Buckingham Nicks

Look, some records you just have to own. Not because of hype, but because they represent a genuine, lightning-in-a-bottle moment. For decades, Buckingham Nicks has been the white whale for serious collectors and music lovers alike—a phantom whispered about, traded on crummy bootlegs, a masterpiece held hostage by legal limbo. Well, the wait is over. And I’m telling you, right now, that is not a drill.

Forget what you know about the stadium-filling behemoth of Fleetwood Mac for a second. This, right here, is the genesis. That’s the raw, unfiltered blueprint. Recorded at the legendary Sound City with the master Keith Olsen at the board, this album is a document of two hungry, brilliant artists on the absolute precipice of stardom. The cover alone tells you everything: vulnerable, defiant, and completely intertwined. You can hear that same raw intimacy in the grooves.

And let’s talk about grooves. Rhino has gone back to the well, the source, the sacred ground: the original analog master tapes. Do you understand what that means? It means we’re not getting some digitized, compressed facsimile. We are getting the sound that Olsen and the duo laid down in 1973. We’re getting the full-bodied warmth, the startling dynamics, and the three-dimensional soundstage that made those Sound City recordings legendary. You’ll hear the delicate filigree of Lindsey’s acoustic fingerpicking on Crystal and the visceral, sun-baked electric crunch of Don’t Let Me Down Again as if you’re right there in the control room.

This isn’t just about the hits that would be re-recorded later. That is about hearing the songs in their purest, most potent form. The harmonies are so tight they sound like one voice, a sonic foreshadowing of the magic and turmoil to come. Buckingham’s guitar playing is a revelation—a dizzying mix of folk, rock, and something entirely his own. And Stevie… my god, this is her voice before the world tried to polish it, full of that untamed, mystical fire.

This album has been out of print for most of its 50-year life. Its absence created a legend that the music itself, thankfully, lives up to. It’s a cornerstone of the California sound, a vital piece of rock history that’s been missing from our shelves for far too long.

Now, it’s being presented on an Amazon Exclusive yellow vinyl. Aesthetically, it’s a beautiful nod to the sun-drenched era it came from. Sonically, if Rhino’s recent track record is anything to go by, we’re in for a quality pressing. The fact that this is already sitting at #5 in the CDs & Vinyl best sellers chart before it is even officially out tells you the demand is ravenous. People have been waiting a lifetime for this. To finally have it, sourced properly from the analog tapes, is something of a miracle.

Don’t be the person in ten years complaining about how you missed your chance when it was finally, finally available. That is more than a record; it’s a piece of history you can hold in your hands and place on your turntable. Secure your copy. You need to hear this.

The yellow vinyl reissue of “Buckingham Nicks” couldn’t arrive with better timing. This lost gem, recorded in 1973 at Sound City Studios, has existed as mythology for decades—whispered about by Fleetwood Mac devotees and record collectors but nearly impossible to obtain legally. Now glowing on yellow vinyl, the album reveals what Mick Fleetwood heard that fateful day when he visited Sound City and asked Lindsey Buckingham to join his band.

What makes this record essential isn’t just its historical significance as the prelude to mega-stardom. It’s the intimate portrait of two musicians finding their voices together, creating something distinctly different from what would follow. Stevie’s vocals haven’t yet acquired the mystical rasp that would define her later work—here, she’s clearer, more directly emotional. Lindsey’s guitar work shows the virtuosic fingerpicking that would later dazzle audiences, but in a more pastoral setting.

The album floats in a California haze that feels both timeless and firmly rooted in early ’70s Laurel Canyon. “Crystal” (which they’d later re-record with Fleetwood Mac) appears here in its original, more delicate form. “Don’t Let Me Down Again” struts with the confidence of musicians who know they’re good, even if the world hasn’t caught on yet.

I remember Keith Olsen, who produced this album, telling the story of how Stevie and Lindsey would sometimes sleep in Sound City’s studio when they couldn’t afford rent elsewhere. The hunger in their performance reflects that struggle—two artists with everything to prove and nowhere to go but up.

If you are drawn to origin stories, musical partnerships on the verge of explosion, or those brief moments when artists are concurrently formed and still forming, that is your record. The duo’s infamous cover photo—both naked from the waist up—caused controversy when released, but now reads as a statement of artistic vulnerability that matches the music inside.

For Fleetwood Mac completists, that is obviously essential listening. But there’s another audience who should seek this out: anyone interested in the California sound of the early ’70s. “Buckingham Nicks” sits comfortably alongside the first Eagles album, early Jackson Browne, and Joni Mitchell’s “Court and Spark”—music that captures a specific time and place when folk met rock and created something altogether new.

This isn’t just a curio or collector’s item—it’s a genuinely great record that got lost in the shuffle and deserves this resurrection. That it comes to us on luminous yellow vinyl feels appropriate for music that’s finally stepping into the light after decades in the shadows.