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Lindsey Buckingham

At the age of 68, it’s clear that Lindsey Buckingham – the singer/songwriter/guitarist/producing force behind the Imperial Period (circa 1975-1987) of Fleetwood Mac – is, to quote the kids, all out of fucks to give. He’s been able to balance what he’s called “the big machine” of Fleetwood Mac with the cultivation of a compelling and diverse solo career over the past few decades, pulling down the ducats by flogging the FM hits in arenas and stadiums while releasing more criminally overlooked discs than all the other members of FM combined. By now, he's earned the right to do what he wants when he wants to.

One need look no further than 2017’s snoozed-on release of Buckingham McVie, a Fleetwood Mac album in everything but name, given that Stevie Nicks is the only member of FM who’s M.I.A. (Of course, you could say that about 1987’s Tango In The Night as well, but I digress. Willfully so.) Given that Buckingham is all over every track on Buckingham McVie, from multi-tracked background vocals to tasteful yet potent outro solos, it’s probably best that it wasn’t called a Fleetwood Mac record. Yet it’s also clear that Christine McVie – absent on wax for lo these many years – adds some extra sparkle that all of Buckingham’s studio wizardry can’t yet replicate. It’s a worthy thirty-years-later sequel to Tango In The Night, but it actually harkens back to the work that McVie and Buckingham whipped up on Fleetwood Mac's 1982 album Mirage. In other words, Buckingham McVie is vintage ‘80s Fleetwood Mac for the 21st Century -- in particular, "Feel About You" and "Lay Down For Free" can stand with their best work -- and it's one of my favorite albums of 2017 by a significant stretch.

Compare Buckingham McVie – the title a playful and barbed smooch to 1973’s Buckingham Nicks, the last time that either one of the soon-to-be-power-ex-couple was poor and unheralded – to Say You Will, the last official Fleetwood Mac album from 2003. The first Fleetwood Mac album since 1970’s Kiln House to not feature Christine McVie, it’s really a solo album from Buckingham with some Stevie Nicks welded on with poor solder and weak flame. At 18 (!) songs, it’s actually longer than 1979’s Tusk, and considerably weaker as a "legitimate" Fleetwood Mac album. But as a Lindsey Buckingham solo work, it’s full of sharp moments of introspection and observation, driving attack and wistful examination. And as usual, he fleshes out the material that Nicks brings to the table with the best of his ability, like a stone mason being given third-rate Fordite as raw material.

But what happens when both Nicks and McVie are out of the picture? Turns out there’s a damn good Fleetwood Mac album without any other members of Fleetwood Mac, and it’s Lindsey Buckingham’s third solo album, 1992’s Out Of The Cradle. Released just as the mainstream rock world was enraptured by grunge and shoegaze, it sank without a trace, despite being the most cohesive and diverse artistic statement of Buckingham’s solo career. (It’s also one of the most gorgeous-sounding CD’s of the pre-remastered “loudness war” era, as perfect for testing audio equipment as it is for standing as the soundtrack for romantic adventures.) Out Of The Cradle was the point at which I officially became a Lindsey Buckingham obsessive, looking back with new ears at his sonic midwifery with FM while also looking forward to each new solo album, from 2006’s Under The Skin to 2008’s Gift of Screws to 2011’s Seeds We Sow. Thankfully for listeners like me, from the aforementioned albums to his varied session work with The Dream Academy, Nine Inch Nails, Tom Petty, Empire Of The Sun, Matthew Sweet, John Stewart, and Walter Egan (just to name a few), Lindsey Buckingham has always followed the path best articulated by American poet Walt Whitman:

Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking

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