One of the biggest issues when it comes to going to see a performer we really love and admire is always the fear of disappointment. In some way not dissimilar to the lightly-treaded road to love, music lovers tip-toe softly against the hope of sheer joy in the wake of certain performances. Don't expect much, don't get disappointed. Don't assume it will be as incredible as you want it to be, and chances are you won't walk away feeling some sort of loss.

For us, the chance to see Buckingham perform at Hogg in support of his latest album, Under the Skin, was this sort of combination of elation and debilitating fear. On the one hand, it's quite possible this could be our only chance to see the so-called Godfather of Indie Rock (don't believe us, go listen to Tusk and then pretend it came out in 2005, you'll see) and there's no way we're not going to be there. On the other hand, if it's not the capitulation of a short lifetime's worth of anticipation, we think we're in trouble.

But like all good things that in some way deny their own explanations, Buckingham nearly outdid himself. On a soft-lit stage surrounded by his caravan of guitars, he did indeed, song by song, kick our ass. It was clear just moments into his performance that it wasn't just a performance, it was the amalgamation of his lifetime's worth of songwriting and hopefulness. Buckingham is, without a doubt, the consummate performer. Equal parts thinly veiled egotism and sincerity, he manages to astound and elate with the ease of a new old love. In one moment quietly emotional during "Save Me a Place", the next moment red-faced and frenetic during a twelve minute version of "So Afraid", he really could do no wrong.

Photo by Kevin Scanlon

The set list was pretty spot-on, too. The selections from his solo catalog were all favorites, never once feeling like an interruption of the old folks' (and our) hopes for more Fleetwood Mac songs. That being said, the impressive thing about the set list, aside from it being a nice blend of old and new, was its cohesion. It's not like going to see your average famous band member turned solo, filling a concert hall with people waiting to hear 20 year old songs in between present-day bore-a-thons: Buckingham's newest album is (despite being a pretty stripped down work, comparatively) just as Lindsey as the cocaine-soaked epics of Rumours and Tusk. We dare say that someone totally unfamiliar with the catalog wouldn't be able to pick which tunes were 20 years old against those that were 2. This is just the sort of thing that makes him a visionary and inspiration to musicians and music lovers everywhere: the songs he wrote back then have stood the test of time (and a wealth of reformations), and the new songs function as representations of a more grown-up performer, but don't at all come off like retirement home rock n roll.

Aside from all of that, seeing Lindsey Buckingham is an exercise in keeping sane. Here's a guy who doesn't just play guitar, he masters it in every single song he plays. The acoustics in Hogg were perfect for him, his vocals and guitars resounding like deep echoes, not unlike his production style: even a single voice and an acoustic guitar resonate like bass pedals in a church service. The best examples of this undoubtedly occurred during "Big Love" and "Trouble".

He didn't disappoint the older, more Merlot-inclined members of the audience, either. As we sipped our beer and wrapped wet knuckles around our copies of Buckingham Nicks, the sport coat crowd gingerly hooted and hollered along with "Go Your Own Way" and a pretty inspiring (considering how bare his backing band was, no traditional drum kit in sight, never mind a gong) "Tusk". Towards the end of his set, particularly during the encore, the crowd seemed to finally be comfortable enough in their joy to really let it out: we leaned against the stage, inches away from his feet and 'woo'd and 'yeah'd and 'Lindsey!'d with the best (and loudest) of them, to his clear delight.

At the end of the night, we wandered in a daze out on to the sidewalks of campus, smiling and squeezing and grinning at each other like little children, all of us. We stood and talked to grandparents, parents and teenagers like we'd known them for years, envied each other's stories and memories, and waved goodbye as if we'd all left a reunion -- slowly working our way back to vehicles like a moving assembly of anxious teenage goodnight kisses, thrilled with our most immediate memories and too impatient for the next.