The most avid fans of Stevie Nicks love her with an ardor that verges on supplication, as if the singer alone has the answers to life's mysteries.
Nicks tacitly acknowledges that role.
There's always been a touch of the mystic about Nicks. Ever since she swathed herself in black chiffon and sang about benevolent witches and gold dust women with Fleetwood Mac, then embarked on a spotty solo career, she has maintained a chilly inscrutability that's kept her fans intrigued. Her voice, never the most reliable instrument, wavered listlessly at times, and her polite, nine-piece group couldn't provide her with the punch she needed to make the material soar. Still, Nicks' enthusiasm was just enough to compensate for the evening's ragged edges.