
- #Fleetwood mac tusk video with usc marching band full
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Ī contingent of the band has performed at every USC football game, home and away, since 1987. presidents, at the Summer Olympics, and on the Academy Awards, Grammy Awards, and the season 7 finale of American Idol. In addition, the band has performed for five U.S. The group has performed with numerous celebrities including John Williams, Michael Jackson, Diana Ross, Radiohead, Beyoncé, Doc Severinsen, George Clinton, Fleetwood Mac, The Three Tenors, John Dolmayan, Shavo Odadjian, Odesza, and The Offspring. The Spirit of Troy is the only collegiate band to have two platinum records. The album probably has five too many songs, and a handful of tracks are two minutes too long, but that’s the cost of this kind of genius: excess, bombast, hubris, getting carried away.The USC Trojan Marching Band, also known as the Spirit of Troy, represents the University of Southern California (USC) at various collegiate sports, broadcast, popular music recording, and national public appearance functions. It is where obsessive artistic control circles around into raggedness, where chaos and order dance together in a cloud of whirling scarves. (“Beautiful Child,” in particular, will haunt you all the way to the terminal buttons of your neurons.) The defining tension of “Tusk” is perfection versus destruction, gloss versus mess - the lure of soft rock versus the barb of art rock. It contains many of Fleetwood Mac’s greatest nonsingles (“What Makes You Think You’re the One,” “Save Me a Place,” “Storms,” “That’s All for Everyone”), as well as some of the most powerful transmissions ever received from the astral plane occupied by Stevie Nicks.
#Fleetwood mac tusk video with usc marching band full
“Tusk,” by contrast, is full of air the songs are swollen with atmosphere. This is the defiant heroism of “Tusk.” “Rumours” is one of the most immaculate products in the history of American pop - every song a potential hit, every moment airtight.
#Fleetwood mac tusk video with usc marching band crack
(Despite this, the single versions of “Tusk” and “Sara” did manage to crack the Top 10.) It was as uncommercial as an essentially commercial enterprise could ever make itself sound. The result was a double LP, almost twice as long as “Rumours,” that produced zero No. “Tusk” cost more than $1 million to make - the most expensive record ever, at the time - and took 13 months to record. marching band to record the title track - an infectious riff that Buckingham distilled into a three-minute oddity so strange it seemed to actively sabotage any chance the song might have had to become a breakout hit. (He thought this would create a more “aggressive” sound.) Famously, the band rented Dodger Stadium and employed the 120-piece U.S.C. All of the non-Buckinghams sat around idly, inhaling hillocks of cocaine, losing track of time, while Buckingham futzed around with tape speeds and lay on the ground singing countless takes of backing vocals into a microphone taped to the floor. His obsessiveness during the recording alienated everyone. Some of the songs were recorded in Buckingham’s home studio, where he had a setup that allowed him to play drums while sitting on the toilet.

He was less the band’s guitarist than a one-man band whose instruments happened to include all of his bandmates. The hero (or villain) of “Tusk,” the organizing intelligence behind everything, was Lindsey Buckingham. Everyone (including most of the band itself) was expecting the next album to be “Rumours II”: 40 more lucrative minutes of “Go Your Own Way” and “Dreams” and “Don’t Stop” and “You Make Loving Fun.” 1 and made Fleetwood Mac the world’s biggest band, the very definition of commercial rock. “Tusk” was Fleetwood Mac’s follow-up to the 1977 megahit “Rumours,” the exquisitely engineered soft-rock juggernaut that went platinum 20 times over, spent 31 weeks at No. It ends not with a gentle fade-out but with a kind of goat-bleat from Stevie Nicks, followed by some gratuitous drum patter. You can practically hear the record executives shrieking in the background. It sounds as if it were recorded live on a whaling ship in heavy seas. The band’s signature vocals are buried in the mix, roughed up, uglified there are chants, whispers, moans and shouts.



“The Ledge” is a noisy, bouncing fuzz-monster that makes no kind of sense in the universe of mainstream ’70s radio pop. Fleetwood Mac shoves the glimmering Crystal Palace of Soft Rock - and along with it, the band’s whole multiplatinum, radio-friendly sound - directly off a steep and treacherous cliff, at the bottom of which it crashes into 32,000 jagged pieces. And this is exactly what the album suddenly does. “Over & Over” fades out on a liquid guitar solo ( we can rock, Fleetwood Mac will have you know, but we’re not going to burden you with too much of it), and into the vacancy steps a song called “The Ledge.” As in, a thing to fall off.
