Nancy and Ann Wilson Performs “These Dreams” Edmonton – March 21, 2025
Under the lights of Edmonton’s Rogers Place on March 21, 2025, anticipation hung thick in the air. Fans packed the arena, many of them lifelong Heart followers, some bringing their daughters and sons to witness two icons of American rock. There was a reverence in the crowd — people weren’t just here for a concert, they were here for a memory in the making.
As the lights dimmed and the first chords rang out, the energy surged. Heart opened strong, with classics like “Magic Man” and “Kick It Out,” delivering their signature blend of heavy guitar and soaring vocals. Ann and Nancy Wilson, though older, had not lost their grip on the stage. Their presence was commanding, their chemistry undeniable, and their performance sharp as ever.
The real emotional peak arrived when Nancy walked forward with her acoustic guitar and began strumming the delicate intro to “These Dreams.” The crowd recognized it instantly. A quiet hush fell over the venue. Then Ann’s voice floated in — rich, haunting, full of history and heartache. It wasn’t just a performance. It felt like a prayer wrapped in melody.
Ann’s delivery was especially powerful considering the adversity she had recently faced. Performing with a broken elbow, she sang seated — but her voice showed no sign of fragility. Every note of “These Dreams” shimmered with strength. It was as though decades of pain and persistence poured through that microphone and washed over the crowd in waves.
The screen behind the sisters showed vintage photos of Heart’s early days — images of them in the 1970s, on tour buses, in small clubs, in recording studios. The visual journey added depth to the ballad, reminding the crowd that this wasn’t just a song. It was part of a long and winding legacy built through grit, harmony, and sisterhood.
After “These Dreams,” Nancy told the story behind the song. How it was originally offered to Stevie Nicks, who passed, and how Nancy — often the backup vocalist — stepped into the lead role. It became their first number one hit. That fact hit different in a live setting, especially with the audience realizing the full-circle magic of hearing it live from Nancy herself.
The setlist that night spanned decades. There were new songs too — deeper cuts from recent albums that still carried the Wilsons’ signature mix of poetry and punch. But the highlights were always the classics. “Crazy on You,” with its aggressive acoustic intro and hard rock explosion, was a reminder of just how ahead of their time they were.
Heart didn’t just play music — they told stories. Stories of a male-dominated industry that underestimated them. Stories of tours across war-torn cities in the ’80s. Stories of resilience, love, and reinvention. Every song became a chapter, every note a sentence in the memoir they continue to write, live on stage.
The audience, meanwhile, was electric. People cried during “Alone.” They sang every word to “Barracuda” like their lives depended on it. There was even a tribute mid-show to David Bowie, with a reimagined version of “Let’s Dance” that sent the arena into a dancing frenzy. It was unexpected — and unforgettable.
When they covered Led Zeppelin’s “The Ocean,” it wasn’t a gimmick. It was a reclaiming. After all, Heart has long been considered the spiritual daughters of Zeppelin, and Nancy’s guitar work channeled Jimmy Page’s fire without mimicry. It was reverent, yet entirely their own.
A standout moment came when Nancy performed a new instrumental piece dedicated to the late Eddie Van Halen. The screen behind her showed clips of Eddie shredding in the ’80s, while Nancy — visibly emotional — crafted a melodic tribute that felt deeply personal. The entire arena listened in near silence, fully absorbed.
Ann took a moment before the final encore to address the crowd directly. She spoke about aging in rock and how powerful it felt to still be here — not just surviving, but thriving. Her words were met with thunderous applause, a crowd full of people who had grown older with her and felt seen by her honesty.
The finale, of course, was “Barracuda.” The crowd lost their minds. The band stretched the intro, teasing the crowd, letting the tension build until the first downbeat hit like a bolt of lightning. People jumped, screamed, air-guitared, and lived out their teenage fantasies for five glorious minutes.
As the final note faded and the stage lights dimmed, Ann and Nancy stood together, arms raised. Their eyes scanned the crowd — not just fans, but fellow travelers through time. Edmonton gave them a standing ovation that seemed to go on forever.
In the end, “These Dreams” wasn’t just a song on the setlist. It was a symbol of what the Wilson sisters have endured and what they still stand for — heart, soul, and the power of music to carry us through decades, through pain, and into healing. And on that night in March 2025, Heart didn’t just perform. They reminded us why they still matter.
