Showing posts with label Don McLean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Don McLean. Show all posts

Monday, October 24, 2016

A Slice of American Pie



The title song from Don McLean's "American Pie," which hit the music stores on this day in 1971, is the song that everyone remembers from that album.

But my first exposure to the album was through my mother, who actually bought it because she liked the song "Vincent." I'm not even sure Mom had heard "American Pie" before she bought the album.

I know she didn't know the title of the song she liked. She thought the title was "Starry Starry Night" which was the opening line of the song — and a variation of the name of a painting by Vincent Van Gogh that she liked ("The Starry Night").

I wasn't with her when she bought the album, and I have often wondered how she managed to make the sales clerk understand which album she wanted — since she didn't know the name of the album or the correct name of the song she liked. I suppose she must have told the clerk that the first line was "Starry starry night," and the clerk must have been familiar with more than simply the title track. "Vincent" had been released as a single before Mom bought the album, and it fared pretty well — not quite as well as "American Pie" but pretty well, rising to #12 on the charts.

If that wasn't how her purchase unfolded, then Mom must have required the assistance of more than one clerk to locate the album she wanted.

I had heard the single "American Pie" — many times — before Mom bought the album. It was released as a single in November 1971, became a fixture on the radio, soared to #1 in 1972 and has been inspiring discussions about the meanings of its lyrics for decades. When it was reissued 20 years later it reached #12.

Most people have nothing but praise for it. The Recording Industry Association of America ranked it fifth on its list of the songs of the century. The only ones ahead of it were Judy Garland singing "Over the Rainbow," Bing Crosby crooning "White Christmas," Woody Guthrie singing "This Land Is Your Land," and Aretha Franklin belting out "Respect." That's pretty exclusive company.

While many people have discussed the song at length and sought to decipher all the clues in the lyrics, McLean has said little about it. "Sorry to leave you all on your own like this, but long ago I realized that songwriters should make their statements and move on, maintaining a dignified silence," he said. Fair enough.

Even though that song shares the name of the album, the song that comes to my mind first when I think of the album is "Vincent," inspired by the life and work of Van Gogh.

People have been praising the poetry of "American Pie" for many years, but the poetry of "Vincent" is easily its equal.

And while no other songs from the album were released as singles, any or all of them could have been.

"American Pie" was McLean's second album — and the peak of his career. That's pretty heady stuff for a man in his mid–20s.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

John Denver's 70th Birthday



"Heck, I'm no Henry Mancini or Michel Legrand. I just play the guitar and write songs."

John Denver (1943–1997)

If I had to name one popular recording artist who embodied the '70s, I would have to pick John Denver.

I'm sure there are '70s musical artists who were more commercially successful than Denver — Elton John, perhaps, or the Bee Gees or the Eagles — and any would probably be better representatives of the decade.

But Denver has always been the '70s to me. It's not so much his music — although that is part of it. It is more his fresh–faced, innocent (almost naive) look, I suppose.

That may be at odds with your mental image of the '70s, but that's the thing that people, especially those who weren't around then, need to understand. The '70s were contradictory years.

They were full of vulgar musical acts, the spiritual fathers of heavy metal, grunge and other extremist variations. They also had more innocent–appearing, wholesome performers than any decade other than the '50s.

John Denver was part of the latter. He wore his hair long, yes, but it was always combed and fashionable. He wore blue jeans like many of his contemporaries, but they were clean and fashionable. He wore colorful shirts, but they, too, were stylish. My grandmother couldn't tolerate most of the musicians I liked — she thought they were "scraggly" — but she had no objection to John Denver. As far as she was concerned, he was a good–looking young guy with a nice voice who needed a haircut.

And, unlike most of the groups I liked, my grandmother could understand what Denver was singing.

My mother really liked Denver's music, and I acquired my fondness for his recordings from her. I guess you could describe much of his music as "folk music" — he started his professional career playing with folk groups in the 1960s — but that wasn't his only genre. He also wrote and played pop songs. He did perform mostly acoustic guitar — power guitar wasn't his style.

It didn't surprise me that Mom gravitated to Denver's music. Mom liked folk music. I think of Simon and Garfunkel most when I think of her — they were her favorites — but I also think of John Denver and Don McLean. In fact, I often listen to Simon and Garfunkel when I go to the cemetery to visit Mom's grave, but I listened to John Denver the last time I went there. It seemed appropriate, given that his 70th birthday was coming up.

And now it is here.

Born Henry John Deutschendorf Jr. in Roswell, N.M., his first hit composition, "Leaving on a Jet Plane," actually was a hit for Peter, Paul and Mary, who made it the #1 hit on Billboard's Hot 100.

Most of his solo career was in the 1970s. That's when he released his biggest hits — "Take Me Home, Country Roads," "Rocky Mountain High," "Sunshine on My Shoulders."

In fact, John Denver was one of the first recording artists I ever saw perform in concert.

I've seen many concerts since. I wish could say that it was the greatest thing I ever saw, but, really, the only thing that was memorable about that concert for me was that it was one of my first.

My memory is that it was a low–key concert. No fireworks or explosions or anything like that. Modern concertgoers probably would be disappointed. I don't think there was even a big screen behind him showing images that were relevant to the songs he sang.

Just Denver playing the guitar and singing with the background musicians and singers making their contributions but never taking the spotlight unless invited to do so by Denver. It was Denver's show.

That makes it sound like he might have been some kind of micro manager or an obsessive type, doesn't it? I don't mean to imply that. I don't know what kind of personality he had. I never got the sense that Denver was a control freak or anything like that.

(At one time in my life, my favorite album was Denver's two–record concert album, "An Evening With John Denver." I have it now on CD — thanks to CD technology, it is even better with the addition of half a dozen tracks. It's a pretty good example of what Denver's concerts were like around the time I saw him.

(Speaking to the audience in that album, he encouraged them to "go wherever the music takes you — any time you feel like singing along, as always you're welcome to do that — please limit yourselves to the choruses of the songs and let me do the verses!")

It was well known that he was committed to humanitarian causes, which suggests a generous spirit. It was also known, although perhaps not as widely, that he had had problems with alcohol, which led to other problems in his life.

For some reason — and I don't know why this is so — I got the impression that the dovetailing of his career in the 1980s was connected to his alcohol abuse. Perhaps I read an article that said that.

But that may not have been the case. Perhaps, for whatever reason, people stopped paying attention to him. I know I did, but I don't think it had anything to do with his drinking. My interests changed.

It is true that Denver's best–known songs were recorded and released in the 1970s, but I thought that many of his most thoughtful, most insightful, most meaningful songs were products of the 1980s, when the spotlight seemed to have passed him by — songs like "Perhaps Love," which he recorded with Spanish tenor Placido Domingo, and "Love Again," which he recorded with French singer Sylvie Vartan.

In those later years, after both of his marriages had ended in divorce, including the one that had inspired the phenomenally popular ballad "Annie's Song" at the height of his popularity, his music seemed to speak of his yearning for love and his desire to understand it.

That's a pretty tall order for most of us.

On a Sunday in October in 1997, Denver perished when the private airplane he was piloting crashed in the Pacific Ocean.

(There is, in hindsight, a poignant moment early in that concert album in which Denver speaks of arriving in Los Angeles prior to the concert and going to the beach. "I felt very good," he says, "about being with the ocean again." Since his death, I have often wondered if he felt that same sense of exhilaration in the moments before he died.)

What would he have done in these last 16 years? I don't know. I imagine he would have continued to compose and record. Perhaps he would have found the love of his life and retreated into a comfortable retirement.

Just speculation, of course. Today is merely the 70th anniversary of Denver's birth. He isn't celebrating his birthday. He is no longer living.

But it is beyond dispute that his influence continues to be felt. A few years ago, the Colorado legislature made "Rocky Mountain High" one of two state songs.

And I still hear his music on the radio. Not as often as I once did but more often than you might think.

Perhaps, in a way, he does still live.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Musings



Last week, I wrote about a gift card an old friend gave me for Christmas — and how I used part of it to get the CD of Don McLean's "American Pie" album.

I've been listening to that CD a lot. It was one of my mother's favorite albums when I was a child, and it brings back memories of that time in my life. But I've learned, as I have listened to it in recent days, that it has a lot to say to me at this time in my life.

I suppose this goes without saying, but there are things I understand now that I didn't understand when I was 10.

I got the album because I remember the title song and "Vincent," but I keep listening to it because of songs I have been rediscovering, songs I heard from time to time when I was a boy and my mother played the record from start to finish. She loved "American Pie" and "Vincent," and there were times when she would just play those songs. But sometimes she let the album play all the way through so hearing those other songs revives long dormant memories.

Songs like "Empty Chairs."

That song conjures up memories of things that hadn't yet happened in my life when I first heard it, but they are significant now. Mostly, I guess it reinforces how unprepared I have often been when things happened.

Like memories of my first real love and how crushed I was when she left me. It was something my teenage mind had not anticipated. I don't know why. But McLean captures the feeling in his refrain:
"And I wonder if you know
That I never understood
That although you said you'd go
Until you did I never thought you would."

If time travel was possible, I would like to go back and try to explain that to her. I would try to tell her how shocked I was. Maybe it would help her to understand why I sometimes said and did things that hurt her.

I was trying to deal with my own hurt.

At the same time, "Empty Chairs" brings back memories of Mom in ways "American Pie" and "Vincent" never could. "American Pie" and "Vincent" remind me of her when I was growing up, but "Empty Chairs" gives me a perspective I didn't have when the album was new, I was a child and my mother was in the prime of her life.

I don't know why, but until the day my mother died, it never occurred to me that a time would come when she would be gone. It should have, I guess. I have many friends who have lost a parent; some of my friends have lost both parents. Even when they have lost a parent unexpectedly — as I did — they've all seemed to be better prepared than I was. And there's a part of "Empty Chairs" that reminds me of that time, when I felt like I had been caught flat–footed and unaware.

It isn't really a song about the loss of a parent. It's more a song of regret over the loss of a lover. But that wasn't part of my personal experience when I was a child and Mom brought the album home for the first time.

There is a part of "Empty Chairs" that always makes me think of Mom.
"Never thought the words you said were true
Never thought you said just what you meant
Never knew how much I needed you
Never thought you'd leave, until you went."

Those first two lines, in my mind, are an explanation for my reactions at times when she told me things. You know how kids can be. They look at their parents as prehistoric relics who have no clue how things operate in the real world.

Now, as an adult, I know she told me the truth and that she meant the things she said. I guess those lines from the song tap into my thoughts from when I was a child, when I perceived things differently than I do today.

There is another twist that I have encountered in this song — and more may yet emerge. It unleashes memories of other things from my childhood — the people (my grandparents, family friends, classmates) who are gone, the places (my hometown, the schools I have attended, the employers for whom I have worked) that have changed. It is not unusual for me to sit down in an evening, put on a CD and have memories from childhood to the present day dance through my mind.

They say that, as you are dying, you see your life before your very eyes. If that is true — and no one can tell me who lived long enough after the show began to inform any bystanders of it — it is likely to be a movie I have seen more than once. Sometimes this seems like the confirmation of something Mr. Leland said in "Citizen Kane." He said memory was "the greatest curse ever inflicted on the human race."

Maybe he was right. You could probably start quite a debate on that one observation. Well, that isn't my intention. It's a personal matter, I suppose, so let's leave it at that. But there is no getting around the fact that there are many times in life that are painful to recall. You can chalk that up to anything you like — ignorance, immaturity, inexperience. When you get right down to it, don't we all have things we would do differently if we could?
"Morning comes and morning goes with no regret
And evening brings the memories I can't forget
Empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs
And empty clothes that drape and fall on empty chairs."

We all have our regrets, whether it was the love that slipped through our fingers or the people and places we left behind. And it is also true — for most of us, I guess — that, even when we grow up, we still need our parents. And we miss them when they're gone.

I will always be grateful to Mom for the things she gave me, including my appreciation for the music of Don McLean. I will always miss her.

And I will always regret that the people who have come into my life after she left it never got to know her.

They'll never know what they missed.

Saturday, January 02, 2010

The Gift of Music



An old friend gave me an Amazon.com gift card for Christmas.

Now, let me explain something up front: I've always tried to use a gift card for something I think the giver might have chosen. OK, I haven't always succeeded at that, but I've done pretty well.

This holiday season, I've been thinking about my mother a lot. She was a big influence on me — the books I read, the movies I love, the music I listen to. Her fingerprints are all over my life.

Anyway, I've known this friend since my college days, and she was acquainted with my mother. Mom loved music, especially acoustic guitar, and my friend does, too. It really astonished me, when we knew each other in college, how similar their tastes were.

So I decided to use the gift card to get some CDs that remind me of Mom, and the first one that came to mind — Don McLean's "American Pie" — arrived today.

I vividly remember the day Mom picked me up at school after she had been to the record store to get "American Pie." She didn't get the single — the song was 8½ minutes on the LP, and it was divided up into two parts on the single. It is his signature song, and many people have tried to interpret its imagery over the years. McLean has confirmed some but not all, and he has said he prefers to let the song speak for itself.

The song was a huge hit when I was a child. For awhile, some radio stations played only part of it, but most played the entire recording. That isn't the kind of thing that happened very often in those days. For that matter, songs that are eight minutes long don't get played much on the radio today, either. But "American Pie" was the rare exception to the rule — like "Hey Jude" or "Layla."

Mom got the whole album, which seemed like a wild extravagance to me at the time, but it wasn't "American Pie" that drew her in. In fact, I'm not even sure if she had heard the song before she bought the album. She apparently was inspired to buy it because of another song — "Vincent," McLean's tribute to Vincent Van Gogh (although, at first, Mom thought she had gotten the wrong album because she believed the song's opening line, "Starry, starry night," was actually its title).

Well, those are the two songs that I have always remembered from that album, and those are the two that just about everyone would recognize. But the CD has reacquainted me with some really good songs I had forgotten about,

like "Till Tomorrow," a sensitive ballad that is probably as good as anything McLean has ever written.

It is followed on the album (after "Vincent") by a pensive tune, "Crossroads," of which I have a memory tugging at my brain of my mother humming when she played it on our stereo. And today, when I hear the lines, "They walk one road to set them free and find they've gone the wrong direction," it still has the power to take my breath away.

It is punctuated by a love song, "Winterwood," that reminds me of songs I used to hear on central Arkansas radio stations as a child. Perhaps it reflects McLean's influences, which included (in addition to Buddy Holly) Burl Ives, Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger.

After that, the wistful mood returns with "Empty Chairs," a song that reminds me of the John Denver and Simon and Garfunkel albums my mother liked to play when I was growing up.

I guess McLean needed a change of pace; hence, "Everybody Loves Me, Baby," which, in a way, sounds like an outtake of "American Pie" with lines like "Fortune has me well in hand, armies 'wait my command My gold lies in a foreign land buried deep beneath the sand."

The CD has a song, "Sister Fatima," that was dropped from the reissue that came out nearly a decade after the album was first released.

Perhaps it, along with "The Grave," was too political. I've heard Vietnam vets speak of how affected they were the first time they heard "The Grave."

The album was capped by "Babylon," which actually wasn't written by McLean. It's a traditional tune with a McLean arrangement. It reminds me, in a way, of Crosby Stills Nash & Young singing "Find the Cost of Freedom."

Well, that's where the album that Mom had ended. And this is one of the times when I regret that Mom didn't live longer. The album was first released as a CD the year after she died, then, in 2003, a CD with two bonus tracks was released. The CD with the bonus tracks is the one I got, and it makes it seem like a brand–new recording.

I haven't been able to find videos of the bonus tracks, "Mother Nature" and "Aftermath," but the songs fit the mood of the rest of the album. It has kind of a somber quality, which is appropriate, I guess, for an album in which the most popular song repeatedly spoke of "the day the music died."

Well, 2010 is a good time to listen to this album and appreciate Don McLean's contribution to the culture. He will be 65 in October.