![]() In Your Dreams includes two such valentines: “Moonlight (A Vampire’s Dream)” and “Wide Sargasso Sea.” The second is self-explanatory. ![]() She’s the girlfriend - platonic and erotic - about whom we are embarrassed yet looms larger in the memory as the years pass and embarrassment ripens to affection. She understands their fantasies even when they look absurd to the rest of us - and forces us to reexamine our prejudices. She writes for and to the Hayley Williams, Taylor Swifts, and Ashlee Simpsons of the world: the current ones recording music and the anonymous ones scribbling poetry in math class. Joe Walsh, Don Henley, and other relatives of the Accipitridae family may constitute her ideal of manhood, and she has never learned much about chords beyond a couple of arpeggiated ones on the piano, but I forgive her because she’s the only female singer-songwriter devoted to the third person singular, even if those characters are but shadowy simulacra of the Gold Dust Woman. ![]() For an artist who’s been called a mooncalf by a rockcrit fan and whose plebeian fans do her no favors by pledging all manner of unicorn and sub-Druid kitsch to her godhead, this is worth a mention. ![]() Although Stevie Nicks’ In Your Dreams isn’t distinguished enough for a full review (Dave Stewart, please retire and use your royalties to purchase new sunglasses), I’m touched by one revelation that’s hardly new but more noteworthy in 2011 than ever: Nicks’ empathy for young women remains intact. ![]()
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