One of the legendary “lost” albums of the classic rock era, Buckingham Nicks—the duo record issued by Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks just before they joined Fleetwood Mac—was finally reissued this fall after five decades out of print.
The tumultuous and often contentious relationship between these two singer-songwriters—chronicled across a dozen albums and nearly as many Fleetwood Mac lineup shuffles—has been in evidence since day one, and remains so today. All you have to do is consider the length of time it’s taken for this reissue to see the light of day, and then take a single glance at the physical disc inside the package. For 50 years the artist on this album has been billed as Buckingham Nicks, as it still is on the reproduced cover—but on the CD itself, they are billed as “Nicks & Buckingham.”
Sigh.
But you probably want to know about the music. It’s solid Seventies West Coast pop-rock of just the sort bound to attract Mick Fleetwood’s attention in 1974, with flashes of virtuosity courtesy of Buckingham’s superb guitar work, and soulful overtones courtesy of Nicks’ beguiling vocal presence. That said—and having been a fan of classic Fleetwood Mac for decades, but never in my life having heard this album before now—I can report that Buckingham Nicks is not so much a lost classic as a modestly impressive debut, a solid yet flawed album whose highs aren’t that high and lows (thankfully) aren’t that low.
As evidenced by the above-mentioned shenanigans on the CD itself, Buckingham and Nicks compete for space throughout this album, while also demonstrating the potency of their musical partnership. The Nicks opener “Crying In The Night” sets the template for the partnership. Buckingham’s firm melodic strums are instantly identifiable; he's a very rhythmic guitar player and his style pairs beautifully with Nicks’ husky, resonant vocals. The track itself feels very much of its era, ’70s California rock exploring a dysfunctional relationship that appears to be nearing its end. It’s hard not to consider the interpersonal dynamics still emerging at that point as Stevie sings “She’ll leave you crying in the night” while Lindsey strums away behind her. (Has any breakup in rock history inspired more songs from the two principals?)
Next up, Buckingham’s “Stephanie” pays tribute to his partner with a warm acoustic instrumental that showcases his dexterity and muscular approach; he snaps the strings like a man with a chip on his shoulder. The lurching, jangly “Without A Leg To Stand On” is another characteristic LB number, tight and edgy though not particularly memorable until the chorus, where the duo’s harmonizing lifts the song to the next level.
Nicks’ “Crystal” is the one song here that was remade for the pair’s subsequent Fleetwood Mac debut (1975’s Fleetwood Mac). In both iterations it’s sung by Buckingham, an interesting choice, and in both cases, the pair’s harmonies on the chorus are pure magic. The difference between the two recordings lies mostly in the rhythm section. Ace session drummer Jim Keltner and whoever played bass on this track do a fine job here, but close comparison makes it clear that John McVie and Mick Fleetwood are unbeatable in the intuitive, dynamic way they bring added bounce and interest to the Mac version.
Nicks takes the mic for her “Long Distance Winner,” another dark, prickly chronicle of a difficult love headed south. “Don’t try to change them / You never will,” she sings, seemingly to the face in the mirror. A nice electric solo in the third minute adds intensity to an otherwise too-familiar tune; it sounds like Buckingham, though Waddy Wachtel is also credited on guitars.
“Don’t Let Me Down Again” is a Buckingham number with the same kind of steady gallop as Rumours’ “Second Hand News” and fiery, prominent lead guitar. It’s interesting to note how often both songwriters choose to play the victim. That said, the guitar work is stellar and the song has a strong push, certainly moreso than on the following “Django,” a brief acoustic instrumental cover that feels like filler.
Nicks returns for her “Races Are Run,” a mid-tempo lament that feels like a reflection of the competitive tension in their musical/romantic partnership: “Races are run / Some people win / Some people always have to lose.” It feels whiny, though the magic is still there when they harmonize at the chorus. If only some of that magic carried into “Lola (My Love)” a dopey, leering blues jam in which Buckingham declares his hot-blooded woman “Sure knows how to treat her man.” It’s a boys-club novelty that never should have made it out of the studio.
Closer “Frozen Love”—the one Nicks-Buckingham co-write on the album—is an extended seven-minute number that’s the best thing here. Buckingham takes the initial lead vocal over a complex acoustic riff, before Nicks enters and they proceed in unison until she takes the second verse. “You are not happy, but what is love?” she sings on this darkly melodic number before they go into a lengthy mid-song breakdown/buildup that starts acoustic, then billows with strings and intensifies further, eventually resolving back to the chorus. Its tones and shifting moods, if not the music itself, suggest “The Chain.”
Buckingham Nicks—or should that be Nicks & Buckingham?—is an absorbing listen mostly for the context it occupies and the clues its grooves contain about the future. As a set of tunes, it’s decidedly mediocre, with highs (“Frozen Love”), lows (“Lola”) and a middle ground of tracks that are solid enough, yet pale in comparison to what both artists would achieve in the years ahead. All that said, the fact remains that, if you’re a fan of either of these artists and/or of the classic Fleetwood Mac lineup, you need this album to complete the story.