It’s been a difficult few years for everyone in the music industry. For Lindsey Buckingham, that is a huge understatement. Ousted from Fleetwood Mac, the band he had been the creative driving force since he joined with Stevie Nicks in 1975, and with emergency heart surgery leaving him with damaged vocal cords, a large question mark hung over his future.
Happily, he has recovered and promoting his self-titled album. The 2018 “Best Of” anthology seemed an attempt to draw a line in the sand and move forward, and so somewhat belatedly we have this, the 7th solo project from a man famed for his maverick and experimental streak.
The album was actually finished two years ago but circumstances combined to delay the release until now.
And it’s been the wait. This is the most accessible and pop-orientated album of his solo career. In the past, some of his best work allocated for release under his own name became the nucleus for albums by Fleetwood Mac. With that avenue currently closed, “the small machine” – as Buckingham himself refers to his solo work – has accumulated a set of catchy, melodic songs that might not have seen the light of day under the Fleetwood Mac name.
The catchy opener ‘Scream’ and ‘I Don’t Mind’ could sit easily on The Mac’s hits-heavy 80s albums ‘Mirage’ or ‘Tango In The Night’. ‘I Don’t Mind’, with its lilting female background vocals, can’t help but call for comparison with his work with Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie, albeit with a blistering guitar solo.
The ghosts of Stevie and Christine are never far away for the listener or is it just Buckingham’s own distinctive style? ‘On The Wrong Side’ harkens back to the intriguing soap-opera tales of the classic ‘Rumours’ album, as Buckingham continues his questioning of the nature of relationships, set to the glorious sound of that fingerpicking guitar style that he is synonymous with.
Every now and then I fall. Every now and then I rise. When my back’s against the wall, it’s just sometimes I compromise. I’m out of pity. I’m out of time. Another city. Another crime. I’m on the wrong side.
‘Swan Song’ is a venture into his more off the wall sounds, which grows on a few plays, before a return to contemplative rock in the form of ‘Blind Love’.
You feel love but you never give it to me. You steal love when you’re looking right through me. The last act keeps on knocking at the door. I wait and wait but I can’t hold out anymore. Blind love, show me your soul. If you can lie to me, I’ve got to know. Blind love, open your hands. If you can play the part, I’ve got to understand.
‘Blue Light’ is blessed with a childish, almost giddy, melody that canters along. But against that backdrop is a defiant tone in the vocal.
‘Time’ is an old song, framed for this collection in an almost straightforward acoustic manner. ‘Dancing’, which brings the album to a close, is another song delivered in hushed tones that threatens to break in half at times, but quietly intrigues until the end.
Therein lies the real strength of this album. The stylistic diversity of the songs offered. It’s a rich tapestry of sonic gems. Buckingham has managed to edit out, or restrain his more experimental or “out there” moments and produced a really warm record, that perhaps asks more questions about relationships than it ever seeks to answer.
Speaking of relationships brings us neatly to the future of Fleetwood Mac and whether it may involve Buckingham or not in the future. Most fans of the band, would I suspect, hope for reconciliation and perhaps a last hurrah for the band. Until that decision is made, we are left with this stunning record – the most Fleetwood Mac-sounding record that doesn’t bear their name.