#11: Stevie Nicks
Stevie didn’t just walk onto the stage—she floated, wrapped in shawls and moonlight. As Fleetwood Mac’s enchantress and solo sorceress, her voice cracked like firewood and whispered like secrets. Rhiannon, Edge of Seventeen, Landslide—these weren’t just songs, they were spells, each syllable wrapped in mysticism and memory.

She made vulnerability feel mystical and strength sound haunted. Her lyrics read like diaries left under a full moon. And that rasp? It’s the sound of a life lived on the edge of art and ache. Nicks isn’t just rock’s high priestess—she’s the spirit keeping the candle burning in every witchy soul.