There are few artists left who can step onto a stage and immediately shift the air in a room. Stevie Nicks is one of them. At 76 years old, she carries with her not only the mythology of Fleetwood Mac and her own legendary solo career, but an energy that feels timeless—part mystic, part rock star, part storyteller. When she took the stage at Atlantic City’s Jim Whelan Boardwalk Hall on a cool October night, the crowd’s roar was one of both reverence and excitement. You could feel the gratitude in the room—this wasn’t just another concert; it was a gathering of generations paying homage to one of rock’s most enduring spirits.
The Opening Spark
The show began with a surprise choice: “Not Fade Away”, the Crickets classic that set the tone for the evening. Dressed in her signature black ensemble, with flowing chiffon layers and her golden tambourine sparkling under the lights, Stevie smiled as she launched into the song. Her voice—husky, commanding, familiar as an old friend—sounded vibrant and strong. It was a statement opener: this wasn’t going to be a night of melancholy nostalgia. It was going to be a celebration of rock ’n’ roll, resilience, and legacy.
Without pause, she slipped into “If Anyone Falls.” The 1983 hit still shimmers with that distinct ‘80s mysticism—synthy, emotional, and full of longing. The band, anchored by longtime guitarist Waddy Wachtel, gave it new life. Wachtel’s playing was crisp and fiery, perfectly complementing Stevie’s still-haunting vocals. When she sang, “If anyone falls in love, somewhere in the twilight, someone is calling,” her phrasing felt like an invocation—otherworldly and deeply human all at once.
Then came “Outside the Rain.” A staple of her solo shows, it unfolded like a dreamscape, building from a gentle sway to a full-blown emotional storm. The song transitioned seamlessly into “Dreams,” and the audience erupted. From the first soft thump of the drums to the iconic opening line—“Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom”—the entire crowd sang every word. Hearing “Dreams” live in 2025 felt like watching the past and present converge. The song has found new life in recent years with younger listeners, but in Atlantic City, it belonged to everyone—each lyric a shared memory.
Chemistry and Storytelling
One of the most striking things about a Stevie Nicks show is how she talks to the audience. She doesn’t just introduce songs; she tells stories—vivid, charming, often self-deprecating. Before “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around,” she recounted her first meeting with Tom Petty, describing how nervous she was when recording the duet. Her fondness for Petty radiated through the room. When she performed the song—duetting with her guitarist, who took Petty’s parts—it was joyful and bittersweet. You could see her eyes glisten a bit when the final chords faded.
From there, she took the audience on a new journey with “The Lighthouse.” One of her newer songs, it shimmered with that signature Nicks imagery—sailors, ghosts, the sea, and love lost and found. It was haunting and cinematic, proof that even this deep into her career, Stevie still writes with mystery and passion. The live arrangement, with subtle keys and rolling percussion, gave it an almost film-score grandeur.
Then came a breathtaking medley—“Wild Heart / Bella Donna.” The two songs, cornerstones of her solo legacy, blended into a seamless performance that was both reflective and transcendent. “Bella Donna,” in particular, felt like a hymn. The lyrics—“You can’t save me now, I’m in the sky”—carried a weight that only decades of living and loss can give. As she twirled slowly across the stage, her shawl catching the light, the audience cheered not just for the music, but for the woman herself—a survivor, a poet, a living symbol of endurance.
The Fire Builds
By mid-set, the energy in the room was electric. The band launched into “Stand Back,” and the hall exploded into motion. Stevie’s energy was infectious—she moved with that unmistakable, rhythmic grace that’s become her trademark. The synth line pulsed, the guitars cut sharp through the mix, and the crowd became a dance floor. She dedicated the song, as she often does, to Prince, whose spirit inspired it. “This one,” she said, “is for my friend, my teacher, my fellow dreamer.” The purple lights that bathed the stage during the song felt like a quiet nod to him.
Without missing a beat, she slowed things down for “Free Fallin’,” Tom Petty’s beloved anthem. This moment was pure heart. The screen behind her showed images of Petty, young and grinning, and the entire hall sang along softly. Stevie’s version of “Free Fallin’” has always been one of her most touching tributes—it’s wistful but full of gratitude, sung like a message sent across time.
Then came the spellbinding “Gold Dust Woman.” This was the performance that reminded everyone why she’s a legend. The song stretched past ten minutes, morphing into a trance-like journey of growls, whispers, and echoing guitar feedback. Stevie’s voice was fierce and raw, her movements deliberate and dramatic. As the song built to its climax, she let out a wail that brought chills through the hall. Gold dust swirled across the screen, lights flickered like embers, and for a moment, she was every version of herself—the young witchy poet of the ‘70s and the seasoned sorceress of 2025.
Moments of Reflection
After that intensity, Stevie gave the audience a gentle landing with “Gypsy.” “This one,” she said softly, “is about remembering who you were before the world told you who to be.” The crowd erupted with affection. “Gypsy” remains one of Fleetwood Mac’s most beautiful songs, and live, it felt like a shared prayer between artist and audience. She sang it with clarity and warmth, her voice gliding effortlessly through the familiar melody.
Then came the inevitable—and unforgettable—“Edge of Seventeen.” The signature white dove visuals appeared behind her, and the thundering guitar riff hit like a tidal wave. Waddy Wachtel’s playing was volcanic, driving the song into the rafters. Stevie took command of the stage, tambourine in hand, eyes closed, spinning slowly under the lights. The song built into a feverish crescendo, and when the drumbeat cut out, she stood center stage, breathing heavily, soaking in the applause. The crowd knew they were witnessing something historic.
The Encore: Nostalgia and Grace
After a brief pause, Stevie returned to the stage for the encore—two Fleetwood Mac classics that sent the audience into a final wave of emotion.
First was “Rhiannon.” The intro chords sent shivers through the room. Stevie’s voice, weathered yet still full of magic, gave the song new dimension. Her phrasing was slower, more deliberate, giving each line a sense of incantation. She turned the song into a dramatic ritual, raising her arms and closing her eyes as she sang, “She is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness.” The crowd swayed as if entranced. After nearly five decades, “Rhiannon” still feels alive—eternal, untamed, and utterly Stevie.
And then, the closing moment: “Landslide.” The hall fell silent except for the soft strum of the acoustic guitar. Stevie looked out over the crowd and said, “This song is for my dad, for my band, for all of you—for getting me here.” Her voice cracked just slightly on the line, “I’ve been afraid of changing,” and it felt like every person in the room held their breath. There were tears—real ones—from fans who had grown up with her music, who had seen their own lives mirrored in her words. The final chorus was sung by everyone in unison, a thousand voices echoing her truth. When the song ended, she stood still for a long moment, letting the applause wash over her. Then, with a simple wave and a soft smile, she walked off into the shadows.
The Band and the Atmosphere
The band was impeccable all night. Waddy Wachtel, Stevie’s right-hand man since the ‘70s, was on fire—his solos on “Edge of Seventeen” and “Stand Back” were pure electricity. The rhythm section gave every song depth and drive, and the backing vocalists filled out the harmonies beautifully.
The visuals were elegant but understated—golden lights, swirling smoke, dreamlike backdrops of moons, feathers, and deserts. Stevie doesn’t need theatrics; she is the spectacle. Her stage presence remains commanding but gentle. She moves less than she used to, but every gesture carries meaning. Even the way she twirled her shawl or leaned into a mic stand drew applause.
The crowd—spanning every age from teens in lace dresses to couples in their 60s—was rapt from the first note to the last. It felt more like a communion than a concert. There was laughter, singing, a few gasps during “Gold Dust Woman,” and a sense of gratitude that hung in the air long after she left the stage.
Setlist Recap
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Not Fade Away (The Crickets cover)
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If Anyone Falls
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Outside the Rain
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Dreams (Fleetwood Mac)
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Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around
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The Lighthouse
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Wild Heart / Bella Donna
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Stand Back
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Free Fallin’ (Tom Petty cover)
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Gold Dust Woman (Fleetwood Mac)
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Gypsy (Fleetwood Mac)
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Edge of Seventeen
Encore:
13. Rhiannon (Fleetwood Mac)
14. Landslide (Fleetwood Mac)
Final Thoughts
By the end of the night, it was clear that Stevie Nicks remains a singular force in music. Her voice might have aged, but it has gained something deeper—texture, gravitas, soul. She’s one of the rare artists who can make an arena feel intimate, who can bridge generations simply by being herself.
The Atlantic City crowd didn’t just witness a concert—they experienced a living history of rock and roll. Stevie delivered everything her fans hoped for: the hits, the stories, the witchy magic, and that unmistakable vulnerability that makes her human.
As the lights came up and the waves of applause faded, one truth lingered in the air: Stevie Nicks isn’t just a legend. She’s a reminder that beauty, resilience, and mystery can coexist—and that music, when it comes from the soul, truly never fades away.
Grade: B+