Stevie Nicks, the songstress witch that inspired a million mid-2000s Coachella lewks (seriously, she really missed an opportunity to create a cheap line of shawls and lace-up bodice dresses modeled by Vanessa Hudgens for Target before the festival style switched to oversize 80s neon t-shirts) was recently inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the second time. While there are 22 men who have been given the honor, Stevie is the the first woman to have been selected twice; the first time for being Head Witch in Charge (sorry, Christine McVie) of Fleetwood Mac and this time as a solo artist.
Since 2019 is a take no prisoners grab the dirt bags by the balls kind of year, Stevie is HERE for the honor and gave an interview with Rolling Stone that lets us into some of the nuances of her enchantress magic, and yes, it’s just as good as you would expect from the ethereal feathered hair sorceress that is Stevie Nicks.
Any Stevie Nicks interview is basically a peek into the Vaseline smeared camera lens of the cocaine 70s and Renaissance Faire-inspired fashion, and the Rolling Stone interview reads like a continuation of this “Gold Dust Woman” fantasy novel.
On being 70 years old and still being able to do the 1970s version of the current day “popping that pussy” on stage, aka “the splits“:
I tell myself, “Do it now, because you’re spry, you’re in good shape, you can still do the splits, you can still dance onstage and wear a short skirt and high six-inch heels.”
On necromancy and her tendency to morph into a mythological animal when calling upon the Spirit of the recently deceased God of Purple magic, Prince Rogers Nelson, whose “Little Red Corvette” was the inspiration for “Stand Back“:
But you know, I feel like Prince is with me. When I’m nervous, I’ll talk to Prince. In my solo act, when I do “Moonlight,” I wear this white wolfy coat — I put this coat on and I try to transform into a Dire Wolf from Game of Thrones. And before I go on, I always say, “Walk with me, Prince.”
On her, no big deal, temperature controlled collection of shawls and how they will inform the story of her life and surely create a riot of tattered leather and lace among her female family members when she is gone:
I have my shawl vault — they’re all in temperature-controlled storage. I have these huge red cases Fleetwood Mac bought, all the way back in 1975 — my clothes are saved in these cases. All my vintage stuff is protected for all my little goddaughters and nieces. I’m trying to give my shawls away — but there’s thousands of them. If I ever write my life story, maybe that should be the name of my book: There’s Enough Shawls to Go Around.
On how she believes that technology is killing romance, which is why, even though she is currently happily single, she doesn’t own a computer and still uses a flip phone:
I like my flip phone. But I don’t like what the Internet has done to people and I don’t like the fact that it’s nailed romance to the wall. I think it’s hard for people to find love these days. Girls, don’t take it personally. It’s not you — it’s the Internet. There has to be romance before there can be love and it’s very hard to find romance in this hardcore high-tech world. But if you do want to find romance? Throw away your fucking phone.
Girls and boys, listen to Stevie! If you can’t find true love, it’s not you, it’s the devil computer box in your hand! Throw away your fucking phone and the hoes and bros will come busting. That and a few dozen red candles burning on your love alter in conjunction with your nightly Dire Wolf incantations ought to do the trick. Listen to your Grand Aunt Stevie on this one.