Lindsey Buckingham
Law And Order
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In his own way, Lindsey Buckingham is a rock-ribbed traditionalist, but the tradition he valiantly and self-consciously upholds on his first solo album, Law and Order, isn't hallowed and funky like rockabilly or Cajun music. Buckingham's tradition is that of the big-time Hollywood wacko–perfectly symbolized by Brian Wilson in his sandbox – who creates, amid decadence and craziness, pop songs that are drenched in sweetly accessible innocence. It's the tradition of the copyright-royalties royalty whose fortunes have been made in three-minute bursts, a subculture as hermetic and all-American as the Mardi Gras Indians, albeit at the opposite end of the economic spectrum. At its
Read More best, it boasts its own wild-eyed naiveté. The idea of a grown man sitting in his basement singing "rah-ta-ta-ta" repeatedly into a microphone that cost more than my whole stereo–well, somehow there's a certain ironic charm. Of course, Buckingham has earned his playtime. With a little help from group chemistry, he turned flat-footed, middleweight Fleetwood Mac into a sparkling ubiquity (even if you don't own Fleetwood Mac or Rumours, it's guaranteed you know someone who does). An avowed Beach Boys fan, Buckingham probably coaxed his band mates into intricate harmonizing, and he definitely had a hand in giving Fleetwood Mac's records that everything-is-beautiful California gloss. Based on the evidence of Law and Order, however, Lindsey Buckingham's biggest contribution to Fleetwood Mac has been his unabashed fondness for pop music at its most hokey and hooky – not just sculpting vocal harmonies but carefully designing each phrase to tickle some pleasure center, no matter what the lyrics happen to say. Pop must come to him almost by reflex. Interestingly, Buckingham also has a rock & roll urge that shows itself in screaming guitar solos (as on Fleetwood Mac Live) and funny noises (all over Tusk). As Los Angeles archetypes go, Buckingham is definitely more Turtle than Eagle: at a certain point, he's happy to let his silliness conquer his perfectionism. And once Rumours went over the top, the artist apparently decided he could trust his reflexes and use loose ends as embellishments. So now that he's proved himself a pro, Lindsey Buckingham can make like a happy amateur. Except for one drum-and-bass track and a background vocal here and there, Law and Order is a one-man disc. If Buckingham needs to extend his range or technique, he utilizes obvious tape tricks, strictly on the up and up. The LP could be an extension of the star's tunes on Tusk: basement tapes with a million-dollar mix, while Buckingham and coproducer Richard Dashut try to hold back the giggles. Like the best die-hard popsters, Buckingham writes songs that seem both effortless and encyclopedic. "Love from Here, Love from There" second-lines as if the twenty-four-track machine were a New Orleans secret, and "Shadow of
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