EDITORIAL: DON’T NIX NICKS

Connor Harlan, Editor-in-Chief

Wanna learn how to infuriate me? A quick way to do so is respond to the question “Do you like Fleetwood Mac?” with this, “Yeah! I love Stevie Nicks!” Yes, Stevie Nicks is a member of seminal pop-rock outfit Fleetwood Mac, but her role in the band’s music is blown out of proportion to the nth degree. Stevie Nicks is a brilliant musician, but she isn’t the brain of Fleetwood Mac. While you can’t pin down a sole member of the group that leads, you could argue that the compositions would be nothing without the musical mastery as well studio trickery of lead guitarist Lindsey Buckingham. While I don’t want to overstate her role in the group, she has always made her mark in a unique way. While I find Buckingham’s compositions to be experimental, they’re also heavily accessible, a quality that makes the songs into masterful pop recordings. But Nicks writes songs in a very different way. Excluding the hits “Landslide” and “Dreams,” Nicks writes tracks that border on epic dirge-like poems. A prime example would be “Sara,” the six-minute centerpiece of the group’s 1979 album “Tusk.” “Sara” seems to have almost no pop sensibility to it, as there are no defined choruses, verses, or even a bridge. It’s just a winding recitation that carries an eerie aura around it. Stevie’s meandering about her own tracks also provides a home to some of the most poignant love songs ever written. “Sisters of the Moon” is a pain-laden ballad with a much darker tone than the aforementioned tracks. The lyrics cryptically detail an unfaithful partner (presumably Lindsey Buckingham) engaging in debauchery on the streets of big cities. This type of vulnerability sets apart her usual bravado and assertive attitude with anger and sadness. Of course, no one can talk about Stevie Nicks without giving credit to her beautiful hit, “Dreams.” The track can be considered a pop landmark, as its simple two chord structure sets the stage for Nicks’ brilliant singing and lyrical styling. Sadly, her solo career pinned her to the worst pitfall that a female can fall into: objectification. Stevie became synonymous with a sex symbol, and her brilliant tracks were belittled to mere radio fodder courtesy of the macho-male talent of the nineteen eighties.