Do stop…
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[4.43]
Rebecca A. Gowns: Like a song that appears to you in a dream. It’s so thin and insubstantial, yet there’s something about it that I’m unable to shake. It’s an odd, haunting little tune, and not at all what I would have expected out of Buckingham and McVie — it’s not as polished, but it’s also strangely new, exciting in its rough edges. When the song ends, it’s as if you just woke up, trying to hold on to the lingering refrain. You scramble to write it down, but as pen hits the paper, you realize there’s nothing to remember, just an echoing guitar line that bounces between a few notes, endlessly.
[8]
Jonathan Bradley: Over a chime that emanates along lines of AM radio memory, Buckingham is as precise as ever, even as his singing voice has faded into a wisp. There’s no pathos in the frailty, though the nagging chorus searches for some, because he isn’t even fighting it: he and Christine McVie appear as an imprint of an imprint, like the indentation on notepaper left after sheets torn away. It’s too unsubstantial to flare into anything satisfying, but I find myself listening close to make out the parts that are missing.
[5]
Thomas Inskeep: Why is this, basically, a solo Buckingham song? I’ve not paid attention to solo Buckingham since 1984, and don’t plan to start now. That said, it’s a pretty solid song. But more McVie, please.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: Christine McVie is barely on this; you’re more likely to notice the bass of John McVie as redolent of the Fleetwood Mac lineage this fits into. The song is inert and Buckingham sounds tired, and given his form on “Big Love” from Tango in the Night I’d even put money on the female grunts in the middle bit being him as well.
[4]
Alfred Soto: Buckingham sings through his nose, plucks his delicate hooks over theoretical drums by Mick Fleetwood, whispers fortune cookie truisms, and pretends this venture is another one of his beloved solo albums recorded for cultists only. Meanwhile the rest of us press our ears against the speakers listening for Christine McVie.
[5]
Tim de Reuse: The dry, glassy mix sounds dead and unfinished; the wonky, filtered echoes that dominate the left channel during the chorus only accentuate the overblown vocal delivery; the composition as a whole is awkward and directionless, like it was automatically generated by Microsoft Songsmith.
[2]
Micha Cavaseno: Is that guitar supposed to sound like an old toy mimicking a car alarm? I know that Buckingham and McVie should sound aged, and with that coming weariness or a worn feeling. But frankly this record sounds downright defeated. The backing beat has a familiar pace to older Buckingham songs, but has little of the drive. Pretty sad to hear people who used to have a certain amount of chemistry make records with such dispassion.
[2]