March 18, 2005

Stevie Nicks

Here's the announcement.

And below is a fairly accurate representation of what you’ll see on stage during that 4-night stand.


I have to lay down for a bit, with a cold rag over my forehead…
OK, I’ve come to.

If one dive bombs in reverse back to that very moment when she first donned a top hat to beef up her presentation of “Rhiannon,” then her Las Vegas Visitation doesn’t seem so absurd. She has masterfully and willingly played the vaudevillian wicca card, and not only encouraged this sort of worship, but depended on it to keep her afloat when she bottomed out in the 1990s.

When she finally pulled herself together, toned down the schtick, and even somehow mysteriously regained pieces of her previously ravaged voice, I grudgingly let go of decades worth of Stevie Hatin’.

And just like a white winged dove, sounds like Stevie singing:
PSYCHE!

The Caesars Palace president got it right when he said, “she is a perfect fit for The Colosseum.” I’m only pissed off that I caved in and gave her just enough benefit of the doubt that this news item comes as a shock to me. Oh, but not any more. The velvet gloves are off, and I’m spitting mad that Stevie Wayne Newton Nicks punked me!

Stand back…
Her and David Copperfield will be Dueling Dry Ice Queens!
Platform boots stomping through the dove shit on stage while tossing tiny tambourines to the audience as mementos, landing on tables draped with lace shawls.
A special guest appearance by Don Henley to blow coke up her …

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