phys­i­cal effects are mea­sur­able and sig­nif­i­cant. This is not to min­i­mize the musi­cal prowess of your favorite drum­mers, or to belit­tle the musi­cal val­ue of machine-made beats. But the research strong­ly sug­gests that not only is most every­one able to pick up a drum and get into a groove, but also that most every­one who does so will be hap­pi­er, health­i­er, and more peace­ful and tuned-in.

via Reset

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Neu­ro­science of Drum­ming: Researchers Dis­cov­er the Secrets of Drum­ming & The Human Brain

Play­ing an Instru­ment Is a Great Work­out For Your Brain: New Ani­ma­tion Explains Why

Iso­lat­ed Drum Tracks From Six of Rock’s Great­est: Bon­ham, Moon, Peart, Copeland, Grohl & Starr

Bri­an Eno Lists the Ben­e­fits of Singing: A Long Life, Increased Intel­li­gence, and a Sound Civ­i­liza­tion

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

Woody Guthrie Creates a Doodle-Filled List of 33 New Year’s Resolutions (1943): Beat Fascism, Write a Song a Day, and Keep the Hoping Machine Running

On Jan­u­ary 1, 1943, the Amer­i­can folk music leg­end Woody Guthrie jot­ted in his jour­nal a list of 33 “New Years Rulin’s.” Nowa­days, we’d call them New Year’s Res­o­lu­tions. Adorned by doo­dles, the list is down to earth by any mea­sure. Fam­i­ly, song, tak­ing a polit­i­cal stand, per­son­al hygiene — they’re the val­ues or aspi­ra­tions that top his list. You can click the image above to view the list in a larg­er for­mat. Below, we have pro­vid­ed a tran­script of Guthrie’s Rulin’s.

1. Work more and bet­ter
2. Work by a sched­ule
3. Wash teeth if any
4. Shave
5. Take bath
6. Eat good — fruit — veg­eta­bles — milk
7. Drink very scant if any
8. Write a song a day
9. Wear clean clothes — look good
10. Shine shoes
11. Change socks
12. Change bed cloths often
13. Read lots good books
14. Lis­ten to radio a lot
15. Learn peo­ple bet­ter
16. Keep ran­cho clean
17. Dont get lone­some
18. Stay glad
19. Keep hop­ing machine run­ning
20. Dream good
21. Bank all extra mon­ey
22. Save dough
23. Have com­pa­ny but dont waste time
24. Send Mary and kids mon­ey
25. Play and sing good
26. Dance bet­ter
27. Help win war — beat fas­cism
28. Love mama
29. Love papa
30. Love Pete
31. Love every­body
32. Make up your mind
33. Wake up and fight

We wish you all a hap­py 2018.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book and BlueSky.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Note: This fine list orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site back in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er­ful Mes­sages That Woody Guthrie & Pete Seeger Inscribed on Their Gui­tar & Ban­jo: “This Machine Kills Fas­cists” and “This Machine Sur­rounds Hate and Forces it to Sur­ren­der”

Hear Two Leg­ends, Lead Bel­ly & Woody Guthrie, Per­form­ing on the Same Radio Show (1940)

Woody Guthrie’s Fan Let­ter To John Cage and Alan Hov­haness (1947)

Seeger: To Hear Your Ban­jo Play

The Alan Lomax Sound Archive Now Online: Fea­tures 17,000 Record­ings

Ian McKellen Recites Shakespeare’s Sonnet 20, Backed by Garage Rock Band, the Fleshtones, on Andy Warhol’s MTV Variety Show (1987)

80s revival­ism can be done bad­ly and it can be done well. Those old enough to remem­ber the decade seem best placed to recre­ate it, but the suc­cess of Stranger Things offers an excel­lent coun­terex­am­ple. The mil­len­ni­al Duf­fer broth­ers did a mar­velous job of con­jur­ing the look and feel of mid-80s mise-en-scène by stitch­ing togeth­er close view­ings of a dozen or so films—from the mas­sive­ly pop­u­lar E.T. to more obscure flicks like made-for-TV Mazes and Mon­sters (not to men­tion such pre­cious archival footage as this.)

When it comes to music how­ev­er, 80s retro tends to con­fine them­selves to ear­ly hip and hop and elec­tro, the syn­th­pop of Gary Numan and Duran Duran or the cheesy hair met­al of Möt­ley Crüe. But this lens miss­es the sig­nif­i­cant 60s revival­ism that emerged at the time. Garage, surf, and psych rock and the jan­g­ly sounds of The Byrds inspired R.E.M., the B52s, the Replace­ments, the House of Love, and the Flesh­tones, a much less­er-known NYC band who may nev­er have got­ten their com­mer­cial due, but who cer­tain­ly appealed to 60s art star Andy Warhol.

When Warhol remade him­self as a TV per­son­al­i­ty in the 80s with his MTV vari­ety show Andy Warhol’s 15 Min­utes he cast the Flesh­tones as the back­ing band for ris­ing the­ater and film star Ian McK­ellen, a match-up that rep­re­sents anoth­er hall­mark of 80s pop culture—the post­mod­ern jux­ta­po­si­tion of gen­res, styles, and reg­is­ters which Warhol helped pio­neer 20 years ear­li­er when he brought kitschy silk-screened soup cans, sexy street hus­tlers, and the Vel­vet Under­ground into the art scene.

Warhol’s tele­vi­sion work turned this impulse into a mul­ti­me­dia cir­cus fea­tur­ing “The high and the low. The rich and the famous. The strug­gling artists and the ris­ing stars,” as Warhol Muse­um cura­tor Ger­a­lyn Hux­ley puts it. In this par­tic­u­lar­ly fit­ting exam­ple, McK­ellen and the Flesh­tones bring Shake­speare’s racy Son­net 20 to young, hip MTV audi­ences in 1987. L.A. Week­ly lists a few of the “cool points” from the clip:

  • A young, hot, already insane­ly tal­ent­ed Ian McK­ellen
  • Wear­ing awe­some New Wave fash­ions
  • At Andy Warhol’s Fac­to­ry in 1987
  • Backed by cult group the Flesh­tones
  • Recit­ing a Shake­speare Son­net

What’s not to love? Start your 2018 with some Shake­speare-meets-garage-rock cool­ness from 31 years ago—and revis­it more of Warhol’s MTV vari­ety show at our pre­vi­ous post. For seri­ous stu­dents of the decade, this is essen­tial view­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Andy Warhol’s 15 Min­utes: Dis­cov­er the Post­mod­ern MTV Vari­ety Show That Made Warhol a Star in the Tele­vi­sion Age (1985–87)

Ian McK­ellen Reads a Pas­sion­ate Speech by William Shake­speare, Writ­ten in Defense of Immi­grants

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Hear Lou Reed’s The Raven, a Tribute to Edgar Allan Poe Featuring David Bowie, Ornette Coleman, Willem Dafoe & More

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It’s not imme­di­ate­ly appar­ent that Lou Reed and Edgar Allan Poe would have that much in com­mon. It’s true Reed inher­it­ed a goth­ic sen­si­bil­i­ty (though one could argue that this ele­ment in the Vel­vet Under­ground came main­ly from Nico and John Cale), and he worked in a self-con­scious­ly lit­er­ary vein. But in almost every oth­er respect, he spoke a total­ly dif­fer­ent idiom. Drawn to the seedy bars and street cor­ners rather than the great hous­es, lab­o­ra­to­ries, and scholar’s nooks of Poe, Reed inclined his ear toward the com­mon tongue, in con­trast to Poe’s care­ful­ly com­posed Roman­tic dic­tion.

But while it’s hard to imag­ine Poe think­ing much of Reed’s rock and roll, the themes of sex­u­al obses­sion, mad­ness, ter­ror, and mor­bid reflec­tion that Poe brought into promi­nence seem to find their fruition over 100 years lat­er in the work of the Vel­vets (and the thou­sands of post-punk bands they inspired), and in much of Reed’s sub­se­quent solo work—up to his final album, the crit­i­cal­ly-reviled Lulu with Metal­li­ca, which his long­time part­ner Lau­rie Ander­son declared full of “fear and rage and ven­om and ter­ror and revenge and love,” and which David Bowie pro­nounced a “mas­ter­piece.”

While we know where much of Reed’s per­son­al angst came from, we can also hear—in the vivid shock of his imagery and the extrem­i­ty of his emotions—the echo of Poe’s crazed pro­tag­o­nists. Leave it to Reed, then, to take on the task of inter­pret­ing Poe in the 21st cen­tu­ry, in his 2003 album, The Raven, a col­lec­tion of Poe-themed musi­cal pieces (“This is the sto­ry of Edgar Allan Poe / Not exact­ly the boy next door”), with such col­lab­o­ra­tors as Ander­son, Bowie, Ornette Cole­man, the Blind Boys of Alaba­ma, Antony, Eliz­a­beth Ash­ley, and Willem Dafoe, who reads a Reed-adapt­ed ver­sion of the poem at the top (track 9 in the album below), over a video trib­ute to B hor­ror actress Deb­bie Rochon (for some rea­son).

What did Reed seek to accom­plish with this con­cep­tu­al project? As he him­self writes in the lin­er notes, “I have reread and rewrit­ten Poe to ask the same ques­tions again. Who am I? Why am I drawn to do what I should not?… Why do we love what we can­not have? Why do we have a pas­sion for exact­ly the wrong thing?” These are time­less philo­soph­i­cal ques­tions, indeed, which tran­scend mat­ters of style and genre. Again and again, both Poe and Reed pur­sued them into the dark­est recess­es of the human psyche—the places most of us fear to go. And per­haps for that rea­son espe­cial­ly, we are pere­nial­ly drawn back to their work.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Raven: a Pop-up Book Brings Edgar Allan Poe’s Clas­sic Super­nat­ur­al Poem to 3D Paper Life

Famous Edgar Allan Poe Sto­ries Read by Iggy Pop, Jeff Buck­ley, Christo­pher Walken, Mar­i­anne Faith­ful & More

Meet the Char­ac­ters Immor­tal­ized in Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side”: The Stars and Gay Rights Icons from Andy Warhol’s Fac­to­ry Scene

Edgar Allan Poe’s the Raven: Watch an Award-Win­ning Short Film That Mod­ern­izes Poe’s Clas­sic Tale

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

How Fleetwood Mac Makes A Song: A Video Essay Exploring the “Sonic Paintings” on the Classic Album, Rumours

Pret­ty much every­one with a pass­ing famil­iar­i­ty with Fleet­wood Mac knows at least a lit­tle some­thing about the per­son­al tumult behind their land­mark 1977 album Rumours: it’s one of rock’s most famous soap operas,” writes Jor­dan Run­tagh at Rolling Stone. Chris­tine McVie put it even more suc­cinct­ly— “Dra­ma. Dra-ma.”

But isn’t this how great songs get writ­ten, as we find out when we read the auto­bi­ogra­phies and inter­views of great song­writ­ers, who sub­li­mate their per­son­al ups and downs in lyrics that touch the emo­tion­al lives of mil­lions? The saga of Fleet­wood Mac just hap­pens to be a par­tic­u­lar­ly juicy exam­ple, giv­en that the band mem­bers’ roman­tic anguish most­ly came from failed rela­tion­ships with each oth­er.

The tale will for­ev­er be a cau­tion­ary one for musi­cians, though it’s hard­ly much of a deter­rent. Just lis­ten to those songs! But as Evan Puschak—otherwise known as video essay­ist the Nerdwriter—shows above, it takes a lot more than a bad breakup with the gui­tar play­er to make time­less pop art. Rumours “feels alive, months and years and decades after its cre­ation.” It’s so much more than the sum of its parts, even if those parts are rare and indis­pens­able: the con­sid­er­able musi­cian­ship on dis­play, the song­writ­ing expe­ri­ence, and espe­cial­ly the “vir­tu­al­ly unlim­it­ed bud­get and time” Warn­er Broth­ers allot­ted the band.

Such extrav­a­gance is vir­tu­al­ly impos­si­ble for any­one else to come by. Still, noodling indef­i­nite­ly with fan­cy instru­ments and equip­ment does not a great album make. Puschak takes Ste­vie Nicks’ “Dreams” as an exam­ple of how the band excelled in the stu­dio. Writ­ten “in about 10 min­utes,” as Nicks tells it, while she sat in a “big black-vel­vet bed with Vic­to­ri­an drapes” in a stu­dio belong­ing to Sly Stone, the song’s stu­dio ver­sion shows off the lush, lay­ered pro­duc­tion the band spent the bet­ter part of a year bring­ing to her two-chord demo.

“Dreams”—one of the most mes­mer­iz­ing songs in the band’s canon—acquired its hyp­not­ic qual­i­ties through the use of a looped drum pat­tern, puls­ing, repet­i­tive bassline, and the sub­tle col­oration of gui­tar tex­tures that give the decep­tive­ly sim­ple song its ebb and flow.

The sto­ry of Rumours is as much about fan­tas­tic songcraft, musi­cian­ship, arrang­ing, and pro­duc­tion as it is about tri­umph over the human resources night­mare behind the scenes. The per­son­al inspi­ra­tion for these songs makes for good gos­sip, but these are not life events any­one needs to emu­late to make art. Fleet­wood Mac’s col­lec­tive inven­tive­ness, emo­tion­al hon­esty, and skill are what ulti­mate­ly make them such an inspi­ra­tion to musi­cians, and cre­ative types in gen­er­al. For anoth­er exam­ple of how they built the archi­tec­tur­al mar­vels on Rumours, see the short take above from Poly­phon­ic about the album’s mood­i­est song, “The Chain.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ste­vie Nicks “Shows Us How to Kick Ass in High-Heeled Boots” in a 1983 Women’s Self Defense Man­u­al

Watch Doc­u­men­taries on the Mak­ing of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here

Inside the Mak­ing of The Bea­t­les’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lone­ly Heart’s Club Band, Rock’s Great Con­cept Album

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Stream a Playlist of 79 Punk Rock Christmas Songs: The Ramones, The Damned, Bad Religion & More

There’s a war on Christ­mas, don’t you know. The attacks are relentless—at every shop­ping mall, drug­store, gro­cery, fam­i­ly din­ner, bad­ly-lit office par­ty. It is the scourge of bland Christ­mas music, and it can absolute­ly ruin your hol­i­day. There you are, mer­ri­ly shop­ping for the per­fect gift or the per­fect ham, and, wham! The most dispir­it­ing ver­sion of “Lit­tle Drum­mer Boy” you’ve ever heard in your life. You feel sick, depressed, deranged. Is this some kind of son­ic weapon? Or do you respect the sea­son too much to let it be demeaned by medi­oc­rity?

Fight back, my friend, with the playlist below. Keep your Christ­mas cheer—if that’s your bag. The dis­crim­i­nat­ing Yule­tide cel­e­brant must guard their ears zeal­ous­ly, lest some undead zom­bie trav­es­ty of a “White Christ­mas” (or worse yet, “Blue Christ­mas”) does them in. Opt instead for the sim­ple cel­e­bra­tion of the Ramones’ “Mer­ry Christ­mas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight).” Lis­ten to the Damned. You don’t have to believe in San­ta Claus, but you know “There Ain’t No San­i­ty Clause.”

The Van­dals keep it mov­ing with “My First X‑Mas (As A Woman),” a straight-ahead burst of pos­i­tiv­i­ty, empow­er­ment, and com­ing out as trans to the fam­i­ly. They return lat­er with “Grandpa’s Last X‑Mas,” an hon­est reck­on­ing with mor­tal­i­ty dur­ing the sea­son. Check out the earnest ren­di­tion of “O Come All Ye Faith­ful” from Bad Reli­gion, who clear­ly adore the song enough to real­ly do it jus­tice, even if many of their usu­al lyrics can be summed up by swap­ping the words in their name. (They put out a whole album of respect­ful Christ­mas tunes. “Any­one expect­ing some sort of sub­ver­sion of the hol­i­day clas­sics,” notes Apple Music, “will be dis­ap­point­ed.”)

As this playlist shows, punk rock has always had a spe­cial rela­tion­ship with Christ­mas. But if you think about it, so have many indie, fringe, and avant-garde move­ments. John Waters believes the “whole pur­pose of life is Christ­mas.” Andy Warhol “real­ly, real­ly loved Christ­mas,” and made sev­er­al Christ­mas-themed art­works. And in 1977, the Sex Pis­tols played their last UK gig, a Christ­mas ben­e­fit for an audi­ence of sev­en and eight year olds. John­ny Rot­ten remem­bered it lat­er as “one of the high­lights of mine and Sid’s career.”

Fan­tas­tic. The ulti­mate reward. One of my all-time favourite gigs. Young kids, and we’re doing Bod­ies and they’re burst­ing out with laugh­ter on the ‘f*ck this f*ck that’ verse. The cor­rect response: not the shock hor­ror ‘How dare you?’

The kids get it, why can’t we? Christ­mas is a fine time for irrev­er­ence, camp, crude humor, booze, and can­dor. It is also a time for the heart­felt appre­ci­a­tion most punks seem to feel for the hol­i­day of light shows and inflat­able rein­deer, of a crack­ling fire on TV and a place that does deliv­ery. San­ta Claus, the Holy Baby, and Grem­lins. Stuck with rel­a­tives who can’t get the spir­it of giv­ing? Put on “Bloody Unholy Christ­mas,” “I’ve Got a Bon­er for Christ­mas,” and “Cred­it Crunch Christ­mas,” and turn them all the way up. And have a very Mer­ry Christ­mas and Hap­py Hol­i­days.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stream 22 Hours of Funky, Rock­ing & Swing­ing Christ­mas Albums: From James Brown and John­ny Cash to Christo­pher Lee & The Ven­tures

David Bowie & Bing Cros­by Sing “The Lit­tle Drum­mer Boy”: A Won­der­ful Christ­mas Chest­nut from 1977

John Waters Makes Hand­made Christ­mas Cards, Says the “Whole Pur­pose of Life is Christ­mas”

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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