McLean, Don

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Don McClean (born October 2, 1945, New Rochelle, New York) is an American singer-songwriter. He is most famous for the 1971 album American Pie, containing the renowned songs "American Pie" and "Vincent".
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Analysis & Interpretation

There is certainly more explanations and analysis on the song American Pie. The following main analysis of the song American Pie has been made by Jim Fan . The alternatives are from various sites .

American Pie

Verse 1

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.

As the 1960s come to a close, we find the narrator nostalgic for the music of his youth and the simple, joyous spirit it once brought him. He then turns his attention to a seminal event—the death of some key figure in music history—that shattered his joy. It is well known by now that Buddy Holly is this individual, having died in a plane crash in February of 1959. Though this is by far the simplest verse in American Pie, it is nonetheless a crucial one (along with verse 2), as it sets up the drama that is about to unfold. The narrator here is nostalgic for a simpler and more optimistic kind of music—a music that can make people smile, and that could help them forget their troubles—and a music that very much represents the happier optimism of the 1950s in America. He also identifies Buddy Holly by the month of his death (February) and the "widowed bride" he left behind. As the embodiment of this music, Holly's passing had a profound effect on him: as it will become clearer in the next verse, this music and the simple innocence and optimism of it has its corollary in the psychology of America in the fifties, so that the day the music died becomes the day the innocence and optimism died—blow number one. Holly's death was a watershed for him, and is the pivot around which the song will turn. Additonal Notes: The same plane crash that killed Buddy Holly also tragically took the lives of Richie Valens ("La Bamba") and The Big Bopper ("Chantilly Lace.") Since all three were so prominent at the time, February 3, 1959, became known as "The Day The Music Died."

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’ll be the day that I die. "this’ll be the day that I die."

A primary key to understanding American Pie can be found here in the chorus, as the theme of America's lost innocence is most clearly stated. So bye bye, Miss American Pie "Miss American Pie"* is "as American as apple pie," so the saying goes; she could also be a synthesis of this symbol and the beauty queen Miss America. Either way, her name evokes a simpler time in American life when these icons held more meaning. She is the America of a passing era, and he is bidding her farewell. Drove my Chevy to the levee But the levee was dry "Drove my Chevy to the levee" alludes to a drive "along a levee" mentioned in a series of popular 1950s Chevrolet television commercials sung by Dinah Shore: Drive your Chevrolet through the USA, America's the greatest land of all On a highway or a road along a levee... ..life is completer in a Chevy So make a date today to see the USA And see it in your Chevrolet and which serves as a signpost to that era—just as the Chevrolet itself is a familiar icon of 1950s America. Also, given that a drive to a levee carries the suggestion of romance in a car, we can almost see him on a date here. But the date is over, the levee is dry—someone he once loved has betrayed him; something that once gave him sustenance has evaporated. Alternative interpretation: Driving the Chevy to the levee almost certainly refers to the three college students whose murder was the subject of the film Mississippi Burning. The students were attempting to register as black voters, and after being killed by bigoted thugs their bodies were buried in a levee. Them good ol' boys being: Holly, Valens, and the Big Bopper, They were singing about their death on February 3. One of Holly's hits was "That'll be the Day"; the chorus contains the line "That'll be the day that I die."

Verse 2

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. 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.

The narrator now reaches a little further back in time to the days of his youth, the late 1950s—a time of sock hops, pickup trucks and pink carnations—as he courts a woman who ultimately spurns him. This is a fickle lady here, and the narrator questions her loyalties. An important verse in that it also introduces a religious metaphor that will echo throughout the rest of the song. Did you write the Book of Love This is a woman of some importance to the narrator—and if she may have written the Book of Love, she is most likely a symbolic figure, as these lines from the 1957 hit by The Monotones, The Book of Love, suggest: Tell me, tell me, tell me Oh, who wrote the Book Of Love? I've got to know the answer Was it someone from above? He then asks her where her loyalties lie—does she have an unquestioning faith in the established order ("if the bible tells you so"), or will this change? And do you have faith in God above If the Bible tells you so

Verse 3

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.

Having previously established the world the narrator grew up in, he now becomes an increasingly disillusioned observer. Bob Dylan, representing the forces of revolutionary change that are brewing in American society at this time, is this verse's primary musical figure, and is used as a symbolic challenge to the older social order represented by Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley. But by the end of this verse, the Beatles—practicing in the park—are readying a revolution of their own that will sideline Dylan later in the song. 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 Though this verse takes place between the years 1963 and 1966, these first lines look back from the year 1970—ten years or so after Holly's death. "A rolling stone gathers no moss" is an old cliché used to describe someone who never puts down roots, but here the cliché is turned on its head, reflecting how the wholesale rejection of conventional values had become commonplace by 1970—and that's not how it used to be. This line could also foreshadow the anarchy that the Rolling Stones' Mick Jagger symbolizes at the song's climax in verse 5. By 1970 we had lost our way, it seemed. To quote Bob Dylan: How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a rolling stone?

Verse 4

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 now move into the most explosive period of the radical sixties, between the years 1966 and 1969. Where only a few years before the social and political system had been solid (if a bit petrified) and largely unchallenged, by this time it had begun to come considerably undone; an unpopular, ill-defined war in Southeast Asia only served to fan the flames. Increasingly, the established American culture itself was being viewed as an enemy in need of transformation, and this generation responded by growing more and more revolutionary. And once again the music was mirroring these changes, as the Beatles—influenced by the emerging Counterculture and their own forays into eastern mysticism and drugs—began to significantly alter the shape of rock 'n' roll, much as Dylan had before them; they were, in fact, replacing Dylan as the voice of their generation. As the sixties revolution gathered momentum, the youth movement itself also gathered more players, as the more organized and pragmatic unity of the Civil Rights Movement and the New Left (largely represented by the Students for a Democratic Society [SDS], and more or less symbolized by Bob Dylan in verse 3) began fragmenting into the Women's Rights, Black Power, Antiwar and Counterculture movements; the Progressive Labor and Revolutionary Youth Movements; as well as their militant sub-factions: the Black Panthers, The Weathermen, Up Against the Wall, Motherfuckers (yes, that was their name)—all seeking, to one degree or another, to influence the course of American culture. But of all of these it is the Counterculture that looms largest in our memory. Though they did not achieve much politically, their style of dress and behavior were enormously influential, as were the drug, sexual and spiritual freedoms they espoused—all of which were in-your-face affronts to the more staid, traditional values of the status quo. And it was their philosophies of peace and brotherly love—vague and ill-formed as they were—that seemed to best characterize this generation at this time, at least in the eyes of the general public. In light of the growing conflicts of this period a football field is an appropriate setting, a battlefield on which the radical youth culture players and the forces of the establishment clash. But once again we find the songwriter mixing his metaphors, using the “marching band” to symbolize both the Counterculture (the Beatles) and the armed civil militia.

Verse 5

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

American Pie now reaches its apocalyptic climax, as the Rolling Stones' Mick Jagger takes center stage at the bloody concert held at Altamont Motor Speedway, California, in the fall of 1969. The flower children drew together here once more to re-stoke the communal goodwill of the successful Woodstock Music Festival of a few months earlier; but even as Woodstock was seen as a landmark in the Counterculture movement, Altamont is widely regarded as the event that signaled its demise. Reality steps in. And there we were all in one place A generation Lost in Space With no time left to start again The flower children gathered at Altamont 300,000 strong, in a frenzy of drugs, alcohol and escalating violence. Woodstock it was not. The grand experiment losing steam, as the solutions endorsed by the drug culture—" turn on, tune in, drop out"—merely left them "lost in space," adrift, with no place left to go; with no momentum left to start the revolution over again. So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'Cause fire is the Devil's only friend Jack Flash is a reference to the Rolling Stones' Mick Jagger and their song Jumpin' Jack Flash, in which the protagonist nimbly plays with fire to boast of his freedom. Darkness now reigned with The Stones, as evidenced by their albums Beggars Banquet in 1968 and Let It Bleed in 1969—works that embraced a more aggressive nihilism than their previous efforts, and which put them at the forefront of rock's growing cultural estrangement. This allows McLean to use Jagger as representative of someone freely pushing the social envelope and inciting rebellion—and in direct opposition to the values of a previous era. Given the theme of lost faith that runs through the song—and in this atmosphere of anything goes—it is an easy thing to see him as the Devil; the photograph above by Ethan Russell of Jagger onstage at the concert in a flowing red cape only serves to reinforce this imagery. To quote the Stones, "War, children, it's just a shot away."

Verse 6

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.

A wistful resignation falls over the scene, as the narrator walks among the ruins of his generation, searching for any signs of the world he once knew. And to the numbed surprise of the flower children all was not well either, as their enormous hopes for a Good Society and an American culture of transcendent values had by now begun to seem like so much smoke. Their idealism shattered, what is left in its wake is something of a wasteland, as their illusions fade under the specter of their indifference at Altamont. I met a girl who sang the blues And I asked her for some happy news But she just smiled and turned away A cynical figure, who when asked for any "happy news"—any return to the innocence and stability of an earlier time—can only smile knowingly and walk away. This is most likely the rock 'n' roll blues singer Janis Joplin, whose death in 1970 of a heroin overdose seemed to reinforce—along with the drug overdose deaths of rock guitarist Jimi Hendrix a few months earlier and The Doors' Jim Morrison a few months later—the failures of the movement. The requested "happy news" also echoes the "maybe they'd be happy for awhile" music of the first verse, bookending the song. 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 The sacred store would be a record store, following on the religious/musical metaphor established in verse two. But the music of years before would no longer play: literally, the music stores that had once provided listening booths for their customers were by this time no longer offering this service. But even more than this, the cynicism of this generation had annihilated the innocent world the narrator had grown up in; that kind of music wouldn't play anymore. He can't go home again.

Conclusion

As American culture was transformed through the decade of the 1960s, the popular entertainment of the day registered these changes, just as it always has. But more than any other idiom, rock 'n' roll was its most accurate barometer: from the early social outrage of Bob Dylan, the Beatles' contagious countercultural idealism, or the fierce nihilism of the late sixties Rolling Stones, rock 'n' roll defined the generation coming of age in these turbulent years, giving it voice and charting its course as no other popular art form did. It was the perfect metaphor for these changes, and McLean found in it a way to describe the dislocating sense of loss we were feeling—to enduring effect.

Regarding the meaning of American Pie, the songwriter has remained characteristically silent, with a few exceptions—especially this one, giving some indication of his intentions:

• "That song didn't just happen," said Don. "It grew out of my experiences. American Pie was part of my process of self-awakening; a mystical trip into my past."
• Don called his song a complicated parable, open to different interpretations. "People ask me if I left the lyrics open to ambiguity. 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."
• In the late sixties and early seventies, Don was obsessed with what he called "the death of America" —the loss of many things he believed in while growing up. "In a sense, American Pie was a very despairing song. In another, though, it was very hopeful. Pete Seeger told me he saw it as a song in which people were saying something. They'd been fooled, they'd been hurt, and it wasn't going to happen again. That's a good way to look at it—a hopeful way." *

In identifying its frequently overlooked theme of America’s lost innocence, the meaning of American Pie becomes more evident, as its cast of characters are better placed in their historical and cultural context. Still, portions of the song remain cryptic, and as the songwriter readily admits, deliberately so: like any good poem, keeping the language suspended imparts a dreamlike quality to it, allowing the lyrics to resonate deeper in the listener than a more literal approach would. But it is also this ambiguity that has generated so much debate, and that has kept American Pie on the pop culture map these many years.

A good deal of what I've said here isn't new,** and for those of you who've heard it all before, my apologies—though I do feel that I've made some new contributions. But in drawing together and laying out the broader outline of the song, I hope that I have given those who may still have questions—or who haven't even considered its larger historical context—a more comprehensive understanding of American Pie.