Observer-Reporter entertainment columnist extraordinaire (and Canonsburg borough manager) Terry Hazlett wrote a fine analysis of Don McLean's 1972 hit. Our print edition being what it is as far as space considerations, the entire text won't be included on Monday. But through the magic of cyberspace, here's the whole enchilada:
(By Terry Hazlett)
A long, long time ago, I can still remember how "American Pie" used to make me smile. The consummate song about rock 'n' roll's history, "American Pie" was perhaps the most analyzed and dissected Top 40 song up to that time. Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion on composer/singer Don McLean's hidden meanings.
As all songs do, "Pie" faded from the airwaves eventually. When it returned over the past few years as a major player in the '70s format, "Pie" was a totally different confection.
It no longer represented music, artists or even a generation. It was just another song about nothing. As one (much) younger acquaintance said, "It's just one of those 'druggie' songs where the lyrics aren't supposed to make any sense." While I certainly understand how "Pie" can be perceived as another "Mellow Yellow" or "Incense and Peppermints," its words had - and have - deep meaning to a certain generation. Mine.
So, on the 34th anniversary of its No. 1 status, here are one person's thoughts on "American Pie."
- "A long, long time ago"
McLean begins the song by referencing a carefree youth, up to the point where he notes that "I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride." Initially, some thought the author was talking about John F. Kennedy's assassination, but an earlier line, "February made me shiver," as well as the music-oriented subject of the song, makes it clear he's talking about Feb. 3, 1959, the day Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens died in a plane crash. When it occurred, disc jockeys often called it "the day the music died," a much-repeated part of McLean's chorus.
The entire first stanza of the song is about McLean’s high school days in the 1950s, and includes borrowed lines from '50s songs such as "book of love" and "if the Bible tells you so." It ends with his simultaneous graduation and the end of his beloved doo-wop era - "But I knew I was out of luck, the day the music died."
- Into the '60s
"For 10 years we've been on our own and moss grows fat on a rolling stone" sets both the time frame (late '60s) and the mode of music. The moss reference most likely is McLean's way of lamenting how his favorite artists were eclipsed by the Beatles, Stones and other elements of the British invasion. Bob Dylan is "the jester (who) sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean." The next line is unmistakably Elvis. "While the king was looking down (Elvis in the Army), the Jester (Dylan) stole his thorny crown." Later (John) "Lennon read a book on Marx, the quartet (the Beatles) practiced in the park" and - finally a reference to the JFK and other '60s assassinations - "we sang dirges in the dark."
- You say you want a revolution?
The next stanza is the summer of 1967 - with helter-skelter, fallout shelters, sweet perfume (marijuana) and clear dominance by the Beatles. "The players" (other rock bands) tried to take the field but the (Sgt. Pepper's) marching band refused to yield."
Once again, there's a reference to "Jester" Dylan, who's on the sideline in a cast (Dylan's motorcycle accident.) McLean's frustration is obvious: "We all got up to dance, but we never got the chance." No twist, no pony, no mashed potato ... just mammoth rock concerts, two of which are mentioned in the next stanza. "In there we were all in one place" is Woodstock, "Jack Flash sat on a candle stick" is the Rolling Stones ("Jumpin' Jack Flash") at Altamont.
It appears that McLean believes Mick Jagger had a satanic effect on music - "No angel born in Hell (Hell's Angels, who were bodyguards at Altamont) could break that Satan's spell." It follows, then, that "the sacrificial right" are the fans who died at the concert.
- Farewell to Janis
McLean slams on the brakes for his teary conclusion. The girl who sang the blues and turned away is Janis Joplin; the sacred store where the music wouldn't play is probably the record store that no longer carried songs of interest to McLean. "In the streets the children screamed" refers to college student protests and "Not a word was spoken, the church bells all were broken" is most likely McLean's take on that generation's dissatisfaction with organized religion, replaced by musicals such as "Godspell" and "Jesus Christ Superstar."
Then there's the conclusion: "The three men I admire most, the father, son and holy ghost" who "Caught the last train for the coast." The needle hit the record in that spot hundreds of time as fans at the time wanted to be certain McLean was singing "train" instead of "plane." He was. Plane could have referred, again, to the fatal ride of the three men, Buddy Holly and company even if it wasn't headed to a coast. But train made no sense. It still doesn't. And although McLean surely knows the significance of that phrase, he isn't telling.
So entrenched is that rock 'n' roll mystery that it spun into its own hit "Train in Vain" by the Clash. OK. I made that part up - I think.
HARRY'S NOTE: The "Three men I admire most ... last train for the coast" sequence could refer to 'Trane, as in John Coltrane. His 1966 album "Meditations" opens with a rather abrasive (as was his practice at the time) composition called "The Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost," which apparently refers to three jazz saxophonists: himself (father), Pharaoh Sanders (son) and Albert Ayler (holy ghost). Coltrane died in 1967, and although he had no direct connection to rock 'n' roll, he was very well-respected among rock-oriented listeners of the day. Still is.
(By Terry Hazlett)
A long, long time ago, I can still remember how "American Pie" used to make me smile. The consummate song about rock 'n' roll's history, "American Pie" was perhaps the most analyzed and dissected Top 40 song up to that time. Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion on composer/singer Don McLean's hidden meanings.
As all songs do, "Pie" faded from the airwaves eventually. When it returned over the past few years as a major player in the '70s format, "Pie" was a totally different confection.
It no longer represented music, artists or even a generation. It was just another song about nothing. As one (much) younger acquaintance said, "It's just one of those 'druggie' songs where the lyrics aren't supposed to make any sense." While I certainly understand how "Pie" can be perceived as another "Mellow Yellow" or "Incense and Peppermints," its words had - and have - deep meaning to a certain generation. Mine.
So, on the 34th anniversary of its No. 1 status, here are one person's thoughts on "American Pie."
- "A long, long time ago"
McLean begins the song by referencing a carefree youth, up to the point where he notes that "I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride." Initially, some thought the author was talking about John F. Kennedy's assassination, but an earlier line, "February made me shiver," as well as the music-oriented subject of the song, makes it clear he's talking about Feb. 3, 1959, the day Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens died in a plane crash. When it occurred, disc jockeys often called it "the day the music died," a much-repeated part of McLean's chorus.
The entire first stanza of the song is about McLean’s high school days in the 1950s, and includes borrowed lines from '50s songs such as "book of love" and "if the Bible tells you so." It ends with his simultaneous graduation and the end of his beloved doo-wop era - "But I knew I was out of luck, the day the music died."
- Into the '60s
"For 10 years we've been on our own and moss grows fat on a rolling stone" sets both the time frame (late '60s) and the mode of music. The moss reference most likely is McLean's way of lamenting how his favorite artists were eclipsed by the Beatles, Stones and other elements of the British invasion. Bob Dylan is "the jester (who) sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean." The next line is unmistakably Elvis. "While the king was looking down (Elvis in the Army), the Jester (Dylan) stole his thorny crown." Later (John) "Lennon read a book on Marx, the quartet (the Beatles) practiced in the park" and - finally a reference to the JFK and other '60s assassinations - "we sang dirges in the dark."
- You say you want a revolution?
The next stanza is the summer of 1967 - with helter-skelter, fallout shelters, sweet perfume (marijuana) and clear dominance by the Beatles. "The players" (other rock bands) tried to take the field but the (Sgt. Pepper's) marching band refused to yield."
Once again, there's a reference to "Jester" Dylan, who's on the sideline in a cast (Dylan's motorcycle accident.) McLean's frustration is obvious: "We all got up to dance, but we never got the chance." No twist, no pony, no mashed potato ... just mammoth rock concerts, two of which are mentioned in the next stanza. "In there we were all in one place" is Woodstock, "Jack Flash sat on a candle stick" is the Rolling Stones ("Jumpin' Jack Flash") at Altamont.
It appears that McLean believes Mick Jagger had a satanic effect on music - "No angel born in Hell (Hell's Angels, who were bodyguards at Altamont) could break that Satan's spell." It follows, then, that "the sacrificial right" are the fans who died at the concert.
- Farewell to Janis
McLean slams on the brakes for his teary conclusion. The girl who sang the blues and turned away is Janis Joplin; the sacred store where the music wouldn't play is probably the record store that no longer carried songs of interest to McLean. "In the streets the children screamed" refers to college student protests and "Not a word was spoken, the church bells all were broken" is most likely McLean's take on that generation's dissatisfaction with organized religion, replaced by musicals such as "Godspell" and "Jesus Christ Superstar."
Then there's the conclusion: "The three men I admire most, the father, son and holy ghost" who "Caught the last train for the coast." The needle hit the record in that spot hundreds of time as fans at the time wanted to be certain McLean was singing "train" instead of "plane." He was. Plane could have referred, again, to the fatal ride of the three men, Buddy Holly and company even if it wasn't headed to a coast. But train made no sense. It still doesn't. And although McLean surely knows the significance of that phrase, he isn't telling.
So entrenched is that rock 'n' roll mystery that it spun into its own hit "Train in Vain" by the Clash. OK. I made that part up - I think.
HARRY'S NOTE: The "Three men I admire most ... last train for the coast" sequence could refer to 'Trane, as in John Coltrane. His 1966 album "Meditations" opens with a rather abrasive (as was his practice at the time) composition called "The Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost," which apparently refers to three jazz saxophonists: himself (father), Pharaoh Sanders (son) and Albert Ayler (holy ghost). Coltrane died in 1967, and although he had no direct connection to rock 'n' roll, he was very well-respected among rock-oriented listeners of the day. Still is.
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