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A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music used to make me smile And, I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance, and. Maybe they'd be happy for a while But, February made me shiver with every paper I'd deliver Bad news on the doorstep - I couldn't take one more step I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride Something touched me deep inside the day the music died So, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing. This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die Did you write the Book of Love and do you have faith in God, above? If the Bible tells you so Now, do you believe in Rock and Roll? Can music save your mortal soul? Can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you're in love with him, 'cause I saw you dancing in the gym You both kicked off your shoes - man, I dig those rhythm and blues I was a lonely, teenage broncin' buck with a pink carnation and a pickup truck, but. I knew I was out of luck the day the music died I started singing, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing. This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die Now, for ten years we've been on our own and moss grows fat on a Rolling Stone, but.
That's not how it used to be When the Jester sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean In a voice that came from you and me Oh, and while the King was looking down the Jester stole his thorny crown The courtroom was adjourned - no verdict was returned And, while Lenin read a book on Marx the quartet practiced in the park, and. We sang dirges in the dark the day the music died We were singing, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing. This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die Healter Skealter in the summer swelter - the Birds flew off with a fallout shelter Eight Miles High and falling fast It landed foul on the grass The players tried for a forward pass with the Jester on the sidelines in a cast Now, the halftime air was sweet perfume while the Sergeants played a marching tune We all got up to dance, oh, but we never got the chance 'Cause the players tried to take the field - the marching band refused to yield Do you recall what was revealed the day the music died? We started singing, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing. This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die And, there we were, all in one place - a generation Lost in Space With no time left to start again So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick - Jack Flash sat on a Candlestick, 'cause.
Fire is the Devil's only friend And, as I watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage No angel born in Hell could break that satan's spell And, as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite, I saw. Satan laughing with delight the day the music died He was singing, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing. This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die I met a girl who sang the Blues, and I asked her for some happy news She just smiled and turned away I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before, but. The man there said the music wouldn't play And, in the streets the children screamed, the lover's cried, and the poets dreamed, but. Not a word was spoken - the church bells all were broken And, the three men I admire most: the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, they.
Caught the last train for the coast the day the music died And, they were singing, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing. This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die They were singing, bye bye Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing.
This'll be the day that I die.
About American Pie Extract from The Don McLean Story: Killing Us Softly With His Songs by Copyright 2007 Starry Night Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction or translation of any part of this work without the permission of the copyright owner is unlawful. Used by permission.
“American Pie” is partly biographical and partly the story of America during the idealized 1950s and the bleaker 1960s. It was initially inspired by Don’s memories of being a paperboy in 1959 and learning of the death of Buddy Holly. “American Pie” presents an abstract story of McLean’s life from the mid-1950s until the end of the 1960s, and at the same time it represents the evolution of popular music and politics over these years, from the lightness of the 1950s to the darkness of the late 1960s, but metaphorically the song continues to evolve to the present time. It is not a nostalgia song. “American Pie” changes as America, itself, is changing. For McLean, the transition from the light innocence of childhood to the dark realities of adulthood began with the deaths of his father and Buddy Holly and culminated with the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963, which was the start of a more difficult time for America.
During this four year period, Don moved from an idyllic childhood, through the shock and harsh realities of his father’s death in 1961, to his decision, in 1964, to leave Villanova University to pursue his dream of becoming a professional singer. The 1950s were an era of happiness and affluence for the burgeoning American middle class. Americans had a feeling of optimism about their prospects for the future, and pride in their nation which had emerged victorious from World War II, setting the world free from the tyranny of Nazi Germany. Popular music mirrored society. Performers such as Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley, and Bill Haley and the Comets churned out feel-good records that matched the mood of the nation. Sinister forces such as communism were banished, and serious folk groups like the Weavers were being replaced by the beat poets who, as members of the intelligentsia, were excused their lack of optimism. The 1960s were the antithesis of the previous decade.
The exuberant simplicity of the 1950s was displaced by a much more volatile and politically charged atmosphere. People were asking questions. The cozy world of white middle class America was disturbed, as civil rights campaigners marched on Washington, D.C., and Martin Luther King Jr delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The following year saw the 1964 Civil Rights Act become law.
On the world stage, America’s leading super-power status was being challenged by the Soviet Union, and its military might was being tested by the Vietnamese. Even in music, America soon found itself overrun by a British invasion. The 1960s was a turbulent time for McLean’s generation. By 1971, America was still deeply troubled. The Vietnam War was out of control. The anti-war movement was gathering momentum and being listened to. On April 22, 1971, former naval officer, John Kerry, stated to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee: “In our opinion, and from our experience, there is nothing in South Vietnam, nothing which could happen that realistically threatens the United States of America.
And to attempt to justify the loss of one American life in Vietnam, Cambodia, or Laos by linking such loss to the preservation of freedom, which those misfits supposedly abuse, is to us the height of criminal hypocrisy, and it is that kind of hypocrisy which we feel has torn this country apart” Other events of the time, such as the successful launch of Apollo 14, did little to restore national pride. “American Pie,” in the opinion of the song’s producer, Ed Freeman, was the funeral oration for an era: “Without it, many of us would have been unable to grieve, achieve closure, and move on. Don saw that, and wrote the song that set us free. We should all be eternally grateful to him for that.” “American Pie” was one of the last songs McLean wrote for the American Pie album. He had started writing it in the gatehouse in Cold Spring, New York. Sitting in his office, aimlessly strumming the guitar, he started to think back to his childhood, the neighborhood where he grew up, and being a paper boy for the Standard Star. He remembered Buddy Holly.
He remembered the day he cut open the bundle of papers that had been deposited on the doorstep for him to deliver, and there, on the front page, was the story of the death of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper. It was a small column on the right hand side. He remembered being in shock while he delivered the papers on his route. He wrote: A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance And maybe they’d be happy for a while But February made me shiver, with every paper I’d deliver Bad news on the doorstep I couldn’t take one more step I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died. McLean would later write: “Of all the unique oddities of my career, I am perhaps proudest of the fact that I am forever linked with Buddy Holly.
I bet if you ask any guitar player, he will tell you that he looked at record jackets and guitar catalogs more than anything else while growing up and dreaming. I have heard it said that children dream in a different way than grown-ups. To them, the dreams they have for themselves are as real as reality is for grown-ups. With this in mind, I can say that Buddy was a huge part of my childhood dream.
Long before I decided how I would use music or what kind of artist I would be, Buddy was there. When I listened to his music, a mood overtook me which was both happy and sad, and I often looked at the record covers while the music played.
Buddy’s music is so musical. The number of great recordings he made in his very short life places him at or beyond the level of any musical artist in almost any category. Elvis never wrote songs, while Buddy composed a huge number.
In my opinion, looking back, no rock act, not the Beatles, not the Stones, nor anyone else, can top records like “Peggy Sue” or “Rave On.” They are rock mountains that nobody has climbed. The diversity of Buddy’s music is also profound. “Moondreams” and “True Love Ways” are musically as advanced as anything by the great popular composers. Gershwin or Berlin would have marveled at these compositions. His electric guitars were raw, but controlled like bullwhips. They jingle and jangle freely in “That’ll Be The Day” and “Oh Boy,” and they snake around in “Words of Love.” The Beatles and the Stones became the behemoths they are on the back of Buddy Holly and the records he made before anyone made records or wrote songs like his.
Aside from his geek image and his sudden and cruel death, his music is a wonder which still contains the potency of its original magic. Buddy was a genuine original.
He was a genius. Buddy’s death, for me, an impressionable thirteen year old, delivering papers, was an enormous tragedy. The cover photo of the posthumously released Buddy Holly Story and the Buddy Holly Story, Vol.
2, coupled with liner notes written by his widow, Maria, created a sense of grief which lived inside of me, until I was able to exorcize it with the opening verse of “American Pie.” Through my relationship with Buddy, I was able to discover my peculiar writing talent and, much to my amazement, help bring Buddy and his music back from the dead. In a sense, “American Pie” contains the spiritual connection to Buddy Holly which was always in me. It’s as if we both gave each other new life. Music is about many things which music critics and historians can discuss forever, but what I think interests an audience about any form of music is its excitement. Opera excites some people (not me). Rock is all about excitement on a sonic, as well a fashion and musical, level.
Pop music carries a kind of emotional impact, and, in its day, folk music had a political and intellectual excitement. I have tried, without really knowing it, to practice my craft in all these areas at once. Buddy Holly did the same thing without the politics.
Had he lived through the ‘60s, I’m sure he would have continued to grow and lead with music that was revelatory.” Two months went by before any further progress was made. Then one day, again in his Cold Spring gatehouse, and “from God knows where in my head,” McLean came up with the catchy chorus: So bye, bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee But the levee was dry And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye Singin’ this will be the day that I die, This will be the day that I die. In the thirty or so years since the chorus was written, the term “Miss American Pie” has come under close scrutiny. An urban legend grew up claiming that American Pie was the name of Buddy Holly’s plane that crashed, killing Buddy and his companions. In fact, there is no truth to the story. Buddy and his friends were in a chartered plane. Don McLean created the phrase “American Pie;” it did not exist before he wrote the song.
Like much of the song, McLean says the chorus is about America. “I saw the implication of America going bye-bye, since by 1971 we were a horribly divided country with tremendous anger being directed at the government over the Vietnam War, whether for or against it. Death was everywhere. Spin control had not been invented, and things had spun totally out of control.
Was America dying?
The music died because Buddy Holly merely wanted what every touring musician wants: to do laundry. Shoved into unheated buses on a “Winter Dance Party” tour in 1959, Holly — tired of rattling through the Midwest with dirty clothes — chartered a plane on Feb.
3 to fly from Clear Lake, Iowa, to Fargo, N.D., where he hoped he could make an appointment with a washing machine. Joining him on the plane were Ritchie Valens and, after future country star Waylon Jennings gave up his seat, J.P. Richardson, a.k.a. “the Big Bopper.” Taking off in bad weather with a pilot not certified to do so, killing everyone aboard. The toll was incalculable: The singers of “Peggy Sue” and “Come On Let’s Go” and “Donna” and “La Bamba” were dead. Holly was just 22; incredibly, Valens was just 17.
Rock and roll would never be the same. Thirteen years later, Don McLean wrote a song about this tragedy: “American Pie,” an 8½-minute epic with an iconic lyric about “the day the music died.” Now, the original 16-page working manuscript of the lyrics has been sold at auction for $1.2 million. “I thought it would be interesting as I reach age 70 to release this work product on the song American Pie so that anyone who might be interested will learn that this song was not a parlor game,” McLean said in ahead of the sale. “It was an indescribable photograph of America that I tried to capture in words and music.” That photograph was always a little bit blurry. At more than 800 words, the meaning of “American Pie” proved elusive even for a generation used to parsing inscrutable Bob Dylan and Beatles lyrics. McLean has said the song was inspired by the 1959 plane crash, but has been cagey about other details.
“People ask me if I left the lyrics open to ambiguity,” McLean said in an early interview, as. “Of course I did. I wanted to make a whole series of complex statements. The lyrics had to do with the state of society at the time.” But what state was that? It seemed like the song’s cast of characters — which include a jester, a king, a queen, good ol’ boys drinking whiskey and rye as well as “Miss American Pie” herself — were meant to represent real people.
The song includes references to Karl Marx; Vladimir Ilyich Lenin (or, more likely, John Lennon); the Fab Four; the Byrds; James Dean; Charles Manson; the Rolling Stones; the “widowed bride,” Jackie Kennedy; and the Vietnam War. Left: Don McLean in 1972. Right: McLean in Waterford, N.Y., in 1968. (Photos by AP) What does it all mean? Just what a song about the day the music died seems like it might be about: the end of the American Dream.
“Basically in ‘American Pie,’ things are heading in the wrong direction,” he told Christie’s, as. “It is becoming less idyllic. I don’t know whether you consider that wrong or right but it is a morality song in a sense.” As ideals of the 1960s turned into the cynicism of the 1970s, this feeling was widespread enough to send the song to No. “American Pie is the accessible farewell to the Fifties and Sixties,” Guardian music critic Alexis Petridis.
“Bob Dylan talked to the counterculture in dense, cryptic, apocalyptic terms. But Don McLean says similar ominous things in a pop language that a mainstream listener could understand.
The chorus is so good that it lets you wallow in the confusion and wistfulness of that moment, and be comforted at the same time. It’s bubblegum Dylan, really.” (Perhaps of note: Dylan’s manuscript of “Like a Rolling Stone” sold, besting McLean’s measly $1.2 million.) Forty-four years after “American Pie’s” release, McLean, 69, wasn’t much more positive about the state of the world than he was a generation ago. “I was around in 1970 and now I am around in 2015,” McLean said, as People Magazine. Ghent developmental balance test manual. “There is no poetry and very little romance in anything anymore, so it is really like the last phase of ‘American Pie.’ ” Nor was there romance in McLean’s decision to sell the manuscript. He did it for the dough. “I’m going to be 70 this year,” he told.
“I have two children and a wife, and none of them seem to have the mercantile instinct. I want to get the best deal that I can for them. It’s time.” Ahead of the Christie’s auction, McLean did offer some advice to all the budding Don McLeans out here. “I would say to young songwriters who are starting out to immerse yourself in beautiful music and beautiful lyrics and think about every word you say in a song,” he. Here are the words of “American Pie” as transcribed by, the savior of cover bands everywhere.
Tapestry Don Mclean Torrent
Click more info for description. Please comment, rate, and subscribe. Lyrics are also below- A long, long time ago. I can still remember How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance And, maybe, they'd be happy for a while. But february made me shiver With every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep; I couldn't take one more step. I can't remember if I cried When I read about his widowed bride, But something touched me deep inside The day the music died. So bye-bye, miss american pie. Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', 'this'll be the day that I die. 'this'll be the day that I die.' Did you write the book of love, And do you have faith in God above, If the Bible tells you so? Do you believe in rock 'n roll, Can music save your mortal soul, And can you teach me how to dance real slow? Well, I know that you're in love with him `cause I saw you dancin' in the gym. You both kicked off your shoes. Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
New Rochelle, NY
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck With a pink carnation and a pickup truck, But I knew I was out of luck The day the music died. I started singin', 'bye-bye, miss american pie.' Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', 'this'll be the day that I die. 'this'll be the day that I die.' Now for ten years we've been on our own And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone, But that's not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen, In a coat he borrowed from james dean And a voice that came from you and me, Oh, and while the king was looking down, The jester stole his thorny crown. The courtroom was adjourned; No verdict was returned. And while lennon read a book of marx, The quartet practiced in the park, And we sang dirges in the dark The day the music died. We were singing, 'bye-bye, miss american pie.' Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', 'this'll be the day that I die.
'this'll be the day that I die.' Helter skelter in a summer swelter. The birds flew off with a fallout shelter, Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass. The players tried for a forward pass, With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume While the sergeants played a marching tune. We all got up to dance, Oh, but we never got the chance! `cause the players tried to take the field; The marching band refused to yield. Do you recall what was revealed The day the music died? We started singing, 'bye-bye, miss american pie.'
Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', 'this'll be the day that I die.
'this'll be the day that I die.' Oh, and there we were all in one place, A generation lost in space With no time left to start again. So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick! Jack flash sat on a candlestick Cause fire is the devil's only friend. Oh, and as I watched him on the stage My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell Could break that satan's spell. And as the flames climbed high into the night To light the sacrificial rite, I saw satan laughing with delight The day the music died He was singing, 'bye-bye, miss american pie.' Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', 'this'll be the day that I die. 'this'll be the day that I die.' I met a girl who sang the blues And I asked her for some happy news, But she just smiled and turned away. I went down to the sacred store Where I'd heard the music years before, But the man there said the music wouldn't play.
And in the streets: the children screamed, The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed. But not a word was spoken; The church bells all were broken. And the three men I admire most: The father, son, and the holy ghost, They caught the last train for the coast The day the music died. And they were singing, 'bye-bye, miss american pie.' Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry. And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', 'this'll be the day that I die.
'this'll be the day that I die.' They were singing, 'bye-bye, miss american pie.'
Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', 'this'll be the day that I die.'