[EDITOR'S NOTE: It is advised that you now press PLAY, on the embeded video, below; to achieve the full multi-media experience, of this essay.]

So, I might’ve screwed-up my knee, again: Only this time I can blame neither Jody Watley, nor DJ Adam XII; not even the fabulous Sylvester who’d transported those of us, at Giorgio’s that long-ago night, to 1978.  No – this time, I have to take some of the responsibility; 16% give or take.  But I think it’s fair to say that the remaining 84% of the blame falls squarely at the platform-pirate-boot-clad feet of that Welsh witch, Stevie Nicks!

It was the last night, of my family’s recent holiday sojourn, to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, in beautiful Waikiki.  I was in my rooms, minding my own business, packing my suitcases, when - while flipping through the channels - I heard the hypnotic sounds of one of the most iconic drum tracks, of the '80s, “Stand Back” by Stevie Nicks.  But this was a televised Fleetwood Mac concert (the finale of Fleetwood Mac: Live in Boston (2004)), and I’ve often stated, as much as I love Nicks on her own, hearing her songs with the Mac is transcendent (and isn’t that the point of really great music and performances?).

It started-out innocuously enough, with one of the great two-and-a-half-minute drum-solo intros.  It’s Mick Fleetwood (perhaps the living embodiment of “cool” – as the producers of 1988’s The Running Man will gladly attest), and his “secret weapon,” percussionist Taku Hirano, his hands just going to town, in a sea of bongos.

During this crazy drum-sesh, I’d been bopping my head, and kinda grooving along with the music, as I packed my suitcases.  But then, around two-and-a-half minutes in, I realize that it’s “Stand Back” (a longtime favorite of mine), and I stop dealing with my luggage, and concentrate on taking a little dance break.  Nothing too vigorous, you understand; more concert-dancing than club-dancing. 

Then, at around three-and-a-half minutes, I started really getting into it, as Stevie'd just sung the first chorus.  It’s fast approaching her great twirling moment - and me without a fringed shawl (I’m usually so prepared)!  So, I did what anyone would do, in that situation…  I grabbed my hotel robe (a cute Frette number in white terrycloth, covered in fuchsia-and-white seersucker), dramatically slung it around my shoulders; and before I knew it, I was onstage, at The Jackie Factory’s annual Night of 1,000 Stevies (#ThousandStevies).  

Everything was still going great.  I hadn’t experienced any shortness of breath; I wasn’t seeing spots, and my knees felt fine.  Then, shortly after the five-minute mark, the twirling started.  Now like many a suburban gay youth, growing-up in the ‘70s (and I’m sure quite a few girls, as they were the actual target-market), I spent countless hours watching Lynda Carter, on Wonder Woman, twirl her way from workaday-attired Diana Prince, into the titular superhero-garbed Amazon.  So suffice it to say, I was no stranger, to a good twirl.  Sadly, I was always a bit disappointed whenever it failed to result in a bright flash (or, at least a wardrobe change).  I knew, for instance, that when twirling, it is a matter of picking a spot, on the wall, and flipping your head around.  Or at least, I thought I knew.

So, I’m twirling.  (“But I feel I need a little sympathy.”)  I’m picking my spot.  (“Stand back!”)  I’m whipping my head. (“Take me home.”)  I’m clinging onto that hotel bathrobe.  And I’m exhilarated. (“He said, ‘Why don’t you just take me home?’”)  And then I decided it might be detrimental to keep twirling (“Stand back!”), and that I should take a break, and sit down on the bed.  (“Why don’t you taaaaaaaaake me home?”)  Only, I over-spun, and missed the bed (“Stand back!”), resulting in my “sitting” on the rattan bench at the foot of the bed, (“Oo, well you could be standing in it.”); flipping over, and landing on the floor (“Stand Back!”), facing-up at the ceiling, my right leg draped over the bench. (“Ooo, well you could just stand-up in it.”)  I was out of breath and sore (“Stand back!”), but I was laughing so hard (“Ooo, well you could be standing in it.”), that it was totally worth every bruise and sore muscle I endured as a result.  (“Stand Back!”)

So, that’s my latest tale of woe.  Don’t worry, Stevie.  It was worth every minute of icing my knee; to experience that state of euphoria.  Now I know why you do it.  Twirl on, Stevie Nicks!  Twirl on!

Fleetwood Mac: On With The Show
MGM Grand Garden Arena | Las Vegas, NV
Saturday, April 11th
Click HERE for info

The Jackie Factory presents the 2015 Night of 1,000 Stevies
Irving Plaza | New York, NY
NOTS 25 Theme and Date TBA
Click HERE for into

Get into it!