Look What The Cat Dragged In: Stevie Nicks' Unlikely Collaboration

McKenna Ryan

Jul 12, 20225 min read

The 20th century was undoubtedly an era of expeditious change. From clothes to hairstyles to music, everything seemed to transform drastically with the passing of each decade. Crooners gave way to mods, mods to hippies, hippies to punks, and so on. If you didn’t keep up, you’d be left in the dust - especially in the music business. The 80s in particular became a burial ground for music idols of the 60s and 70s. Jefferson Airplane crashed and burned, Led Zeppelin looked more like the Hindenburg, and “The Who” became “the who?” It was survival of the fittest, and unless you were willing to yield to the trends while maintaining your integrity, you could kiss your career goodbye. There are few 70s artists who adapted to the 80s more effectively than Stevie Nicks.

Nicks had made her big break in the music industry in 1977 with the release of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours. With her kitchen scissor haircut, dripping sleeves, and roaring vocals, she won herself a spot in the hearts of millions. Fleetwood Mac soared into the charts and by 1979, they were selling out venues across the globe. The band’s folk-rock sound, however, would take a back seat to the post-punk and glam metal bands that surfaced in the 80s. Hippies became a thing of the past, especially to the budding youth who sought wild night-life and heavy rock music. To the teenagers driving the music market, Fleetwood Mac paled in comparison to Guns N’ Roses and Bon Jovi. The band’s tours became shorter, the time between their album releases became longer, and solo projects caused the band to go on hiatus, before eventually disbanding entirely after the long-awaited release of Tango in the Night in 1987.

Stevie Nicks was a 70s icon, but the 80s proved to be a challenge for her. Nicks’ debut solo album Bella Donna was released in ‘81 and was widely celebrated, even earning her the moniker “the Reigning Queen of Rock and Roll.” Her personal life, however, had taken a turn for the worse.

Stevie’s lifelong best friend, Robin, had been diagnosed with leukemia given three months to live. Nicks was crippled by the loss. Robin had been her guiding light and support system, her one source of stability in a world of uncertainty. Tormented by grief, Nicks felt she had no choice but to marry Robin’s widower and help raise the couple’s infant son. As her despair waned, she quickly realized she had made a mistake. The couple was divorced three months later. At the same time, Stevie had been heavily embroiled in a cocaine addiction. She finally quit when her doctors cautioned her that one more line could be her last.

Career-wise, however, Nicks had taken the 80s in stride. That decade, she released four albums total, and each one had been well received. Like a chameleon, she had adapted to her surroundings and embraced the 80s sound with open arms. Unlike many other 70s artists, Stevie remained afloat - in fact, she was a superstar.

By 1991, Nicks had chosen to begin work on a “best-of” album, compiling all her strongest work onto one record entitled Timespace. Now forty-three years old, Nicks was repeatedly urged by her record label and management team to collaborate with younger stars to reach a broader market. If she didn’t, they threatened, her career would be over.

Faced with the grim prospect of losing the career she'd fought so hard to attain, Nicks surrendered. She grudgingly agreed to work alongside two budding rock stars and record a song written by each of them. One of these artists was Jon Bon Jovi, who had composed the song “Sometimes It’s a Bitch.” Nicks detested the song. She hated being ordered to sing material that wasn’t authentic to her and was, reasonably, unexcited to collaborate with the other young artist: Bret Michaels.

The twenty-eight-year-old Poison frontman flew into Los Angeles from Calgary, directly after a performance at the Saddledome. In just a couple of days, he would have to fly back for performances in Vancouver and Toronto, but in the meantime, he was determined to make the most of this collaboration with a songwriting legend.

Michaels and Nicks were introduced to one another as they sat in a car, traveling along the Sunset Strip. The pair drove together to a small restaurant to get to know each other over dinner before getting to work. Despite their age gap, the two singers found a connection. They talked, drank, and laughed all evening, divulging stories from their rockstar lives for hours. They hardly noticed as the crowd trickled down until they were the only two left in the building. Their conversation was forced to a halt when the restaurant closed for the night.

Over the next two days, Michaels and Nicks would work on a song Michaels had written called “Love’s a Hard Game to Play.” They sat side by side in the studio, Nicks at her piano, Michaels with his guitar, and played with the lyrics and composition. They built the song up and broke it down before building it right back up again. Michaels watched excitedly as his song came to life. Stevie recorded her flawless vocals while Michaels produced the song himself to ensure it stayed true to his vision. He remained in the studio well into the night, recording guitar bits and creating a rough mix before finally calling it a day. He left the studio and wandered into the dark parking lot. It was eerily quiet for a night in Hollywood. Michaels strode towards his red Corvette, still reveling in spending the past two days with his songwriting hero, before he noticed someone rummaging through his vehicle.

The magic of his collaboration with Stevie dissipated instantly. Michaels asked the man to step away from his car. The man moved slowly, pupils so dilated that his irises appeared to be entirely black. He ignored Michaels’ repeated pleas and continued to dig through the car. Once again, Bret asked the man to please step away. The man turned around, swaying unsteadily and screaming repeatedly, “I’ll kill you! Get away from me!” His voice was low and rough, something out of the depths of hell. He swung his fists, flailing about as he charged towards Michaels and snapped the antenna off of the car.

Michaels offered the man money, trying to remain as tranquil as possible as the man staggered towards him until he had no choice but to defend himself. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he thwarted the man, sending him stumbling back to whatever hole he had climbed out of.

Michaels’ time with Stevie wasn’t corrupted by his horrifying encounter, however. Timespace was released shortly afterwards, and in the liner notes for “Love’s a Hard Game to Play,” Stevie wrote:

“This song was just brought to me barely 2 weeks ago by a most extraordinary young man. One of these men who has everything - beauty, sensitivity, warmth, and a love for life that I had not seen in a long time. I recorded his song, singing it for him to the best of my ability, hoping that the people would love the song as much as we loved doing it. A new friend, in this business, who asks for nothing but for me to be happy is a very rare thing. I hope he will remain my friend for a long time, because finding someone like him seldom happens in one’s lifetime. But when it does there is nothing like it. He was happy because I believed in him. And he has brought something back to me that I thought I had lost... my laughter.”