Tag: Lindsey Buckingham

  • VINTAGE VIDEO: ‘Blue Denim’ from Late Night with David Letterman

    VINTAGE VIDEO: ‘Blue Denim’ from Late Night with David Letterman

    Stevie’s performance of “Blue Denim” on Late Night with David Letterman (and her entire Street Angel saga) is memorable for a number of reasons. Stevie had recently completed treatment for a debilitating addiction to prescription medication and finally released her fifth solo recording Street Angel after several delays and attempts to “fix” the album.

    Despite the tepid critical response to the album, Stevie forged on with the necessary promotion, which included a national tour and requisite TV appearances, such as the Letterman performance. Rather than sulk or go through the motions, Stevie gave it her all — busting out the bold costumes, whimsical set designs, and powerhouse vocals that longtime fans wanted her to unleash once again. Not all of the transformations worked out, but her gallant efforts proved to the world, and most importantly to her fans, that Stevie Nicks was a rock and roll survivor, crimped hair and all! Perhaps she was channeling the look of future drummer Jimmy Paxson…?

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IV3n_4x4Jbk

  • Lindsey Buckingham talks new Fleetwood Mac music

    Lindsey Buckingham talks new Fleetwood Mac music

    Fans knew a Fleetwood Mac tour was imminent, but what they didn’t know was that new music was in the works. Two new songs, “Sad Angel” and “Miss Fantasy,” will come out before the tour kicks off in April. But longtime fans of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks might be even more thrilled with this development: They’re seriously considering reviving their pre-Fleetwood Mac career as Buckingham Nicks – and recently recorded a song that was originally intended for the follow-up that never came to their one self-titled album. Buckingham sat down to talk exclusively to MSN about the new (and old) recordings.

    MSN: When we spoke last year about your solo album Seeds We Sow you said a Fleetwood Mac reunion would happen.

    Lindsey Buckingham: “Did I say it was going to happen in 2012?”

    Yes, but you said you wanted to do an album first. Stevie told me she wanted to do an album but people aren’t interested in them anymore, so you have just the two songs for now.

    “Oh no, that’s not true. I don’t know what she’s talking about. She just didn’t come with any songs. She didn’t want to do an album. I said ‘Stevie, what do you think?’ and she said ‘No, I don’t want to do that.’ So I didn’t push it. I’ve got all this stuff sitting around. I’ll get John (McVie) and Mick (Fleetwood) over here from Hawaii and do a low-key, under-the-radar situation, producer-wise, just see what happens. We cut like seven, eight tracks with Mitchell Froom and the stuff turned out great. We did it all in the proper keys for Stevie’s range, and for her to drop in her parts. My hope she would hear some of this stuff and love it and get drawn in. She wasn’t really prepared to love it, so she didn’t. She’s starting to love it more now, now that she’s on a couple. She felt sort of put-upon and that’s fair enough I guess. She had her idea of not wanting to do it and here I was getting John and Mick over, doing this rah-rah thing. Come on guys!”

    I have a feeling this interview is going to get the tour canceled before it begins…

    “No, no, no, not at all. But I think probably she felt put-upon in the sense she didn’t have a lot of material sitting around to bring. Maybe there was a sense of pressure on her part. I was talking to Mick yesterday. At some point we’re going to be very glad we did this material. Something’s gonna happen with this. What that is remains to be seen. If we only use a couple of these for now, that’s fine. Stevie still needs to come with something. Who’s to say? I’m not pushing for an album. Down the line, maybe. I think it would be great. Stevie’s gotta be happy, she’s gotta be comfortable and that’s really the bottom line.”

    How did you hook up with Mitchell Froom?

    “I had never met Mitchell but spoke with him on the phone. I like the guy. I like some of his reference points that I was aware of. I also knew he was a very skillful string-arranger in case we wanted anything more outside the box like that. And to top it off he lives about five minutes from me. We did this whole thing in a very handcrafted way. I’d go into his house and gave him all my rough demos first, some of which were fleshed out, others just snippets of things hummed into my phone….we sort of agreed on what songs we’d do, worked on arrangements. We had the whole thing worked out before John and Mick showed up. Then it was pretty organic. It was interesting for him – the peculiarity of how we do things… for three weeks we came up with all that’s stuff. It’s all very pop. It hearkens back to the Fleetwood Mac classic feel. And John and Mick were just playing their asses off.”

    With all your recent touring and solo albums and new songs are you in a particularly prolific phase?

    “I’m not sure. It’s maybe the fruition, or something like that, of the choices I’ve been able to make and implement. You can take it way back if you wanna get really philosophical and go back to Tusk. Since 2005, we got off the road from doing the Say You Will tour. I was working on a certain level of frustration at having several attempts of solo projects being co-opted and turned into Fleetwood Mac projects. It happened several times. I asked for three years off in order to do two back-to-back albums, which I did, just trying to get it all out of my system … I did Under the Skin and Gift of Screws … I began to get a much stronger sense of myself by putting some chronological things together …confidence enters into it, I guess, but just focus and momentum.”

    Let’s talk about the new music coming out. There’s another deluxe Rumours package coming out with more unreleased stuff. After the DVD-A and the previous deluxe release what’s left in the vaults for that?

    “You’re asking the wrong guy (laughs). I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s a marketing thing. I don’t have much invested in that. What my function is when these things come out – someone else finds this stuff, finds stuff that hasn’t come out before. Then it’s my job to make sure it’s OK, that it’s something I’m comfortable with… that the whole thing makes sense or even relates to the Rumours album. Having said that I’m not a fan of repackaging things over and over again. I wouldn’t lose any sleep if this package didn’t come out, let’s leave it at that.”

    It’s frustrating to fans to get that again while the surround-sound mix of Tusk is still sitting in the vaults.

    “We did it! Getting Warner Brothers to put it out is another matter. And getting the band to want to put it out. That was my baby and there’s a certain subtext of it being the undermining factor of the brand. Maybe there’s a certain sublime level of suppression going on – not that anyone’s sitting around saying that, it’s just not on anybody’s A-list of things to do (laughs).”

    Tell me about the new songs “Sad Angel” and “Miss Fantasy.”

    “I was writing a lot of stuff. I was thinking about Stevie when I was putting these together. Many of the songs I came up with were directed at Stevie. They were a dialog to her. Both those are very much that. ‘Sad Angel’ – I think of her in all her traumatic splendor as having quite a bit of sadness that she still deals with. At the moment that it was being written I really was thinking about the fact that she and I were not agreeing on the idea of an album. The chorus is ‘Hello, sad angel, have you come to fight the war?’ It goes on to talk about ‘the crowd’s calling out for more.’ It’s sort of a cyclical look at our lives, the competitiveness of it yet the underlying unity of it. Each of our journeys has never been not a little about the other. ‘Miss Fantasy’ is more of the same thing. It’s a look back on….it’s talking about having a dream, recalling certain events that occurred years and years ago. The chorus is talking about ‘Miss Fantasy, it may be that you don’t remember me, but I remember you.’ That’s addressing all that’s happened over the course of time. You remember the person you were and the person I was back then? Is there any way to find any of that? Do we want to? Is it important to? Those are songs about Stevie and me.”

    Doing the song “Stephanie” on your solo tour from the out-of-print 1973 Buckingham Nicks album raised fans’ hopes that it’ll come out on CD someday. You also made a comment on the BBC about working with Stevie again. I assume that meant this tour but it was interpreted by some as you saying you might want to re-form Buckingham Nicks.

    “That’s not a misinterpretation. I would love to go out and do Buckingham Nicks. It’s sort of ironic because when Stevie came over here and started working we just had a great time, the best time we have had in years. She did bring in one song that was supposed to be her contribution to the Fleetwood Mac thing. After we were done with it she decided she wanted to put it on the Buckingham Nicks album (laughs). So that’s fine too. I don’t care. It’s an old song from pre-Fleetwood Mac. It was written sometime after Buckingham Nicks came out but before we joined Fleetwood Mac. We were working on a second possible Buckingham/Nicks album that never happened. So yes. The issue with all of that is once again a logistics issue. I have no problem with dropping a bonus track or one from her and one from me and putting out Buckingham Nicks finally on CD. …she said ‘We could do some dates between legs of the Fleetwood Mac tour.’ I’m thinking ‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s logistically possible.’ We’ve got a little less than 40 dates on the books, we’ll probably add a few more…we’ll do Europe and probably go down and do the summer in Australia and New Zealand. When the hell are we going to get together and rehearse a Buckingham Nicks show? So in my mind if she’s really serious what would be good to do is wait to put the (old) album out, or put it out and then do a new Buckingham Nicks album. The tour would have to wait till after that. Whether or not that will happen….she’s very heartfelt about what she’s saying, but it isn’t always clear. I don’t know what to say about that. But yes, to be very direct in response to your question if it were up to me… I would love to go out and do that again. That would be so cyclical and so karmically appropriate. If you see Stevie just tell her I said that.”

    Mark C. Brown / MSN

  • Q&A with Lindsey Buckingham

    Q&A with Lindsey Buckingham

    Lindsey BuckinghamThere’s Lindsey Buckingham, contributor of meticulous production, searing guitar and one of the all-time great musical kiss-offs (“Go Your Own Way”) to the soon-to-be-on-again Fleetwood Mac. Then there’s Lindsey Buckingham, the enigmatic eccentric behind celebrated solo efforts such as 2006’s acoustic-based Under The Skin and 1983’s bouncy “Holiday Road” (of National Lampoon’s Vacation fame), not to mention one of the most influential commercial flops in rock history, Fleetwood Mac’s 1979 double albumTusk, which has been covered in its entirety by Camper Van Beethoven and cited by Stephin Merritt and Matthew Sweet as a misjudged masterpiece.

    Buckingham’s latest solo album, Gift Of Screws (Reprise), is made palatable to the Mac-loving masses by buoyant pop songs such as “The Right Place To Fade” (a dead ringer for Rumours opener “Second Hand News”) and the breezy “Did You Miss Me.” They provide a radio-friendly counterpoint to the batshit-crazy yelps and drummer Mick Fleetwood’s caveman stomp on the title track and the cut-and-paste electro clatter pulsing through opener “Great Day.”

    While his classic-rock peers have opted for the safety of summer shed tours and Wal-Mart partnerships, the 59-year-old Buckingham has spent the last several years crafting self-described “boutique” albums, mostly by his lonesome, then taking them on the road to entertain a devoted cult following.

    Your musical approach seems at odds with the fact that you came of age in the suburbs of San Francisco during the ’60s. Your style encompasses varied bits of what came before and after the Summer of Love, the psychedelic explosion and all that.

    I took all of that in. But I had been playing guitar since I was about seven, and many of my sensibilities were intact already. Most of the people I knew were picking up a guitar for the first time because of the 1967 scene, so there was a difference between how I was looking at the stuff and what I was pulling from it. The other thing is that by the time I got into a band—and because my sensibilities were somewhere between folk and (Elvis Presley guitarist) Scotty Moore and whatever else—I couldn’t play lead. I didn’t have the gear to play lead. [Laughs] I played bass in my first band.

    So you were more of an observer than a gleaner of what was going on around you musically?
    Yeah. I saw a lot of people—Zeppelin, the Who, Janis Joplin—at the Fillmore. And what was so great was the intimacy in which you got to see these people. The scene was so ripe at that time. It hadn’t quite gotten to the level of exploitation that it soon got to. There was innocence about all of that. The idealism was so intact.

    What attracted you to folk music as a kid?
    In the early ’60s, when that first wave of rock ’n’ roll started to become less interesting, I looked to folk. The Kingston Trio were a group I liked because they were taking folk to a commercial, dare I say produced, level. There was something interesting about that to me. They were not Pete Seeger doing some extension of Woody Guthrie; they were interested in making records.

    Prior to joining Fleetwood Mac, you got to work with Don Everly.

    Economics entered into the situation, and Stevie (Nicks) and I were trying to do whatever we could to pay our rent. We had not made any substantial money from [1973’s] Buckingham Nicks album. Our management company had the Carpenters and Jim Croce; they had some pretty big acts and weren’t too interested in us. [Laughs] I knew Warren Zevon, who had been playing with Don. There was an opening for a guitar player, and I got the gig. But the problem with that situation was that Don was wrestling with this idea of wanting to be Don Everly on his own, which is understandable. We were playing clubs, and everywhere we would go it was heartbreaking. All we would get was people yelling, “Play ‘Bye Bye Love,’ ‘Wake Up Little Susie.’” He was coming right out of being [in the Everly Brothers] and couldn’t take it. After about three cities, he pulled the plug on the tour. He said, “I can’t do this.”

    Did those kind of music-biz setbacks have an impact on the decision for you and Stevie to join Fleetwood Mac?

    Around the time we were asked to join Fleetwood Mac, we had started to do some shows based on the regional popularity of the Buckingham Nicks album. And it blew our minds, because we would go to fairly obscure places like Tuscaloosa, Ala., and would be able to headline for 3,000 or 4,000 people. Yet we couldn’t fill a club in L.A. It sort of gave us a little pause as to whether we were doing the right thing (by joining Fleetwood Mac), because there was this inkling that maybe something might’ve taken hold if we had seen it through.

    Your recent solo records have a hushed feel that’s not dissimilar to younger artists like M. Ward and Iron And Wine. Are you familiar with them?

    I’m not familiar with anything that new, really. You get to a certain point with your method and in your personal life—when you’re a father—where your context of things moves a little more to the right, shall we say. In my younger days, there was a communication of what to listen to based on what a group of people had. A lot of that’s gone away. I think the need to seek things out becomes a little less important when you’ve defined a way of working, something that’s more internally based. I try to listen to things that are fresh. Radiohead and Thom Yorke’s solo album I really love. Death Cab For Cutie, too; I love how they use 6ths and 9ths a lot in their melody lines.

    Legend has it that in your thirst to check out the punk scene in the late ’70s while Fleetwood Mac was on tour in the U.K., you would venture out to clubs on your own to see gigs.

    Yeah, but probably not as much as it’s been portrayed.

    Do you recall seeing anyone specifically?

    I can’t say I do, but man, I sure wish I’d seen the Clash back then. Maybe the Pretenders? I really can’t recall. Bands like that played a role in the motivation behind Tusk. There was the reaction to avoid making Rumours II. But there was the fact that there was a ton of new stuff coming out that felt closer to my heart. It was ballsier, it was chancier. It felt more in the spirit of what rock ’n’ roll began as. That helped to inspire the confidence to do Tusk.

    Tusk has taken on a life of its own among a younger generation of artists who identify with its avant-garde slant and the integrity in not making a safe follow-up to Rumours. What does the album represent to you 30 years on?

    It was the beginning of everything for me. You could look at that almost as a first solo album. Certainly it was the setting of a tone to which I still try to adhere. A point of departure in terms of what I think is important. I don’t think I would’ve gotten to that point had we not had this hugely successful album preceding Tusk. I gained perspective on the lack of freedom that success can give you.

    I’m of a mind that it’s not as “weird” a record as it’s usually portrayed once you get past the sonic presentation. You went from these pristine sounds on Rumoursto some fairly crude production techniques and loosely played parts with Tusk, especially the drums.

    Yeah, real loose. [Laughs] Much of that was a byproduct of the band allowing me to work on my own and bring in these finished tracks. On “Save Me A Place,” the rhythm track is a box of two-inch tape hit with a hand. I had a lot of fun, at some degree to Mick’s discomfort, because I was really into making sloppy drum statements. Obviously, that was his area.

    How do Fleetwood Mac records like (1982’s) Mirage and (1987’s) Tango In The Night sit with you? They both definitely have their moments.

    Mirage kind of represents a treading-water period for me. What happened in the wake of Tusk not selling 16 million albums or whatever, this dictum came down from the whole band that we weren’t going to engage in that kind of experimentalism anymore. And the time right after Mirage and through Tango In The Night was just the craziest time as far as the band goes. The lack of discipline, the personal habits, the alienation, everything. Making Tango, which was largely done in my garage, was almost impossible. Out of a year of working, we probably saw Stevie for maybe three weeks. It was smoke and mirrors. At the end of that album, I just couldn’t contemplate going out on the road with that. That was the beginning of me trying to pull back and regain some of my sense of self and sanity, which was not really too present within the microcosm I was living. [Laughs] But that’s showbiz.

    Patrick Berkery / Magnet Magazine /

  • The eternal return

    Once again, Lindsey Buckingham gets pulled back into Fleetwood Mac

    It’s fair to say that Fleetwood Mac probably would never have achieved such mega success had it not been for Lindsey Buckingham. Not to marginalize guitarists Peter Green, Jeremy Spencer, or Bob Welch-all of whom contributed immensely to making Fleetwood Mac one of the most progressive blues-rock-pop bands of the ’60s and early ’70s — but it was Lindsey Buckingham’s unique guitar style and savvy arranging, producing,and songwriting skills that guided the band to the top of the charts in the mid 1970s with Fleetwood Mac and Rumours.

    Born in Palo Alto,California, in 1949, Buckingham was inspired at an early age by the sounds of Elvis Presley and other ’50’s-era rock-and-rollers. “I had a brother who was seven years older, and when he started bringing those records home, I got very interested in trying to lay the songs,” explains Buckingham. “I eventually got a 3/4-sized guitar, but I never took any lessons. I just played to the records, and used a chord book to figure out how the songs went. Listening to Scotty Moore eventually led me to Travis picking and other folk styles, and it just went from there.”

    Buckingham’s first group was the Fritz Rabyne Memorial Band, which he co-founded with several friends-one of whom was singer Stevie Nicks. The group plied to San Francisco scene for a few years (with Buckingham on bass), and then broke up in 1971. Now a duo, Buckingham and Nicks relocated to Los Angeles, landed a record deal, and released Buckingham Nicks in 1973. After drummer/bandleader Mick Fleetwood heard the album, he invited them to join Fleetwood Mac.

    Buckingham, Nicks and keyboardist Christine McVie subsequently churned out a string of hits that made fortunes for the band and its record label. Despite their storied personal difficulties during the making of Rumours, the band stayed the course, releasing Tusk in 1979 and Mirage in 1982. However, Buckingham was also pursuing a solo career — having released Law & Order in 1981 and Go Insane in 1984 — and he left the group in 1987 after recording Tango in The Night.

    But even after the release of his third solo album, Out Of The Cradle in 1992, it still wasn’t over for Buckingham and Fleetwood Mac. In 1996, the band reunited to tour and film The Dance — a live DVD that featured the classic lineup performing its classic songs. Following the departure of Christine McVie after The Dance tour, Buckingham went back to work on what was supposed to be his fourth solo album. But that project would eventually turn into a new Fleetwood Mac double album to be released early in 2003.

    Or would it? At press time, Warner Brothers was still debating whether to release a single or double CD set, and the album title and final song sequence was undecided. So here is the story of a work still in progress-one with a wealth of new songs by Buckingham and Nicks, and a huge dose of Buckingham’s wickedly expressive finger-style playing.

    How did you solo album turn into a Fleetwood Mac production?

    I started working on this record after coming off the road for a small tour in support of Out Of The Cradle. One day I ran into Mick Fleetwood, who I hadn’t seen in quite a while, and we started talking about working together. At the same time, Rob Cavallo — who was producing Green Day at the time — became interested in working with me. So the three of us just started cutting tracks. I took most of the songs back to my house to finish them, and while that was happening — as has occurred a few times in the past-the gravity of Fleetwood Mac just sucked me in.

    At that time, there was a big push to do The Dance tour, so I put all my new stuff on the shelf throughout 1996. After the tour, I went back in and finished what was going to be my next solo album. This was about the time that Warner Brothers was preparing to change a lot of staff, though, and I was a little worried that my record would get buried. I felt strongly that it was the best solo thing I had done, so I thought, “Well, I’ll just wait.” In the meantime, Stevie was around, and the whole idea of getting her in the picture came about. I wasn’t sure that I was going to use my stuff for a Fleetwood Mac album, but we just decided to start cutting some of Stevie’s songs while I waited for for the new regime at Warner to come in. From there, the whole project morphed into as Fleetwood Mac thing.

    But without Christine McVie.

    Yeah. At the end of the 40 or so dates of The Dance tour, Christine announced she didn’t want to go out on the road anymore. I wasn’t completely unhappy with her decision because I had my solo stuff to get back to.

    How did her absence affect the sessions for this new album?

    The band had to explore new creative options because Christine wasn’t there. For example, we were forced to play differently because, suddenly, we were a three piece. Her absence also forced Stevie and I to establish a different dynamic with each other, and, ironically, it’s a bit more like Buckingham Nicks. But I think that working through Christine’s departure is one of the reasons this album sounds as fresh as it does.

    Did it make a difference that your songs had been written specifically for a solo album?

    I don’t know if the songs would have turned out any different had I known I was going to use them for a Fleetwood Mac album — although the process in which they were brought along would have changed. When you’re working with a band, a communal sensibility influences things, and the songs that make it are the ones that everyone think are appropriate “band” songs. Obviously, that’s not the case if I’m going off in a more esoteric direction on my own.

    Which process do you prefer?

    Well, there’s an analogy that working with a band is like making movies, and working alone is like painting. I’ve spent many years alone in my garage experiencing the contemplative aspects of songwriting, and I think that has contributed positively to my ability to write songs and make records.

    When you’re writing a song, do you typically start with a guitar part?

    Yes. I’ve always admired Stevie for her ability to have the vocal melody be the center of the song. In theory, that’s how it should be. But the guitar is always the center of my songs, and writing is always a case of wondering, “What do I put over that?”

    The great thing about Stevie is that she really isn’t a musician, so 95 percent of her psyche is driving the melody. As a guitarist, I often find myself defining a guitar part before I even have a melody. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it can be more problematic when you’re trying to develop a song idea.

    At one time, you and Stevie and Christine were masters of turning personal difficulties into hit songs. Is the ability to reflect on what’s happening around you still a factor in your songwriting?

    I don’t really think of myself as a commentator of anything. I just try to find a lyric that has some truth, grace, and mystery. Hopefully, it will bridge the line between something personal and something that’s about the world in a broader sense.

    On Rumours — which was probably the primary example of our lives laid bare — I don’t think we were aware of what we were doing. Our situation was unique because two couples were breaking up while making a record, and the personal difficulties were fueling everything.

    You were playing a Telecaster before you joined Fleetwood Mac, and then you started using a Les Paul. Was there any reason for the switch?

    The band wanted me to play a humbucker guitar because Mick tuned his drums fairly low and Christine’s keyboard sounds were kind of Wurlitzer-like and Rhodes-y. All that lower midrange stuff tended to make the Telecaster sound really scratchy and thin.

    I did use the Telecaster onstage before Fleetwood Mac was released. Those weren’t big shows, but Mick was very adamant that we get out there and get some chops as a band. So there was a certain amount of obscurity working in our favour in terms of being able to play around and make some mistakes. I guess using the Tele live was one of them.

    Were there any other things you had to change to fit in with the band?

    Yes — it was quite a lesson in adaptation. I did everything from switching my guitar to become a less present as a player in order to do the right thing for the band as a whole. They even tried to get me to use a pick!

    What were you using for distortion when you first joined Fleetwood Mac?

    It was a old Sony 2-track tape machine that I’d rigged up. The deck had input and output gain controls, and you could overdrive one gain stage with the other. It was solid-state sounding, but it worked.

    I bought the deck when I first got interested in recording, and had read about Les Paul doing his sound-on-sound thing. I cut my teeth on recording and overdubbing with that machine. It eventually broke down, but the fuzz part still worked, so I plugged into it for my lead tone.

    You are the most noted use of the Turner Model I. How did you discover that guitar?

    Rick Turner had worked for Alembic for a long time, and the guitars they made were the equivalent of the basses the John [McVie, Fleetwood Mac bassist] still has. There were so much stuff on those instruments-parametric EQ and all this other cleverness. Anyway, Rick would ask me to try these different Alembic guitars, and they were always big and heavy with dense, exotic woods and brass hardware. They felt very sterile to me, and I finally said to him, “Why don’t you make me something that’s a cross between what you do and a Les Paul.”

    One day, during the sessions for Tusk, Rick showed up with the Model I. It was more about finding the ideal stage guitar, because as much as the Les Paul was fitting the bill in a fairly good way, it wasn’t giving my picking a fare shake. The Turner sounded slightly ore percussive and articulate-somewhere between a Les Paul and an acoustic guitar-and the tone worked better with my fingerstyle playing. I even used to put a set of .012-.052 flatwounds on it, but now I’m using a .010-.046 roundwound set.

    I’ve noticed you sometimes rotate the pickup on your Turner so that the bass side is closer to the bridge.

    That’s the sweet spot for me. It delivers a little more definition on the low end-which helps me cut through the band-and having the treble side of the pickup closer to the neck sweetens the top strings.

    Do you still use single-coil guitars in the studio?

    Yes. I use the Turner for lead playing and chunky rhythm parts in the studio, but a Strat or a Tele works better when I’m trying to orchestrate guitar parts, and I need something that’s voiced more sublimely.

    Who was your main lead guitar influence?

    I can’t say it was one person. I used to love Led Zeppelin, but I never sat around trying to learn Jimmy Page licks. In terms of developing a sense of melody, I was helped along by Dave Mason’s Alone Together -a wonderful album with a very pretty kind of lead-guitar style. But I never thought of myself as someone who was going to go out there and burn it up. In fact, the lead stuff came very late for me.

    How has technology influenced the way you make records?

    It hasn’t. I still have a traditional console — it’s not even computerized-and I still record to tape. I would like to change the way I record, though, because I now wish I had some of the editing capabilities that allow you to do things quicker.

    But you did use a Roland VG-8 to record much of the album. Were any conventional amps used in the studio?

    Well, you’re right about that level of technology-we hardly used any amplifiers. Although for Gift Of Screws, we put a bunch of amps in different rooms, and mixed and matched the sounds until we got what we wanted. The amps included a Fender Bassman and a Vox AC30.

    You get a very clearly defined sound on both your nylon — and steel — string acoustics. Do you record them with a mic or a pickup, or both?

    A lot of times, I’m running direct with a pickup-although I’ll sometimes mic the guitar to capture a little more air in the acoustic sound.

    When you layer acoustic sounds, you often seem to include your Dobro.

    Yeah, that same riff I’ve been playing for years! The Dobro is tuned to dropped D. I probably got that from listening to Stephen Stills in the late 60’s.

    You flail the strings aggressively with your right hand, yet your sound is very articulate and precise. Can you give us some insight into your technique?

    Flailing-and bit of frailing-pretty much describes it. I don’t think about it much because I’ve never had any formal training. I never sat around and practiced scales, and I never took any lessons. I’m still very limited in some ways.

    Is it that guitar playing comes so natural to you that you tend to focus more on the songs and less on the instrument?
    Even when I was eight years old, the most important thing was learning to play and sing that Elvis tune. For me, it as always been about the music and the songs, and how to make the big picture as interesting as possible.

    Tone Toys 

    “We got a loud, clean stage sound, and we used tube amps and EV speakers,” says Buckingham’s long-time guitar tech, Ray Lindsey. “Lindsey’s fingerstyle playing creates huge dynamics and lots of low-end, and we want to be able to keep the sound clean and tight so that when he goes for a solo, it really stands out.

    “The Boss OD-1 has always suited Lindsey for his distortion tone. It adds sustain, but it still allows him to get a pretty clean lead sound. We also split his guitar signal before the amp so that the front-of-house guy can add some of the direct sound to the mix. This helps overcome the mushiness of the room, and it also adds attack and definition to the guitar sound.

    “Lindsey prefers a heavier, more industrial tone onstage, and for The Dance we used Mesa/Boogie Dual rectifiers set up for the cleanest possible sound. They did the job, but I still think we could take it a step further. We just wanted a huge clean tone, but it’s hard to find in the Dual Rectifier because there are so many overdrives stages that you have to neutralize to get there. We used custom cabinets, which were closed-back on the bottom and open-back on top. I think that setup worked okay for The Dance video because of the smaller stage, but when we got to the arenas it couldn’t quite go to the next level.

    “Lindsey used a Roland VG-8 extensively for the new album. I’ve experimented with a few different modelling amps, and the VG-8 seems more true in its sampled sounds. It also has less bells and whistles to deal with, and that allows us to get to the music faster.” — AT

    Buckingham’s Licks

    Although the song selection and running order of the new Fleetwood Mac album was up in the air as we went to press, I was treated to a special preview of the planned two CD release in the Warner Brothers offices last December. Later on, Buckingham graciously detailed the 6-string highlights of some of his favorite songs. We can only hope that the final version of the album lets you hear these gems.”— AT

    I Am Waiting. “The straight sound is a Baby Taylor with gut strings,” says Buckingham. “Then I played the same part through a very ethereal patch on the Roland VG-8. I like the idea of mixing different textures with a single guitar part.”

    Gift of Screws. “I don’t think I’ve ever done this on a record before, But I doubled my lead part with my voice on this song-just like George Benson. It’s an interesting device, and I did a bit more of it on the song “Miranda.”

    Thrown Down. “It sounds like I used a high-strung guitar here, but I’ve also been known to do an old Les Paul trick to re-voice my guitar parts. For example, I’ll track a part with the tape machine slowed down a half step, and the part will sound sweeter and more “miniature” when the deck is run at normal speed. You have to be careful not to slow down the machine too much, though, because the guitar ca sound wimpy. I also did this trick on the chorus riff, which was tripled with little speed tweaks on either side of the correct pitch.”

    Not Make Believe. “The shimmering tones are courtesy of a doubled part and the speed-tweak trick. What you’re hearing is ‘natural’ phasing.”

    Bleed To Love Her. “The backwards guitar is my Strat through a Lexicon delay, and manipulated with a volume pedal.”

    Say Goodbye. “This song was written quite a long time ago, after I had left the band. I don’t know if I was going for anything in particular, but I was in a place where I could feel compassionate, understanding, and nonjudgmental about the other people in the band, and about everything that had happened. The lyric was really important to me, and the fingerpicking part makes it a really nice guitar piece.”

    Red Rover. “The speed and aggressiveness in my fingerpicking is a big part of what I have to offer these days. Here, the very percussive, fingerpicked part was doubled, and then I slowed down the tape machine and bounced the double to another track. This allowed me to control the doubled part with a fader, and I moved the fader back and forth in time with the music. It almost sounds like some of that gating stuff they did in the ’80s — that on-off kind of thing — except this method is more organic. My idea was to create some negative space to take the place of the drums, and I had to slow the tape machine way down to get the rhythmic manipulations as precise as possible. It’s all about being in the pocket.”

    Murrow Turning Over In His Grave. “The very strange-sounding distortion part is based around a cluster of atonal vocals. You get five, six, or seven different tones together that are out of tune with each other, and it just becomes this arrgh kind of sound. I think there might be some slide in there, too. This song has elements of something quite traditional and recognizable in an almost generic sort of way, yet it departs from that at the chorus when you’re suddenly into this weird Brian Wilson/Yardbirds acid thing. I would never want to do something that was generic all the way through.”

    Art Thompson / Guitar Player (Issue 399, Vol. 37, No.4) /April 2003

  • Post-Mac attack

    “I’M NOT TRYING TO COMPETE with Kris Kross now, just like I didn’t try to compete with Christopher Cross in the old days.”

    Lindsey Buckingham–the pop genius and sonic architect behind Fleetwood Mac’s string of platinum successes in the Seventies and Eighties–is sitting under a velvet Elvis portrait in his home studio in the lovely hills of Bel Air, California. Buckingham has spent a substantial portion of the last four years in this room. Now, however, he’s finally on the verge of sharing with the public some of the music that he and Richard Dashut, his coproducer and writing partner, have been creating here, and he’s considering the question of how popular his eccentric brand of melodic pop will be these days.

    “I guess it’s obvious that making this album hasn’t been an especially speedy process,” says the master of the understatement. “But I had to let a lot of emotional dust settle. People might think I’ve been off on some island getting my ya-yas out. The truth is, I’ve basically been here twelve hours a day. I’ve been goofing off only in the most productive sense.”

    Asked if he’s grown sick of the windowless room, Buckingham pauses as if he hasn’t considered the issue before. “Well, I’m not really sick of it,” he says finally. “But I haven’t come inside here for a while, and I’m not sure why. A couple of weeks ago, I opened the door and just looked in. And I couldn’t relate to having spent the amount of time I did in here. This room became more my reality than the rest of the house. At times the whole thing seems like a weird dream to me.”

    Buckingham pauses again and looks around the room. “You know,” he adds, “actually, I guess I am pretty damn sick of this place.”

    Happily, all of Buckingham’s work has paid off. Out of the Cradle–his first release since he decided to go his own way and leave the Big Mac shortly after the release of 1987’s album Tango in the Night–is a wildly impressive coming-out party for the forty-two-year-old Buckingham. A veritable one-man show, the album is an artfully crafted song cycle whose romantic lushness is effectively balanced by a healthy dose of ripping guitar. More ambitious than the two solo albums he squeezed in between Mac projects–1981’s Law and Order and 1984’s Go Insane–Out of the Cradle represents Buckingham’s finest work since 1979’s Tusk, the album that established a creative high-water mark for his former group. That album–the controversial follow-up to 1977’s Rumours, one of the best-selling records of all time–was also, according to Buckingham, the beginning of the end for him and Fleetwood Mac.

    Buckingham and his then creative and romantic partner, Stevie Nicks, joined Fleetwood Mac in late 1974. At the time, Buckingham was already a “complete studio rat.” He first caught the bug when he set up a recording room at his father’s coffee plant, in Daly City, California, after dropping out of college in the early Seventies. Around the same time, he and Nicks started playing together with a Bay Area group called Fritz. They moved to Los Angeles in 1973, recording an album as Buckingham-Nicks the next year.

    “Our record company had no idea what to do with us,” says Buckingham. “They said something about wanting us to be the new Jim Stafford, and they wanted us to play steakhouses.” Opportunity knocked when Mick Fleetwood went to check out an L.A. studio and producer Keith Olsen played a track from the record he’d done with Buckingham-Nicks as a demonstration. Impressed, Fleetwood asked the pair to join his band a week later. It would prove to be a savvy decision. The reconstituted Mac–with Buckingham and Nicks joining bassist John McVie; his then wife, keyboardist and vocalist Christine McVie; and Fleetwood–debuted with 1975’s Fleetwood Mac, a multiplatinum smash that sold nearly 6 million copies worldwide, followed by the classic Rumours two years later.

    Yet Buckingham says it was never an easy fit–though at first the tensions within the band fueled the music. “Fleetwood Mac was one big lesson in adaptation for me,” says Buckingham. “There were five very different personalities, and I suppose that made it great for a while. Obviously, having two couples–and soon enough, ex-couples–added a lot more tension and some great subject matter to the mix. But the problems really kicked in when you started adding five managers and five lawyers to the equation. Once Stevie was singled out and selected as the star of the band, the machinery of the rock business clicked in, and things really got stupid. By the time of Tango, you could hardly fit all these people in one room for a band meeting. It was a heartbreaking thing to watch, until it became almost comical.”

    Musically, however, things just got better and better for Buckingham until the release of Tusk, an under-appreciated pop epic that met with a mixed response commercially, selling only 2 million copies. “It was a bizarre left turn,” Buckingham says. “But I knew if we made Rumours II that we’d have to make Rumours III and Rumours IV. We’d sold 14 million copies of Rumours [21 million worldwide], so we were in that mega-Michael Jackson area, and that’s a dangerous place to be. There was a big backlash. It wasn’t like the people around me at the time were saying, `Hey, Lindsey, let’s keep going in that interesting direction where we sell a lot less records than we used to.’ I really had the wind taken out of my sails, and I felt set adrift for a while.”

    In 1982 the band returned to the top of the charts with the more user-friendly Mirage, but for Buckingham the thrill was gone. “It became more and more this big machine that had to have hits to keep working,” he says. “There was no room to grow. After Tusk, it was basically all disappointment for me. It became a soap opera.”

    Partly in an attempt to give Fleetwood Mac a more fitting swan song, Buckingham and Dashut returned to help whip Tango in the Night into shape. In the end, that record became the group’s biggest album since Rumours, with sales of 8 million. Still, the experience was hardly an easy one. “It was a mess,” he says. “Whatever was going on in people’s personal lives, I can’t really say. I was never the one up all night creating shenanigans and high jinks anyway–I was the one who went up to my room to work on songs. But for whatever reasons, there was no camaraderie left. Just getting people in the same room to create more semblance of a group became a huge hassle. Especially with Stevie, who was probably around for something like ten days for that whole record.”

    Buckingham’s split with the band came when he decided he couldn’t tour to support the album. “They’d smoothed things over and coerced me, and I’d kind of agreed to go,” he says. “Then I realized I just couldn’t do it. I called another meeting, and they were shocked and hurt. I knew they wouldn’t leave it at that, so basically you could say I was let go.”

    The group added two new members, Billy Burnette and Rick Vito, in an attempt to fill the void left by Buckingham’s departure. Diplomatically, Buckingham says only that Behind the Mask– the 1990 record the group made without him–was “not an album I can say I took to heart.”

    Buckingham did, however, take to heart some of the slights meted out by Fleetwood in his 1990 tell-all tome, Fleetwood. “I didn’t read the whole book,” Buckingham says, “but I did skim it, and there were a lot of . . . untruths, shall we say. Mick was basically trying to underplay my contribution, but the thing that really upset me is the incident he describes of the night I left the band. He had this thing in there about me slapping Stevie. I mean, she probably deserved to be slapped. But it never happened that way. I don’t know what Mick was talking about.”

    “Wrong,” one of the tracks on Out of the Cradle, was inspired in part by Buckingham’s reaction to Fleetwood. The rest of the album reflects Buckingham’s experiences with the group in a much more vague and positive manner. “There’s no sense in my hiding from the association,” he says. “I feel like fifteen years with Fleetwood Mac was like working on my thesis, doing research for some kind of paper. And I wanted to make an album that sort of put it all in a real healthy perspective with maybe a little more maturity in there somewhere. Because even though I feel younger than I did ten years ago, the fact is, I’m not eighteen and there’s no point in pretending I am.”

    Buckingham decided to bury the hatchet with his former band mates and made a cameo appearance onstage at the end of Fleetwood Mac’s last concert in 1990. More recently, he agreed to work with the group on some new tracks for an upcoming box set, if time permits. “Going up onstage with them one more time wasn’t any sort of nail in the coffin for me emotionally,” he says, “because I already felt pretty detached. Still, the minute I saw Mick, the chemistry was still there, and that was pretty much the case with everyone. It was a gas.” As for the new songs, Buckingham says: “There’s no reason for me not to do it. I’d have to feel a lot of animosity toward those people not to work with them, and I don’t feel that way.

    “I left Fleetwood Mac to make myself happy,” says Buckingham, “and fortunately it worked. That’s why I spent all this time in the garage–trying to make something that made me happy.” And though Buckingham says that “so much in my life is work right now,” he admits to having left the studio occasionally to spend time with longtime girlfriend Cheri Caspari, whom he met while making Go Insane.

    Still, Buckingham says, he’s more than willing to leave his home long enough to support Out of the Cradle by hitting the road. “It’ll be great to get out of the studio, get some air and play with some other musicians,” he says. “In the Fleetwood Mac days we got used to the private jets and everything when we toured, but this time I’ll take the public bus if I have to.”

    At the same time, Buckingham wouldn’t mind selling some records, too. “My other solo records were made quickly as sidebars to a more mainstream situation,” he says. “That’s not the case anymore, so there’s no point in my being esoteric just for the sake of it now. I’m certainly not interested in making a cheap-shot sellout. This is no longer the sideshow, this is the main event, and I hope there are hits on there somewhere.”

    Lenny Waronker, president of Warner Bros. Records, Buckingham’s label, believes there’s no shortage of hits. “It’s the height of great songwriting and record making,” he says, “and I think the power and quality of the music will bring people in.”

    Buckingham named the album Out of the Cradle after the Walt Whitman poem “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking.” “The phrase just had a certain resonance,” Buckingham says. “Some people thought there was an unnecessary reference in the title to my leaving Fleetwood Mac, and I suppose you could make an argument for that. You could also argue that there’s something ironic and weird about a guy over forty thinking of himself as leaving any sort of cradle. But that’s the way it feels. And it feels very good.”

    PHOTOS: Lindsey Buckingham (E.J. CAMP)

     

    David Wild / Rolling Stone / June 25, 1992 (Issue 633, p32)

  • Lindsey Buckingham takes a breather

    Lindsey Buckingham takes a breather

    The Fleetwood Mac of all trades, Lindsey Buckingham takes a breather with his own one-man band.

    Solo albums marked the beginning of the end for the Beatles. So when Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks recorded her album Bella Donna and Mick Fleetwood himself made The Visitor, the music world buzzed with speculation. Was the Big Mac disintegrating into a bunch of McNuggets? Rumors heated up again last fall when the band’s artistic well-spring, Lindsey Buckingham, 32, released his own first LP, Law and Order. Many wondered if the title of his Top 10 single meant what it suggested—Trouble.

    The answer seems to be: Not yet. Fleetwood Mac has long been rock’s turbulent version of The Young and the Restless, and Buckingham swears it’s all just a harmless way of blowing off a little creative steam. “With the band,” he explains, “there are five distinct personalities, lots of second-guessing, and it’s tough to get from point A to point B.” (Neither of the other two band members, John McVie and his ex-wife, Christine, has gone solo since joining Fleetwood Mac.)

    Buckingham is generally credited with transforming the blues-rock band into a commercial powerhouse. If praised for the 16 million sale of 1977’s Rumours, though, he also shouldered much of the blame for Tusk, a double-disc white elephant that was critically acclaimed but peaked at “only” four million in 1980. After a 76-city world tour, the band decided it needed time off. “John went on a cruise,” recounts Lindsey. “Christine just layout in the sun. But three weeks off and I go nuts. Working makes me happy.”

    He began his solo project in a studio in his garage. It was a singular undertaking indeed. Buckingham sang, played drums, guitar and keyboards, and supervised the recording. “It was like a painter working on a canvas,” he says. “When I work with Fleetwood Mac it’s more like making a movie.” Artistic independence does have its price, though. “Doing all the production and playing nearly all the instruments,” he says, “you begin to lose your objectivity as to what’s good.” (Lindsey eventually called in Fleetwood Mac engineer Richard Bashut to co-produce in the studio.) Of the album’s title, he says, “Rock is usually about escapism, lack of discipline and promiscuity. Law and Order is about the sense of personal order in your life. If there are songs about a special, stable relationship, it’s because that’s what I have.”

    He means his five-year romance with Oklahoma-born Carol Harris, 28, a part-time fashion model. They met in a Los Angeles recording studio in 1976 where Carol was a receptionist, and they moved in together the following year.

    Buckingham’s previous paramour, of course, was Nicks. Their celebrated breakup took place in the mid-’70s at the same time the McVies were divorcing. Having gotten through “years of pain,” Lindsey says he and Stevie are able to maintain a stable working relationship. After the Tusk session, though, Nicks complained that it was “like being a hostage in Iran and, to an extent, Lindsey was the Ayatollah.” Says Buckingham with a smile, “I did have definite ideas.” On their relationship outside the studio, he reflects, “I don’t think we’ll ever be good friends. There was a lot of passion, but not a lot of camaraderie.” Is he bothered by the fact that Stevie’s solo album has sold two million copies? “It’s easy to feel envious of someone who gets as much fan mail and sells as many records as Stevie,” he confesses. “Obviously my stuff is a little more off the wall, but I like my album better than hers.”

    One of three sons of a coffee company executive father, Lindsey grew up in the San Francisco suburb of Atherton. “I was one of the tons of guys who ran out and got a guitar when Elvis came along,” he recalls. As a junior in high school he met Nicks, who was a senior. A year later they started playing in a band called Fritz, became lovers and soon split off to make one album as a duo, Buckingham Nicks.

    Though the LP died in the market, it caught the ear of Fleetwood, who had founded Mac in 1967. Looking for someone to replace the just-departed Bob Welch, he invited both Nicks and Buckingham to join in 1975. “I guess it was a good thing,” understates Lindsey. His tunes, such as Monday Morning and Go Your Own Way, helped Mac become one of the best-selling groups of all time.

    Today Lindsey and Carol live in a three-bedroom house in L.A.’s starry Bel Air. They’re obviously taking their time about setting a wedding date; Lindsey says only, “We’ve discussed it.” As he finishes mixing the next all-Mac album, scheduled for release this spring, Lindsey is planning a brief solo tour of small clubs and will then join Mac for a national tour. He is optimistic. “Now that we have these other outlets, it’s easier to do things as a group,” he says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we stay together a long while.”

    PHOTO (COLOR):In the studio Buckingham triples on guitar, drums and electric piano. Rehearsing in L.A. (inset) with Mac mates Mick Fleetwood, Christine McVie and Stevie Nicks, he sticks to lead guitar.
    PHOTO (COLOR):[See caption above.] PHOTO (COLOR):”Having a relationship and a recording career is a full-time job,” says Lindsey, working at it with housemate Carol Harris.
    PHOTO (COLOR):”We write about what is happening to us,” muses Buckingham, noodling here in the solarium of his Bel Air home.

    David Sheff / People (Vol. 17 Issue 7, p63. 2p) / February 22, 1982