Chicago, House of Blues Review

[michelej1]

Paste Magazine, 10-2-08

http://www.pastemagazine.com/tag/live_review

Gift Of Screws is Lindsey Buckingham's second solo album in two years following a nearly 15-year gap, and he didn't shy away from showcasing the new material at the House Of Blues on Thursday night, even if most of the attendees were likely expecting his Fleetwood Mac hits (and even if many minds were perhaps preoccupied by the concurrent Cubs playoff game and VP debates, no doubt to blame for the less-than-capacity crowd).

As leader of Fleetwood Mac, Lindsey Buckingham sold millions of records, but has seen less commercial success on his own. Artistically, though, his solo work has never really struck a wrong note, and all of his records have been exceedingly adventurous. Still, at this point one must assume his cult solo status comes largely by choice: He could easily fit most of his solo tracks to suit Fleetwood Mac, and has in the past. Indeed, much of Gift Of Screws dates back to the time when Fleetwood Mac's Say You Will convinced Buckingham to sideline his solo career and cannibalize several works in progress for the sake of the group.

Still, in a live setting, the likes of "Love Runs Deeper" and the new album's title track proved to be energized rockers with the rough edges left thankfully intact (as much as the control-freak in Buckingham leaves any edges rough). The latter was deliriously unhinged and the former easily on par with past Buckingham pop nuggets such as "Go Insane" and "Trouble," performed that night back-to-back. When Buckingham did dip into the Mac catalog, he chose the unlikely avenue of "Tusk" and "I Know I'm Not Wrong" rather than the most obvious songs-- though he eventually did some of those, too, including "Never Going Back Again" through the crowd-pleasing "World Turning" and "Go Your Own Way."

Throughout the night, Buckingham once again affirmed his guitar hero status, his idiosyncratic finger-picking style one of the many things that set his go-for-broke solos apart from the usual suspects. Though he demonstrated flash to spare, watching him play was akin to watching someone weave, his fingers gracefully dancing across and around the strings with an ease sometimes at odds with the jagged sonic shrapnel coming from his instrument. Buckingham could likely afford to add an extra player or two to the tried-and-true trio that has been accompanying him as of late, but the quartet did remarkably well with his equally composed and crazy arrangements-- frenetic, fussy and just as often beautiful in one fell swoop.

[gretchen]

Thanks for posting this! It was a wonderful evening!

[michelej1]

Windy City Times, October 10, 2008

http://www.windycitymediagroup.com/g....php?AID=19565

Bent Nights: Lindsey Buckingham
Special to the Online Edition of Windy City Times
by Vern Hester


When Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joined Fleetwood Mac in 1974, nobody could expect much. Doe-eyed, fresh-faced and hippiefied Buckingham/Nicks had already released an album that went nowhere while the Mac—a British blues band— was seemingly on its last legs. The success of Nicks' witchy Rhiannon caught everyone by surprise but the sleeper 1975 smash Fleetwood Mac prepared no one for the monster 1977 album Rumours. The rest is history ( including breakups, diva attitudes, drugs, divorce, infidelities, booze, jealousy, and an unbroken string of sellout tours and multi-platinum albums ) , but a distinct history nonetheless. In retrospect, no one has had the legs that the Mac has had, and now that Nicks' charm has curdled into schtick it's as plain as day how much Buckingham brought to the table of L.A. rock. After one listen to ‘79's Tusk or his out-there rave-ups on ‘80's Live, it was obvious that the man was a demented wizard or possessed by aliens from another galaxy ... or both.
Part ferocious bluesman, part nutty professor and part post-summer Beach Boy, Buckingham was the wild card that gave the Mac its idyosyncratic flavor and bite. While Nicks kept a higher profile, Buckingham—the other dominant personality in the band and, by far, the most creative—released solo albums of such wayward personality and oddball charisma that he seemed at times, well, nutty. Granted, Go Insane had the clicking heart of Oz's tin man, but Buckingham's studio tinkering took years and could only be called obsessive. ( If the idea of a grown man, albeit a very rich one, tapping out the percussion for a song with two pencils on a box of Kleenex on his bathroom floor with a $20,000 mircrophone dosen't strike you as “obsessive,” I don't know what will. ) As a result, there's a certain closed-in quality on his projects that feels airtight and joyless. A decade of happy matrimony and a brood of his own kids seem to have put some rosiness back in his cheeks and opened up his music by degrees.

His new Gift of Screws, like his four previous solo efforts, is bullish on personality, shot through with a punchy eccentricity, but surprisingly quirk free and emotionally direct. The tone of Screws is a regret-free wistfulness that sounds almost nostalgic. The opener, Great Day, is equal parts syncopated percussion and clenched vocals spiked with jagged guitar blasts. Love Runs Deeper and Gift of Screws have an even bigger assault—there's no way that the Mac could contain this fury. The obvious gem here is Did You Miss Me?—a lilting valentine of such fragmented aching that it sounds like the oncoming of autumn.

Buckingham's packed Oct. 2 show at House of Blues put Screws and all of his music in a different context. Without the safe confines of a cushy studio, Trouble, Did You Miss Me? and Big Love were more plaintive and earthbound. Mac staples Never Going Back Again and World Turning got reworked and turned on their heads—the latter even flipped backwards and almost unrecognizable. A positively fierce Tusk shook the rafters in a way that the Mac never could muster but I'm So Afraid tipped the show in another direction. Buckingham sank into it with a steady conviction, but where the Live version was a weighed-down snarling affair of shrieking pain and fury, his guitar solo here was nimble, fleet and even transcendent. Shorn of its danger and pain, he turned it into something almost hallucinatory and light.

If Buckingham can live through the uber-fame of the Mac's ongoing existence, live a new life and do it without the bitterness and artistic slop that tends to cling to rock megastars, then I guess there's hope for all of us.