Chicago Review Onstage, Stevie Nicks remains an original: a free-spirited blend of siren, gypsy, canyon queen and enchanted sorceress.

Review: Stevie Nicks’ musical legacy was in the room with her at the United Center on June 23, 2023

By Bob Gendron

Chicago Tribune

In the waning moments of her concert Friday at a rafters-packed United Center, Stevie Nicks sang about getting older. She echoed the sentiments in back-to-back lines of “Landslide,” a classic she has performed across six decades.

Yet as black-and-white pictures of Christine McVie — Nicks’ longtime Fleetwood Mac cohort and best friend who died last November — flashed on a curved projection screen behind her, the words took on added weight. Nicks, recognizing how circumstance forever changed the lyrical meaning, struck a decidedly submissive and reverent tone. The interpretive shift and photos of McVie weren’t the only reminders of time’s finite qualities during the 110-minute set.

Now 75, Nicks is in the victory-lap stretch of her long career. This July, she’ll be feted with a career-spanning box set documenting her solo work. The release (by Rhino) coincides with her current tour on which she’s appearing with Billy Joel for select stadium dates. These profile boosts follow a 2022 summer-fall trek that brought her to Ravinia, and her 2019 feat of becoming the first woman to be twice inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

The attention showered on Nicks in the past decade-plus seems overdue. Despite her distinguished role in Fleetwood Mac, she often stood in the shadows of male colleagues and dealt with the double standards of a chauvinistic era. Though her situation paralleled those faced by many female artists who traded in rock ‘n’ roll during the ‘70s and ‘80s, Nicks’ songwriting acumen, unique voice and inner strength helped transform her into an icon embraced by subsequent generations.

Her wide-ranging impact could be seen throughout the United Center crowd, which skewed younger — median age falling between late 30s and early 40s — than at most shows by baby boomers. Celebrating the singer’s trademark fashions, some fans arrived adorned in frilly jackets, wide-brimmed hats or chiffon shawls.

Dressed in black, Nicks wore a few signature accessories of her own. When performing “Bella Donna,” she modeled the original cape she was pictured wearing on the back cover of that title track’s 1981 LP and proudly boasted about its pristine condition. The old cape used for her 1983 synth-heavy single “Stand Back” also emerged but didn’t merit the same royal treatment. After noting its holes and repairs, Nicks tossed the garment aside like a dirty T-shirt ready for the laundry. It’s unclear if she realized the humor of her actions.

Amicable and sincere, Nicks appeared to dwell in her own universe. She came across less as a famous rock star and more as an eager storyteller. Talking a mile a minute, Nicks framed a majority of songs with introductions or outros. Her combination of personal histories and frank disclosures supplied context and color — not to mention trivia fodder. A prime example: Who knew she penned “Gold Dust Woman” after passing a street named Gold Dust Lane?

Nicks’ candor applied to matters lighthearted (the need for an album to have a hit single in order to get attention in the ‘80s; her tendency to go off on a tangent) and serious. In terms of the latter, after the final acoustic passages of the closing “Landslide” faded and the music stopped, she admitted she will one day discuss what it feels like to lose McVie. Nicks isn’t ready yet.

The singer also addressed her collaborative experience with Tom Petty, increased the heat on a rendition of their 1981 duet “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” and paid the late artist tribute with a well-meaning albeit flat cover of “Free Fallin’.” Another bygone great, Prince, received his due in the form of his picture being displayed during two songs. Nicks also punctuated the end of an invigorating version of “Edge of Seventeen” with a lyric from Prince’s “When Doves Cry.”

Backed by an ace band anchored by veteran guitarist Waddy Wachtel and drummer Drew Hester, Nicks sang with a sharpness that projected above the eight-piece support group. Her range is considerably lower from that of her heyday and proved most convincing on upbeat fare. Occasionally, Nicks’ voice betrayed her, turning pinched and nasally on upper-register passages. Two backing vocalists assisted with highs, choruses and extended notes.

Onstage, Nicks remains an original: a free-spirited blend of siren, gypsy, canyon queen and enchanted sorceress. With the longest strands of her hair nearly reaching her waist, and a mix of beads and ribbons lining her angled microphone stand, she gave the mysticism and dreams in her narratives visual reference points. Those extended to Nicks’ theatrical movements — outstretched arms, palms-up gestures, cape clutches, slow twirls, forward bends, head-in-hands signals, grandiose bows. For the finale of an epic “Gold Dust Woman,” she stood in front of an amplifier and worshipped distortion.

Though Nicks and company played just one song released in the last two decades, the present revealed itself in other ways. The collective’s folk-blues reading of Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” invoked themes of division, confrontation and paranoia fracturing the American landscape. “Fall From Grace” burned with an intensity that mirrored the courage, independence and outspokenness of a crop of younger, modern artists Nicks inspired.

Nothing, however, resonated with as much relevance as “Soldier’s Angel.” Concerned she might lose focus, Nicks read her explanation of the 2011 tune from a Teleprompter and apologized for doing so. Played as devastating images from the Russian invasion of Ukraine provided the backdrop, the song sounded a clarion call for righteousness, justice and democracy before concluding with an image of the Ukrainian flag.

The answer to the question Nicks has asked in another, more renowned song for decades — “Do you know how to pick up the pieces and go home?” — seldom seemed so uncertain or necessary.