Stevie Nicks Still Rocks

Attached to my door was a black and white picture of a blonde woman in full song. The ragged edge down the long side betrayed the fact that it had been torn out of a book. Next to my room, on my best friend's door was an equally cool looking David Bowie.

I was 18 years old. And staring me back in the face, on my study door was Stevie Nicks.

Three years earlier I was about to meet my younger brother in London and head back down with him to Sussex on the train. I had a little time to kill, so took a stroll to one of the big HMV stores that were commonplace. Stacked with all of the good stuff a teenager in the 80’s could desire. The important stuff like posters, T-shirts, VHS movies and music.

As I wandered the record and cassette aisles I listened to the music playing over the PA system. The track playing was a mix of rock and synth, filled with wild vocals. "Talk to Me". The singer hit hard. I stopped and began to smile. This was new to me but I definitely liked it. I had no idea who this was, but on a whim told myself that if the next song was good, I’d buy the album.

And then the echoey “I Can’t Wait” began to repeat as a melody grew ahead of the tidal wave of drum machine and percussion that started the second song. That was enough. I asked at the till and walked out with a cassette of my first Stevie Nicks Album. I would later sit in my room listening through without skipping, time and time again to dig deeply into this piece of music, whilst flicking through the cover artwork and song lyrics printed on the red white and black cassette inlay.

So I’d been a fan since 15. At 18 I now owned a fair number of her albums and in recognition of my musical obsession, when my teenage mates had nicked a book from the school library and torn out the pages of the artist that corresponded with each of us to stick on the door of our room, Stevie was mine.

This was the first gig I have been to where I did not have any alcohol to drink. Not even one small beer. I was clutching my £2.50 can of still water, standing as far forward as I could, waiting 3 hours before Stevie was due to come on stage at BST Hyde Park. Beer would have resulted in trips to the toilets. Trips to the toilets would have resulted in me losing my place near the front. So no beer, no toilet trips, place secure for the performance. My only concession to this had been to walk to the merchandise stand beforehand to bag a tour t-shirt. Steep at £40, but it had to be done.

It’s amazing how some music and artists accompany you through life. Their songs and albums mark out special events. Crushes, falling in love, split ups and heartbreak. Teenage feelings of isolation and no one understanding you. Stevie understood. Her off world lyrics, full of melancholy hit that nerve full on.

Bella Donna was my companion aged 17, quickly followed by The Wild Heart.

Listening to “Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You?” with tears in my eyes and a heavy soul, after my first real heartbreak was a comfort and also vessel to help get the sadness out. A purge. Every time I hear that melody I’m dragged back to those high emotion years of teendom.

The Other Side of the Mirror played out over CD in a college friend's Vauxhall as three of us took a trip from Salisbury in Wiltshire to Le Touquet in France to photograph motorcycle races in the sand dunes. That album sat next to me as I honed my skills as an aspiring photographer and film maker.

Trouble in Shangri-La sang to me through early adulthood. More calm, more measured but still melodic and big.

My last album to be bought slipped through the cracks of a grown up work life with family and responsibilities that made it harder to grab time to stop, sit and listen to an album, rather than pick random Spotify selected songs. But when I noticed In Your Dreams I was again compelled to buy it, stop, sit and listen to let the art wash over me.

Weirdly, I only really came to love Fleetwood Mac, via Stevie Nicks. An unusual timeline, but one that fitted me. Suddenly there was this whole other world of high value, crafted lyrics and massive melodies to dive into. And again, my love for the cool, stick thin, twanging accent of Tom Petty has Stevie Nicks to thank for the initial introduction. All the more poignant when the guitar riff of “Running Down a Dream” blasted out over the expectant Hyde Park crowd as the show began.

I’d almost been here before. Twice. Years ago I waited on a website, constantly clicking page refresh until I managed to get onto the ticket portal. Fleetwood Mac were coming to the UK. The whole of the group, even Christie McVie. A big tour with gigs near to me up North. I battled through the captcha’s and anxiety inducing timers telling me I could only hold the potential ticket for another 3 or 4 minutes. Success. Booked. I was off to the races.

Until something happened, illness, injury or similar. Two gigs on the tour cancelled last minute. Birmingham would be rescheduled. The fans would be OK. Manchester? Just cancelled. Guess which one I had booked? Refund. I was gutted.

That was the last chance I could have seen the complete band. Christie McVie sadly died a few years later.

Back in Hyde Park, after the encore, Harry Styles and Stevie Nicks sang Landslide. That beautiful Mac track. As the music flowed, behind them were images of Stevie and Christie projected on the stage. A slide-show of a life spent together. At the end, Stevie explained how this day would have been her friend’s birthday. That she dealt with grief by running back to the stage. How performing and feeling the love of the crowd carried her through this still very real sadness and loss.

I had never been to a concert where the artist left most of the audience crying, myself included.

Despite missing the opportunity to catch Fleetwood Mac and see Stevie live, I kept waiting and looking. A few years later I’d again sat tapping refresh on the laptop and succeeded in buying new tickets. And this time I had a different tack. See two musical heroes, a kind of buy one get one free opportunity. Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty. Could not be better.

Life got in the way. In the end, I couldn’t make the gig. Begrudgingly I sold my opportunity to another fan. I didn’t make a profit as ticket gouging is the lowest of the low. I was sad, but stoical. It would be OK. They’d tour again and that time would be different.

Except Tom Petty died.

The last time Stevie had played Hyde Park had been with Tom. As this evening continued her band paid their respects with "Free Fallin’". At the end, once again with Harry Styles taking on Tom’s part in “Stop Dragging My Heart Around” I paused to notice. To fully take it all in. Here I was with thousands and thousands of other fans immersing myself in a tune that has been with me nearly my whole life.

I had failed twice, but now, 40 years later I was submerged in so many emotions watching one of my musical heroes enchant an audience. She sang. She stopped to tell little stories and anecdotes. Rock Goddess Stevie turned into a charming, slightly cookie neighbour. Being smaller, more human. Reminding us of the power of friendship. Wanting to let us in, make us feel special. She disappeared backstage to return holding signature Stevie attire. The lacy, coloured shawls she often made her look.

“And this one is the actual shawl from the video of Rhiannon. It’s the first time I’ve worn it since.” she smiled. The crown erupted.

Wrapped around these small moments, was the music. Those songs that got into my head and stuck in my heart. As powerful as before. Delivered as perfectly as before. Sure the voice had aged, changed slightly but powered by the experience and stage craft of such an icon, the overall effect was still pure magic.

I went to Hyde Park to see Stevie Nicks this last Friday. It’s Monday now and I am still buzzing. I’m still finding tunes resurface, bringing with them more memories and moments from my life.

"So apart from gushing about finally meeting an idol, what is the point of this post Alastair? " you may well be asking.

Sometimes in life you have to be bold, slightly reckless. You have to jump before you’re ready. Hesitate too much and you can miss the final opportunity to experience amazing things in life. There will be a time when it’s too late.

Sometimes you just have to keep trying. I blew it twice. I wasn’t sure whether there would be another opportunity to see her live in concert. But I made it. And I feel lucky and grateful.

Sometimes you need to spurge on important things. I paid extra money to gain stage side "Gold" tickets. My natural sensible head made me doubt whether to do this. But in the end I was so glad I did. Why do something this anticipated halfheartedly?

See things live. If you love an artist, musician, actor, comedian, go and see them in real life. Get off the screens. Go and show up. Be there with other people. Be human, and organic and alive. Spend the money to do this. They will feel this as much as you. The energy goes both ways.

When you do this, experience it. Really experience it. Take it all in. Listen, smell, feel the air. By all means take a picture or short clip or two (as I did), but then put down the phone and just let it hit you in your eyes, ears and heart. Those memories will be far more valuable than a share on social media. They’ll be part of you. They’ll weave around the older ones, the times when the songs made you laugh or cry. They’ll keep good company. And your life will be better because of them.

And finally... I have to conclude, Stevie Nicks still rocks.