“Now, when I talked to God, I knew he’d understand/He said, ‘Stick by me and I’ll be your guiding hand/But don’t ask me what I think of you, I might not give the answer that you want me to.’”
Fleetwood Mac’s “Oh Well” came out in 1969, a month after Woodstock. But Peter Green’s lyrics are particularly scathing in 2020, considering the amount of religious Americans who gleefully support a malevolent hedonist atheist. “Oh Well” encapsulates why Green was one of the most revered musicians of the last half-century. His rockabilly riffs are as cutting as the lyrics, a nod to the recent past, while Danny Kirwan’s melodic lightning strike leads signal the near future, as the hard rock/heavy metal ‘70s were only four months away. That Green had Kirwan dominate the song in the first place showed how magnanimous he could be, typical for someone who decided to name his band after the rhythm section.
What takes “Oh Well” to a level of exhilarating menace was the decision to have Mick Fleetwood’s drums come pummeling in a minute into the song. The tribal rhythms provide additional heft, combining with Kirwan’s Gibson Les Paul vehemence to counter the laid-back insouciance of Green’s singing and the song’s title.
Rage then fades into lonesome solemnity, as Green’s classical guitar emerges, creating a completely different atmosphere. You expect to hear Leonard Cohen dreamily reminiscing about a lost love. Instead, electric guitar, bass, cello, timpani, and clash cymbals, all performed by Green, as well as piano and recorder, conjure up a desolate Sergio Leone/Ennio Morricone landscape. Morricone, who died a few weeks before Green, was perhaps the greatest composer in the history of cinema. With the second half of “Oh Well,” Green, a Jewish blues guitarist from East London, ascended to his level.
ZZ Top paid homage to the first half of “Oh Well” on 1972’s “Just Got Paid.” AC/DC did the same with 1979’s “Beating Around the Bush.” Even guitarist-vocalist-songwriter Bob Welch, who joined Fleetwood Mac in 1971, a year after Green left, contributed his own variation of “Oh Well” with 1976’s “Religion,” from his power trio Paris. Unlike the others, it’s pure avant-garde sleaziness, uniting Sunset Strip hard rock with the dissonant no wave sound droning out of New York City around that time.
The 1971 masterpiece Led Zeppelin IV features two songs that have “Oh Well” in its DNA, “Black Dog,” with its similar stop and start verses, and the percussion nirvana of “Four Sticks.” Bassist-keyboardist John Paul Jones, who wrote the main riff to “Black Dog,” would go on to co-produce the 1993 Butthole Surfers album Independent Worm Saloon. The single “Who Was in My Room Last Night?” uses the melody of “Oh Well” as the main hook. “Oh Well” even had an effect on one of the best power pop acts of the ‘80s. In 2014, Rick Springfield published his novel Magnificent Vibration, about a man who can reach God on his cell phone. Appropriately enough, when he promoted it at bookstores, Springfield performed “Oh Well,” which his band Zoot had played live frequently back in the early ‘70s.
Green, however, was more than just one song. Much of his material, in particular 1969’s “Before the Beginning” and 1968’s “Black Magic Woman,” appear to exist in a unique dream world made up of ‘40s film noir, ‘50s blues and ‘60s psychedelia. (The latter song begins with Green’s guitar materializing like an apparition.) They all have in common a sonic and visual haziness that presumably Green picked up on. Descendants of this specific sound and vision include Little Barrie’s theme to Better Call Saul and much of David Lynch’s oeuvre. (Green would’ve been an ideal performer for the Roadhouse on Twin Peaks.)
“If music be the food of love, play on.” Green’s farewell with Fleetwood Mac, 1969’s Then Play On, was titled after the opening line of Twelfth Night. Once again, Green connects seemingly disparate elements, in this case Shakespeare and ‘50s doo-wop, likely noticing that they shared a grand romanticism. On the ballad “Closing My Eyes,” he channels the crooners of the early rock’n’roll era, while anticipating the Smiths. Not only does Green sound like Morrissey, but the first lyric, “Now it’s the same as before, and I’m alone again,” is the defining sentiment of Morrissey’s writing.
Before forming Fleetwood Mac, Green was in John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers, his tenure bookended by Eric Clapton and future Rolling Stone Mick Taylor. There’s pressure-filled gigs and then there’s replacing a musician who was just starting to be referred to as “God.” Clapton had a brief yet historic run with Mayall, but so did Green, who was subsequently known as “The Green God.” The zealotry was justified. Setting the tone for what was to come, the 1967 instrumental “The Supernatural” radiates the sensuality and fury of a monochrome femme fatale.
The following year, Mayall released the solo album Blues from Laurel Canyon. Green, who by now had a more fanatical following than his one-time boss, guested on “First Time Alone.” At a time when the guitar had only recently become associated with volume, Green’s solo has a quiet, luminous, regal beauty. The guitar is mixed so low, it sounds remote, bringing to mind distant headlights shining through midnight fog.
The distinctive, sublime sound of “The Green God” kept attracting converts, prominent among them the Beatles. During a 1969 interview, right after the release of Abbey Road, John Lennon described “Sun King” to a London DJ, “That’s where we pretend to be Fleetwood Mac for a few minutes.” He was referring to Mac’s majestically sorrowful instrumental “Albatross,” which had come out the year before. The Lennon-penned “Sun King” emulates the meditative blues of Green, while adding swirly psych guitar and celestial vocals, sounding like a forerunner to The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd, released four years later. The result is a cathartic ambiance that still comes off as sinister.
In general, you can hear traces of Green in the music the Beatles recorded throughout the end of the ‘60s. Lennon’s lead guitar on “Get Back” and “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” as well as George Harrison’s solos on “Dig a Pony” and “Come Together” possess the slinky splendor of Green’s work, but on a more primitive level. And “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” is even a blues/jazz/proto-metal tale of obsession, a Peter Green trademark.
The nocturnal metropolitan ambience of ‘70s Aerosmith owes a great deal to early Fleetwood Mac and late Beatles. They made that connection explicit by using the Then Play On two-part jam “Fighting for Madge”/”Searching for Madge” as a foundation for the rave-up sections of 1974’s “Woman of the World” and “Rats in the Cellar” two years later. In addition, they’ve been covering “Rattlesnake Shake,” also from Then Play On, since they started, and routinely perform 1968’s “Stop Messin’ Round.”
The same year Aerosmith came out with “Woman of the World,” UFO released “Lipstick Traces.” The title alone signifying loss, the melancholy instrumental has guitarist Michael Schenker doing his best attempt at a Peter Green ballad, who in turn was doing his best B.B. King and Santo & Johnny. An “Albatross”/”Sleepwalk” in the age of Dazed and Confused, you picture denim-covered couples with matching feathered hair slow dancing to it at a hard rock/heavy metal sock hop.
Due to schizophrenia brought on by drug use, Green essentially disappeared in the ‘70s. Other than a couple of singles early in the decade, he bookended the ‘70s with his only full-length releases, 1970’s The End of the Game and 1979’s In the Skies. In between, he existed as a spectre. The sad irony is Green was a living casualty in a dynamic world he helped create.
The ‘70s (and beyond) wouldn’t have been the same without him. Aside from all the acts that were previously mentioned, Santana honored one of their biggest inspirations with the hit 1970 cover of “Black Magic Woman.” Keyboardist-vocalist Gregg Rolie seemed to base his nonchalant vocal style on Green, which was even apparent years later when Rolie was in Journey, where he was a founding member. Judas Priest ended the decade with a rendition of 1970’s foreboding “The Green Manalishi (With the Two Prong Crown),” spelling out Green’s role as a heavy metal progenitor. The ominous phantasmagoria of the original is similar to Pink Floyd’s “Astronomy Domine” from three years earlier. Both could soundtrack a demonic fairground.
There are quite a few parallels between Green and his spiritual doppelganger Syd Barrett, the original Pink Floyd guitarist-singer-songwriter. Groundbreaking British musicians with matinee idol looks born in 1946, their struggles with drug related-mental health issues caused them to leave bands they led and become recluses (especially Barrett), only to witness each group eventually develop into an enduring musical and cultural phenomenon. (Unlike Barrett, Green would occasionally record and tour in the ‘80s, ‘90s and the 21st century.)
Pink Floyd’s 1975 tribute to Barrett, “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” is uniquely affecting in that it mourns someone who was still alive at the time, with David Gilmour’s heroically sad guitar prologue expressing grief even more devastatingly than the lyrics. Seeing as Green was virtually going through the same situation, Gilmour may have had both in mind while he played. One of his biggest influences, you can hear Green in Gilmour’s stately guitar odysseys, particularly on that song. It’s like the solo from “First Time Alone” in Technicolor.
Green’s departure from Fleetwood Mac at the dawn of the decade set off a domino effect, giving more of a spotlight to Danny Kirwan and Jeremy Spencer, then later on Bob Welch, Bob Weston, and of course, Christine McVie, Lindsey Buckingham, and Stevie Nicks. It’s a remarkably talented group of musicians who had their lives and careers changed directly or indirectly because of him.
The guitarists on that list are indicative of the high standard he set, the latest being former Heartbreaker Mike Campbell, who sang “Oh Well” on the most recent Fleetwood Mac tour. Campbell, like Green, is a virtuoso known for poignant, economical solos. Moreover, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers often covered “Oh Well,” and the impetus for their 2010 album Mojo was the blues rock of the late ‘60s/early ‘70s, chief among them Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac.
As the Buckingham/Nicks Fleetwood Mac were experiencing a new level of success with 1977’s Rumors, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers were starting to get noticed because of “American Girl,” the first single from their self-titled debut, released in late 1976. The self-titled debut from Dire Straits came out two years later, with genius guitarist-singer-songwriter Mark Knopfler picking up and expanding where Green’s 1970 instrumental “Timeless Time” left off. It was also during this period that another classic first album came out, 1977’s My Aim Is True by Elvis Costello. After Green’s passing, Costello acknowledged his debt to him and 1969’s “Man of the World” by admitting, “I wouldn’t be playing guitar today if it wasn’t for that record,” illustrating how Green’s reach extended even into ‘70s punk/new wave.
“Shall I tell you about my life?” Those are the first words of “Man of the World.” That it sounds like the start of an Elvis Costello song exemplifies the profound impact Green had on him, and how Green’s proficiency with the guitar overshadowed his stellar writing. The key line from the song, “There’s no one I’d rather be, but I just wish that I’d never been born,” has the complexity of Costello’s best work. The self-loathing of the second part uncovers that the first is expressing contempt for the world as well. If you despise your existence, yet would still rather be yourself than anyone else, that’s not exactly a glowing endorsement of humanity. In other words, “Don’t ask me what I think of you, I might not give the answer that you want me to.”
The song goes from braggadocio to longing in two and a half minutes, with the opening proclaiming, “I’ve flown across every tide, and I’ve seen lots of pretty girls,” and the last line lamenting, “How I wish I was in love.” The ending is the kicker, revealing that all along Green’s been presenting to us the thin line between misanthropy and romanticism.
Writing about Green, Costello mentions how Mac’s 1968 cover of Little Willie John’s “Need Your Love So Bad” motivated him to check out John’s work. It’s a reminder that Green and his generation of guitarists were usually the gateway to the blues, introducing the originators of rock’n’roll to legions of music fanatics.
Earlier this year, a few weeks before the world shut down, some of those guitarists like Gilmour, Pete Townshend, and ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons congregated in London to perform at a tribute concert for Green organized by Mick Fleetwood. The 86-year-old John Mayall joined Gibbons on the Otis Rush cover “All Your Love,” an inspired pairing of Green mentor and disciple. Along with Green’s then-girlfriend Sandra Elsdon, “All Your Love” had been the inspiration for “Black Magic Woman.” The song also put the focus on Rush, the Chicago bluesman who was such a towering figure to Green and Clapton, you can hear how they initially patterned their singing after him.
Gibbons and Steven Tyler performed the two songs they were destined to team up on, “Rattlesnake Shake” and “Oh Well, Part 1,” while Gilmour “Floyded” “Oh Well, Part 2” and “Albatross.” The former was, after 50 years, finally making its live debut, and Fleetwood dedicated the latter to his one-time brother-in-law George Harrison, a kind gesture that managed to recognize the recurring connection between the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, and considering who was covering “Albatross,” Pink Floyd.
The rest of the show included current and past members of Fleetwood Mac like Christine McVie and guitarist Jeremy Spencer, who was joined by former Rolling Stone bassist Bill Wyman. With Green’s passing five months later, Spencer is now the lone surviving guitarist from the early years. Another Mac alumnus, Rick Vito, the lead guitarist for the late ‘80s/early ‘90s edition of the group, and best known for his extraordinary slide guitar solo on Bob Seger’s 1986 nostalgia anthem “Like a Rock,” was part of the evening’s house band.
Few musicians could attract representatives of ‘80s thrash metal and ‘90s Britpop for the same show, but ex-Oasis mastermind Noel Gallagher and Metallica’s Kirk Hammett paid their respects to Green. Gallagher adapted admirably to acoustic blues like 1968’s “The World Keep On Turning.” Hammett roused a standing ovation from the crowd with his electrifying extended soloing on “The Green Manalishi (With the Two Prong Crown),” where you could hear a brief snippet of 1988’s “One” from Metallica. What made the performance even more special was that Hammett had been playing Green’s original 1959 Les Paul Standard, better known as “Greeny,” the guitar the song was written on. For years, it had been owned by the late Gary Moore, and later bought by Hammett. History was literally in good hands.
Not surprisingly, on a night where even his old guitar made an appearance, all that rock’n’roll royalty did not include the man everyone came to celebrate. Like he did in the ‘70s, the man born Peter Allen Greenbaum instead served as an Omnipetent presence. This time, not as a living casualty, but as someone living out their final years as a beloved elder statesman, felt but not seen in a dynamic world he helped create.
Fit for a man known as “The Green God.”
Matt Leinwohl