SOD: Fleetwood Mac "Gypsy" (pt. 2)

Stevie Nicks has been getting a lot of face time in my world. Or maybe that's "ear time" really, because she's been heavily played by Mike and Kimi for the past year and a half. "Gypsy," has by far gotten the most attention, but Stevie's solo stuff and Fleetwood Mac in general have both gotten more than their due.

I'm not sure when it all started with Gypsy, but somewhere along the line it became an anthem of sorts. Whenever a select group of us are together, in an apartment, bar, or anywhere with a speaker, this song gets playtime. And never just a single play, we're talking multiple takes. And that could get annoying, but there's something so genuine and sentimental in the moment that never lets it get too old. We get oddly nostalgic about the present. Almost like we're aware that these are the good times, the glory days, the moments we'll look back on in twenty years and feel truly nostalgic about. The way Kimi will drop whatever she's doing to sway like Stevie Nicks on stage, or how Mike immediately closes his eyes, tilts his head back and belts out that all to familiar opening line:


        So I'm back, to the Velvet Underground, 
        Back to the floor, that I love
        To a room with some lace and paper flowers,
        Back to the gypsy that I was
        To the gypsy, that I was.


It really is a good song. And for us, at this point, we need only hear that single, opening note to know exactly when it's on. In those ensuing five minutes, life gets put on hold so we can all dance and sing, arms around shoulders, together. Yes, this sounds incredibly lame, but hey, sometimes what seems lame from the outside is a completely different experience when you're within.

I think we spend a large amount of time not doing what we really want to do, because we're afraid to let people see that side of us. That vulnerability of letting people know what we really want in our hearts can be scary. But once in a while, something happens where we can't help but expose ourselves. Once in a while a little gem like "Gypsy" will come on, and a wacky bunch of twenty-somethings like us will let those freak flags fly for a couple minutes. And the bar will point, stare, and snicker, but we won't care. We'll be on the inside, living in that moment that makes all other moments worth it. And when the song is over, we'll go back to our beers and conversation. The bar tender will look at us a little funny, but he'll still serve us, and in the end we'll all be a little happier and a little closer for it.