Bare Trees (1972) 


 

  1. Child of Mine
  2. The Ghost
  3. Homeward Bound
  4. Sunny Side of Heaven
  5. Bare Trees
  6. Sentimental Lady
  7. Danny's Chant
  8. Spare Me a Little of Your Love
  9. Dust
  10.Thoughts on a Grey Da

 

From 1968’s Mr. Wonderful to 1975’s self-titled Fleetwood Mac, the band underwent such frequent personnel shifts that the idea of a “stable lineup” seemed almost utopian. In fact, across nine consecutive albums, Bare Trees is the lone exception—featuring the exact same personnel as its immediate predecessor (Future Games). It shows. There’s a cohesion and creative clarity here that was often elusive during the group’s more turbulent reshuffles. Without a doubt, it is the finest of the Bob Welch-era albums, and arguably one of the band’s most consistent releases full stop.

And yet, while Welch’s fingerprints are firmly on the record, Bare Trees belongs—musically and spiritually—to Danny Kirwan. Much like Peter Green’s Then Play On contributions before him, Kirwan’s work here represents both an artistic high point and an unexpected farewell. His departure following the album’s release (amid increasingly erratic behavior) marked the end of an era. But if he was burning out, he did so in incandescent fashion.

Kirwan dominates the tracklist, contributing five of the ten songs, and demonstrating a remarkable breadth of tone and mood. Sunny Side of Heaven, a melodic instrumental drenched in atmosphere, contrasts sharply with the percussive urgency of Danny’s Chant, whose tribal rhythms and wordless vocals are both unsettling and hypnotic. Elsewhere, Child of Mine and Dust offer a more traditional melodic beauty—melancholy, lilting, and unmistakably his.

Welch, for his part, rises to the occasion. Sentimental Lady—a song he would later re-record (and successfully chart with) as a solo artist—makes its debut here in a more stripped-down, acoustic-led arrangement. While the solo version added polish, the original carries more emotional weight. It floats gently across the album’s midsection like a quiet sigh. The Ghost is similarly moody, a swirling piece of soft rock mysticism that suits Welch’s whispery vocal style perfectly.

Christine McVie—now comfortably embedded in the lineup—contributes two tracks, both emblematic of her strengths. Spare Me a Little of Your Love is the standout: a warm, soulful plea wrapped in classic pop form, and perhaps the most radio-friendly moment on the record. Homeward Bound, while slightly plodding, offers a glimpse into McVie’s recurring tension between the pull of domestic life and the demands of the road—a theme she would revisit throughout her career.

Curiously, the album closes not with a song, but with a recording of their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Scarrott, reading a poem entitled Thoughts on a Grey Day. The lo-fi tape quality makes one wonder why she wasn’t simply invited into the studio (or at least closer to the microphone), but the gesture is charming nonetheless. Her weary voice and weathered verse give the album its title and its coda—a final note of gentle introspection that ties the entire affair together.

In the context of Fleetwood Mac’s sprawling and often chaotic discography, Bare Trees stands as a quietly remarkable achievement. There’s no chart-topping single, no flamboyant production, no grand statement. What it offers instead is a unified mood, a shared sensibility, and a lineup that—for once—sounds like it actually enjoyed making music together.

It’s all the more poignant knowing what came next: Kirwan’s departure, followed by more personnel shifts, and eventually the seismic arrival of Buckingham and Nicks. But here, for just one album, the pieces aligned. Bare Trees is the apex of Fleetwood Mac’s transitional period—unassuming, bittersweet, and beautifully crafted.


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