🌄 THE MOUNTAIN SHE COULDN’T CLIMB
In 1973, Stevie Nicks sat alone in a friend’s empty Aspen apartment, watching the snow fall outside. Lindsey Buckingham had gone out skiing, and she was left with a borrowed guitar and a heart full of uncertainty. Their music career hadn’t taken off, they were running out of money, and her father had just offered to fly her back to Phoenix—to come home, to give it up.
At just 25, Stevie was facing the harshest truth of all: What if it never happened? What if this dream—this partnership with Lindsey—wasn’t going to carry her to the place she’d always imagined?
She picked up the guitar and began to write.
“I took my love, I took it down…”
🧭 WRITTEN FOR DAD, SUNG FOR EVERYONE
“Landslide” wasn’t written for the radio. It wasn’t crafted for stardom. It was a letter to her father, Jess Nicks—a Southern gentleman who believed in her even when her own faith wavered. He didn’t always understand the chaos of the music world, but he supported her quietly, offering a safety net she never wanted to use.
The lyrics spoke to that crossroad. To growing older, questioning your worth, staring down the idea of failure. “Can I handle the seasons of my life?” she asked—not just rhetorically, but honestly.
She later explained: “I was trying to figure out what I was going to do. I was so in love with Lindsey, and yet I knew our relationship was struggling. I was scared. So I wrote my feelings down.”
🌪️ A QUIET STORM INSIDE FLEETWOOD MAC
By the time “Landslide” appeared on Fleetwood Mac’s self-titled 1975 album, things had changed. Stevie and Lindsey had joined the band. The struggles of their early years turned into platinum albums and packed arenas.
But the ache in “Landslide” never left. In fact, its softness stood out in a band known for explosive emotions and public heartbreaks. While Rumours tore through the charts with tales of betrayal and pain, “Landslide” offered something else—vulnerability. A moment of pause.
Stevie never sang it the same way twice. Over the years, as she lost her father, as time softened the edges of old wounds, “Landslide” became a living thing. A song that aged with her. A mirror to her own journey.
👨👧 LOVE THAT TRANSCENDS FAME
For Jess Nicks, the song was always a source of pride. He was the kind of father who didn’t ask for the spotlight but stood tall in its shadow. When he passed in 2005, Stevie stopped performing “Landslide” for a while—it hurt too much. But eventually, she brought it back, turning each performance into a quiet tribute.
She often dedicated it to him with just a look upward, or a few soft words. And audiences—many of whom didn’t know the story—still wept. Because “Landslide” didn’t need context. Everyone has a mountain. Everyone has someone they’re afraid of losing.
🎤 THE SONG THAT WON’T LET GO
“Landslide” has been covered by The Smashing Pumpkins, Dixie Chicks (now The Chicks), and countless others. It’s one of those rare songs that transcends genre and generation, finding its way into weddings, funerals, coming-of-age moments, and quiet late-night drives.
But no one sings it like Stevie.
When she steps to the mic—now in her 70s, her voice more weathered but no less haunting—you feel the years behind it. You feel the little girl who didn’t want to go home, the woman who made it after all, and the daughter still singing to her dad.
🌙 THE SONG THAT MADE THE WORLD CRY
“Landslide” wasn’t a hit when it was first released. It took years for people to truly catch up to its quiet power. But once they did, it became something more than a song.
It became a companion.
For Stevie, it was always personal. But in giving it to the world, she unknowingly gave us a way to process our own falls and fears. She let us borrow her mountain for a while—and somehow, it made our own feel a little less steep.