In the spring of 1968, British blues was having its moment. Cream had just disbanded, Led Zeppelin was still finding its footing, and Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac was capturing something different, a softer, more hypnotic take on the blues that felt refreshingly unhurried. By early 1969, they’d reached an unexpected peak when their instrumental “Albatross” glided to number one on the UK charts, proving that not every blues band needed to blow the roof off to connect with audiences.
Green’s quieter charisma didn’t go unnoticed by his peers. During the filming of a then unnamed documentary (it would later become Peter Jacksons ‘Get Back’), John Lennon can be heard raving about seeing Fleetwood Mac on television. “They’re so sweet, man,” Lennon told his fellow Beatles. “And their lead singer’s great. You know, looks great, and he sort of sings quiet as well. He’s not a shouter.” When Paul McCartney compared them to Canned Heat, Lennon quickly corrected him: “Yeah, but better than Canned Heat.”
What Lennon had picked up on was Green’s distinctive approach to guitar and vocals. While contemporaries like Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton were pushing blues toward heavier territory, Green played with an almost vocal-like melodic sensibility. His tone, warm and singing through his beloved Gibson Les Paul, made every note feel deliberate and emotionally weighted. He wasn’t trying to overpower listeners; he was inviting them into something more intimate.
That intimacy served Green well when he started crafting “Black Magic Woman” in 1968. The song’s roots traced back to Otis Rush’s 1958 blues standard “All Your Love (I Miss Loving You),” which Green had played during his stint with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. Mayall had given his young guitarist a valuable piece of advice about composition: take the opening lines of a song you love and build something new from them. Green took that lesson to heart.
Before “Black Magic Woman” fully materialized, Green first worked through his ideas in “I Loved Another Woman,” a track that appeared on Fleetwood Mac’s 1968 debut album. The musical foundation was already there, that gently rolling Latin-influenced rhythm, the minor key melancholy, the unhurried pace. But something about it wasn’t quite finished.
The transformation came when Green rewrote the lyrics, drawing inspiration from his girlfriend Sandra Elsdon, whom he affectionately called “Magic Mamma.” The new words conjured a more mysterious, bewitching figure: “Yes, I’ve got a black magic woman / Got me so blind I can’t see / But she’s a black magic woman / And she’s tryin’ to make a devil out of me.” The mystical imagery tapped into the late sixties’ fascination with the occult and Eastern spirituality that was seeping into rock culture. Released on the 1969 compilation English Rose, Green’s “Black Magic Woman” became a showcase for both his nimble guitar work and his understated vocal delivery.
The song might have remained a cult favorite among Fleetwood Mac devotees if not for a young guitarist from San Francisco who’d just experienced his own breakthrough moment. In August 1969, Carlos Santana’s electrifying performance at Woodstock (particularly his band’s extended jam on “Soul Sacrifice”) had turned them into overnight sensations despite having released just one album. When Santana entered the studio to record his follow-up, Abraxas, he chose to reimagine “Black Magic Woman,” transforming Green’s intimate blues into a Latin rock eruption.
Santana’s version, sung by keyboardist Gregg Rolie, took the song’s subtle Latin pulse and amplified it into something entirely new. Extended instrumental passages showcased the band’s Afro-Cuban percussion and Santana’s fluid, sustain-heavy guitar tone. Where Green had whispered, Santana and his band conjured and summoned. Released in 1970, their version climbed to number four on the Billboard Hot 100, introducing the song to millions who might never have heard Fleetwood Mac’s original.
Today, “Black Magic Woman” exists as two distinct classics—proof that great songs can be reborn without erasing their origins. Green’s version remains a testament to the power of restraint in blues, while Santana’s demonstrates how cross-cultural fusion can honor a song even while transforming it. Both captured their own kind of magic, cast from the same spell.
