The one artist Mick Fleetwood always regretted not seeing
May 14th, 1998, was a day that unknowingly changed the course of the life of Mick Fleetwood forever.
It was not because of any seismic event in his personal life, any drama – although he’d endured plenty of them – or anything that would have consciously affected him as he went about his day-to-day life. But on May 14th, 1998, suddenly Fleetwood’s hero was gone, and he’d never even had the chance to see the man in the flesh.
It’s a lesson on viewing our idols as immortals, because the true reality is that they really aren’t, no matter how iconic a life and career they had stacked up. Yet when Frank Sinatra died on that fateful day at the age of 82, his advancing age and declining health instantly got pulled into razor focus for everyone – because they all thought he was set to live forever.
Fleetwood was perhaps the guiltiest among them in this respect. As someone who grew up utterly worshipping stars, before then fulfilling the prophecy and becoming one himself, you’d think he would have perspective on both sides of the coin. But nevertheless, when Sinatra passed away, it was an event which drew the focus on every ounce of his musical regrets.
“You know, at some point, I wish I’d seen Frank Sinatra. And I didn’t. And lo and behold, one day Frank’s dead,” he reflected in an interview with Rolling Stone. Yet there is also an essential difference between Fleetwood offering up these comments now that makes them all the more pertinent than they would have been back in 1998.
At 78 years old now himself, Fleetwood is only a stone’s throw away from the age when Sinatra kicked the bucket. That’s not a sinister attempt to suggest his days are in any way numbered, but it’s almost as if the realisation has finally hit the musician, as he looks around him and his sonic peers, of what they really have in front of them.
“I don’t know if morbid is the correct word here, but when everyone is in their seventies and you think about five years from now,” he added, tailing off as he burrowed down the dark rabbit hole. In many ways, the piercing stare of ‘Ol’ Blue Eyes’, which he never got to see in real life, is exactly what keeps Fleetwood on the straight and narrow, knowing that when all is said and done, what he puts out in the world will be the only thing he is remembered for.
Of course, Sinatra’s legacy is not one defined by regret or tragedy, nor is it to be seen as a symbol of terrifying morbidity. But it is absolutely a sign to seize the moment while you have it – that no matter if the artist has seemingly been treading for boards for years and seems to be a permanent staple, ultimately, one day they will be gone, and you shouldn’t spend your days wishing you had just bought the ticket.
That’s the lesson Fleetwood is keen to impart here – and it’s not just a ploy so you buy tickets to his gig or any flaunted Fleetwood Mac reunion. Whether it was him, Sinatra, or anyone in between, everyone has their ultimate heroes. But one day, perhaps soon and perhaps not, they will be gone. You don’t want to be left blind-sided.
