Review: Bella Donna

Since her tenure with Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks has often been typecast—and sometimes disparaged—as the airy faerie, mystical twirly enchantress, the California girly girl of many shawls, black dresses and bizarre dreamlike melodies, the master of complex, impenetrable (at least to the casual listener) lyrics, often more prose-y than poesy. Certain Mac fans still loudly proclaim their preference for the classic pop  stylings of Christine McVie, who had a knack for coming up with about 1,000 ways to sing "I love you," most of them easily understood and readily hummable.

Well, I beg to differ. To me, the simplest—albeit most clichéd—way to break it down is this: Nicks was the John Lennon of Fleetwood Mac, McVie the Paul McCartney. (This leaves aside Lindsey Buckingham, who was something else again.) Nicks was the artist, McVie the master craftsman. Nicks was the challenge, McVie the crowd-pleaser. McVie was docile and relatively drama-free, Nicks was—to put it the way King Elvis might—"If you're looking for trouble, you've come to the right place." In short, Nicks' persona was messy, but when you looked at the historical spectrum of "women in rock," tremendously groundbreaking and exciting.

One thing she's never been is fragile. That was made abundantly clear early on in her sold-out concert at Foxwoods' MGM Grand Theater last Saturday night when she launched into a feral, take-no-prisoners version of her sometime collaborator Tom Petty's "You Wreck Me" that made his take on it sound wussy (she's probably the only person who should cover "American Girl"). It's 35 years since Nicks rock 'n' roll arrival with songs like "Rhiannon" and "Landslide," and a whole solo career has unfolded since then. At 62, her voice has lost some of its flexibility, but none of its tough, yearning ferocity. In her hands, even those two songs—which have rarely, if ever, left her set lists since 1975—seem eternally fresh, as if she's discovering something new each time she sings them.

This show marked the end of a six-date tour that was meant to be a stopgap: Nicks told the audience that although she had no new album to promote (there is one in the works for a summer 2011 release), she'd been offered the chance and encouraged by her manager to do a handful of live dates now, rather than later. As a result, this time out she was free to do the songs she really wanted to do. Some of her choices were inspired—a last chance power-drive through "Stand Back" that kicked off with a long, percussive intro led by drummer Jimmy Paxson Jr., and  welcome performances of a couple of lesser-known songs, "Sorcerer" and "Fall from Grace." Others seemed unwise, including a pro forma run through Led Zeppelin's "Rock 'n' Roll": She may be spunky enough for it, but the song really needs Robert Plant's gravity-free vocal gymnastics to seem more than ordinary. That being said, may Nicks always have longtime music director, former lover (subject of "If Anyone Falls") and the capo di tutti capi of L.A. guitarists, Waddy Wachtel, by her side. There's nothing he can't shred.

She'll definitely always have audience favorites like "Bella Donna," "Dreams" and the formidable "Edge of Seventeen," a paean to John Lennon that she now uses, in part, to hold court with her audience, who surge the stage at the opening notes for the chance of shaking her hand. The concert ended on a softer moment of grace, a stripped-down piano version of "Love Is," which appeared on Nicks' last solo album—2001's Welcome to Shangri-La—in an arrangement "I never liked," she said. It'll be back, updated, with next year's album. As, I hope, will Stevie.

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