Renowned for his mellifluous songs, American troubadour, Don McLean, has persisted within the music industry for fifty years, and become a legend. Accumulating a repertoire of songs, including “American Pie,” McLean’s earned recognition within the Musician’s Hall of Fame, a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the Nashville Walk of Fame. For regulars of the Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach, California, they were in for a treat when McLean arrived to sing one night, opening his show with “Lotta Lovin’.”
Performing with him were five musicians. McLean repeatedly shared how much he enjoys playing with them. Pianist, and string-writer, Tony Migliore, has been working with McLean for close to forty years. Coming from Nashville, Tennessee, Migliore was also Chet Aktins’ musical director for twenty years.
John McTeague, who played the drums, has been with McLean for two years, and was praised for his skills. Dave Francis played bass, which McLean labeled “an unforgiving instrument.” He was chosen from a myriad of candidates, considered the best of them all. On guitar was Dan Park, from Nashville, Tennessee, and Carl Vipperman, from Athens, Georgia. McLean wrote six songs with Vipperman at the time of the pandemic, or as he calls it, “the damn panic.” His abilities on slide guitar made him shine.
Not long ago, McLean released a new album titled “American Boys.” He’s since revisited his past work, as much of it is undergoing the remastering process, and it has only reminded him of how good he was. The next piece he sang was one he rediscovered, called “Isn’t it Strange?” from his album “Believers.”
McLean said that he never thought he would make another album, considering his established catalog. But, according to him, when a songwriter begins these projects, the project will hold a firm grip until enough songs have been written. It altered his sleep pattern. “American Boys” is an album he showed great pride for, and he wrote a number of the songs alongside his accomplished guitarist, Vipperman.
Since McLean did not know when he would be returning, he promised the band would do a lot for the audience. The next song of the night, titled “The Gypsy Road,” was from “American Boys.” McLean solidified himself as a well-spoken creative, one who performed in a seamless manner with the band. “Homeless Brother,” accentuated his capacity for telling thoughtful stories, through melody and text.
On the subject of story-telling, McLean told the crowd why he was pleased with his album “Prime Time.” Drake discovered that album, and the pieces “The Wrong Thing To Do,” and “When A Good Thing Goes Bad.” He soon created a single titled “Doing It Wrong,” which sold ten million. It turned into the biggest record he ever had, and McLean owns sixty percent of the song. Factually speaking, he is a secret partner.
Long ago, McLean wrote “Headroom,” another album he revealed to be proud of. One of the songs from the tracklist is “Jerusalem.” It was the next piece he sang that night. For two years, McLean and the band were utilizing the concept that the “American Pie” album is fifty years old, but as of today, it’s fifty-two. “Although, it’s amazing when you listen to these albums, I’m still the age I was. It’s the most remarkable thing,” McLean said. He further elaborated that the wonderful thing about his records is that there’s not a “princess phone” in the picture that mentions it’s 1970. “The records, if you do them right, are timeless.”
McLean loves making albums, it’s the most important thing to him. He wasn’t interested in having one particular style, even if it was uncommercial. No matter the decades this choice has kept him out of the big leagues, it’s what he loves to do. During a summer spent listening to Fred Astaire’s music, McLean wrote a song to pay tribute to him, titled “Wonderful Baby.” Astaire performed it on the last record he made, and McLean had lunch with him in England. “That’s the story of my life, these songs reaching out.” “Wonderful Baby,” was an attempt to write a song akin to the popular ones he heard growing up.
His next song was “And I Love You So,” which was recorded by Perry Como, his mother’s favorite singer. It became a million seller, and turned into the exact kind of song he wanted to write. One that sounded tender, resonated with the soul, like a vase of purple-hued flowers placed on the kitchen table.
As a result of his love for western films, specifically those with Ed Cassidy, McLean lives on both coasts. Considering the person he is, that obsession persisted throughout his life. He was pulled to find a place in the heat, and soon discovered that William Boyd’s home was for sale in Palm Desert. Without even seeing it, he made an offer, but did not get it. But he also has two places in Castine, Maine, and Camden, Maine.
At the first strum of the acoustic guitar, people recognized the next song. They all settled in, rendered so quiet that the world itself seemed to fall still. It’s possible that within its fifty years of operation, the Belly Up tavern has never known true respectable silence, until McLean began to sing “Vincent.” The moment was brief, yet still, one comfortable to rest in forever. No one could have yearned to be anywhere else. It was magical to watch the venue grow dark, illuminated by dotted lights akin to Van Gogh’s starry skies. Half a century later, “Vincent” still remains as the most empathetic tribute to the misunderstood painter. People rushed to their feet afterwards, applauding. McLean smiled, saying he loved singing the song.
What was most surreal about McLean’s show at the Belly Up, unlike many others, was that not a single person spoke when he did. Silence swept over the building between each song, making even the sound of ice clinking in glass more pronounced. People held their breath, clung to each word he relayed to them. The erupting emotions brought on by “Vincent,” measured up those that were felt during “Crossroads.” Both debuted on the “American Pie” album. Featuring Migliore on the piano, the rest of the band took a seat. People brushed away tears, held each other’s hands, unified in a moment of sorrowful coherence.
McLean coaxed the audience to bear with him, as he’s “getting to the big one soon, and I love singing it.” Once, McLean passed a bar with its doors wide open. Inside, they began playing “American Pie.” It was the worst he had ever heard. Yet, they loved it. He told himself, amusingly, he can’t miss. He could show up, walk through the song, and the crowd will love it. But he has standards, and knows he still has to try.
An album called “Don Mclean sings Marty Robbins” will be coming out soon. Mclean mentioned how he loves singers like Elvis Presely, Roy Orbison, and Robbins himself. To him, those were the men that sang melodies, rich with vibrato and tone. It’s what he is doing today, without the aid of autotune. Anywhere McLean goes, he sees virtual and tribute bands. “I am the only real thing left. I’m still breathing,” he said.
McLean doesn’t read music, but he can write. He never saw the point in learning, because it’s in his head. He’ll sing his concepts into a tape recorder, and work from there. He encouraged the audience to watch a documentary titled, “The Day The Music Died: The Story of Don McLean’s American Pie,” as he found out things about the song that even he didn’t know. After concluding with “Castles In The Air” and “The Story of My Life,” finally, McLean delved right into “American Pie.” It was worth patiently waiting for, and with each verse, more people stood up from their seats to sing the chorus verbatim. The show could not have ended on a more perfect note, with everyone happily cheering along to a song that will never die. To learn where he’s performing next, or listen to “American Boys,” visit https://donmclean.com/.
Cheers, tears, and passing years, with Don McLean at the Belly Up Tavern
By Ava Sarnowski / BackStage360