PenguinHead
04-14-2009, 07:33 PM
I've been clearing my files and found this review, but I'm not sure what magazine it came from.
At 46, Stevie Nicks is one of the few '70s icons who bridged the overindulgent '80s into the cynical '90s with her mystique intact, successfully resisting the temptation of commercial sell-outs and consumer-based nostalgia. As a matter of fact, she may be the only rock and roll survivor who did. As the former high-priestess of Fleetwood Mac and as a solo star in her own right, Nicks activily courted the role of romantic, rock and roll gypsy, so it comes as a surprise that on Street Angel, her first new album in five years, that she seems intent on deconstructing her own mythology with a collection of clear-headed, straight forward rockers.
Nicks' popularity has always been inherently tied to her generally myopic perspective: fictional heroines (Rhiannon, Sara), oblique rockers (Edge of 17), and sublime romance (Gypsy) --- a brave 'love it or leave it' sincerity that has earned her as many fans as detractors. The heady, intoxicatig pleasures of her Alice in Wonderland musings none withstanding --- the high has apparently worn off.
Street Angel deals with love, age, and sobriety head-on, thought she hasn't entirely abandoned her mystical allure. Her voice remains one of the most distinctive brays in rock and roll. Rich in form, her deep, invigorating vibrato commands that kind of authority that punctures the most questionable lyrics. The hit-bound single 'Maybe Love Will Change Your Mind' is a delirously catchy Fleetwood Mac throwback, a bright and sunny pop-rocker elevated by Nicks upbeat, chirpy vocal. She's at her strongest though, when she teams with Tom Petty & the Heartbreaker guitarist Mick Campbell for the emphatic country-tinged 'Kick It,' which 12-steps more that it two-steps, and the seductive, swirling 'Blue Denim.' And there is a certain, guilty pleasure in hearing Nicks rattle off the word 'amphetamines' during her cover of Bob Dylan's 'Just Like a Woman.' Her sole mis-step is the sluggish title track. She struggles with an awkward melody, sacrificing an interesting lyric about a homeless lover. But the idea that Nicks would even approach such a subject in revelatory. Unburdened with the trappings of the 'white-winged dove' and all those shawls, she can continue to soar on her own terms.
At 46, Stevie Nicks is one of the few '70s icons who bridged the overindulgent '80s into the cynical '90s with her mystique intact, successfully resisting the temptation of commercial sell-outs and consumer-based nostalgia. As a matter of fact, she may be the only rock and roll survivor who did. As the former high-priestess of Fleetwood Mac and as a solo star in her own right, Nicks activily courted the role of romantic, rock and roll gypsy, so it comes as a surprise that on Street Angel, her first new album in five years, that she seems intent on deconstructing her own mythology with a collection of clear-headed, straight forward rockers.
Nicks' popularity has always been inherently tied to her generally myopic perspective: fictional heroines (Rhiannon, Sara), oblique rockers (Edge of 17), and sublime romance (Gypsy) --- a brave 'love it or leave it' sincerity that has earned her as many fans as detractors. The heady, intoxicatig pleasures of her Alice in Wonderland musings none withstanding --- the high has apparently worn off.
Street Angel deals with love, age, and sobriety head-on, thought she hasn't entirely abandoned her mystical allure. Her voice remains one of the most distinctive brays in rock and roll. Rich in form, her deep, invigorating vibrato commands that kind of authority that punctures the most questionable lyrics. The hit-bound single 'Maybe Love Will Change Your Mind' is a delirously catchy Fleetwood Mac throwback, a bright and sunny pop-rocker elevated by Nicks upbeat, chirpy vocal. She's at her strongest though, when she teams with Tom Petty & the Heartbreaker guitarist Mick Campbell for the emphatic country-tinged 'Kick It,' which 12-steps more that it two-steps, and the seductive, swirling 'Blue Denim.' And there is a certain, guilty pleasure in hearing Nicks rattle off the word 'amphetamines' during her cover of Bob Dylan's 'Just Like a Woman.' Her sole mis-step is the sluggish title track. She struggles with an awkward melody, sacrificing an interesting lyric about a homeless lover. But the idea that Nicks would even approach such a subject in revelatory. Unburdened with the trappings of the 'white-winged dove' and all those shawls, she can continue to soar on her own terms.