"A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile."
What an amazing opening line to a song.
Frankly I wish I would have used it to open Musicanima because,
especially with these first few videos,
that's exactly what I'm doing.
I'm looking back and reflecting on the songs that made me smile when I was young.
I heard American Pie for the first time in the same music class as I heard Blowin' in the Wind.
Our music teacher played the VH1 Behind the Music called "The Day the Music Died" for our class
– you can still find it on YouTube, and I highly recommend watching it.
Of course that episode – and American Pie – are about the tragic plane crash
that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper in February 1959.
When I first heard the song, I was amazed for several reasons.
It grabbed me right away and wouldn't let me go.
This song took me on a ride
– I experienced something listening to American Pie –
that I had never experienced before in listening to a song.
First and foremost, this song is eight-and-a-half minutes long.
When I heard it for the first time at age, I don't know 10 or 11, I had listened to
music that was only two-and-a-half, three, maybe three-and-a-half minutes long.
If I heard a song that was four minutes, that was a long song.
But now this eight-and-a-half minute song comes along.
I couldn't believe it, but yet I was captivated – the entire song.
The first time I heard it, we listened straight through and by the time we got to the end
I couldn't believe how long it had been because it felt like it had passed in a moment.
The reason for that is because American Pie, I think
–more than any other song I had heard to that point in my life –
told a story.
It was a narrative.
It told the story of Rock 'n Roll from it's adolescence through the point where it became an adult.
It starts with Rock 'n Roll in the late 1950s and transits through the 1960s.
And what was so fascinating to me was – again at that time –
I didn't care at all about rock 'n roll.
Heck, I don't even know if I knew what rock 'n roll was when I heard this song.
But because of the story that Don McLean told,
I cared.
I cared deeply.
But, even more than that, the pain of the song – the emotion of the song – struck me.
Why?
Well, again, because it was a story.
"A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile."
"And I knew if I had my change, that I could make those people dance."
"And maybe they'd be happy for awhile."
With those opening lines, I was immediately drawn into the shows of Don McLean,
of his adolescence, of him growing up and hearing music.
But then the lines after that is where the song suddenly turns, and it suddenly takes –
it suddenly begins this emotional roller coaster.
"But February made me shiver with every paper I'd deliver"
"Bad news on the doorstep"
"I couldn't take one more step."
And if that wasn't impactful enough:
"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."
Now I could reflect for hours
– we can go though many episodes of VH1's Behind the Music –
on the lyrics this song alone and the stories that they tell.
I mean, I love all the allusions that Don McLean made.
It's such a masterful way to tell a story.
Everyone knows what he's saying – everyone knows who he's talking about –
but because he abstracts it just the littlest bit, it forces the listener to interpret the song
and, thereby, it draws the listener in.
It forced them to inhabit the song.
I love that, instead of saying Elvis, of course he says "The King."
Instead of saying Bob Dylan it's "when the Jester played for the King and Queen,"
or: "While 'The King' – Elvis Presley – was looking down, the Jester stole his thorny crown."
Again, he doesn't say The Beatles or The Rolling Stones –
he says "'The Players' tried to take the field" and "the 'Marching Band' refused to yield."
Those slight abstractions draw you into the song, draw you into the story even more.
You feel like you get to make that story your own.
Of course every line in the song has some significant to rock 'n roll in the 1950's and 1960s,
but the way Don McLean really captured the spirit of that time
– the cultural zeitgeist –
it was truly incredible.
I think one of my favorite lines in the song – it's one of those masterful brushstrokes –
so simple but so effective, the line:
"A generation lost in space."
It perfectly captures both the optimism, but also the latent fear of the Space Race.
A masterful, masterful song and masterful lyrics.
But what I especially want to reflect on in listening to American Pie,
thinking about its meaning and the spirit of the song itself is really the notion of:
"The day the music died."
If you're listening to this, I believe it's because you love music as much as I do,
because music – in some real and tangible way – is the soundtrack of your life.
And, therefore, when an artist, or a band, or one of the members of the band you love
– that created songs and music that was truly the soundtrack of your life –
when they die suddenly,
when they die prematurely,
there's a part of you that dies.
That day – for you – is a day that the music died.
Now, of course I wasn't born until well after the day the music died – in February of 1959,
but I'm sure you have your own memory of a day like that.
Whether it was the day you found out about the plane crash
that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper;
whether it was the day Janis Joplin died;
or Elvis Presley died;
or Jim Morrison died;
or Jimi Hendrix died;
or John Lennon was shot and killed;
or Kurt Cobain died –
or any number of other genius and transcendent musicians.
One of the days that I will always remember as, for me, a day the music died
was the day Michael Jackson died – June 25, 2009.
That day, I was on the west-side of Buffalo.
I had just taken my younger brother to a summer league basketball game, I got back in the car,
turned on the radio and, as I'm driving along the 190 and I take it to the 198,
I'm hearing this story that's being reported on the radio saying how, earlier in the day,
Michael Jackson was found unresponsive, he was rushed to a hospital and that,
right around the time I got home,
was when they were starting to report that word was breaking that he had died.
It was on of those moment that I was just – I didn't know how to react.
I didn't know how to respond.
I remember just pulling up in front of my house, parking the car,
and sitting there for 20 minutes listening to the radio in disbelief.
You know, Michael Jackson's music had meant so much to me to that point in my life.
Obviously I already did a reflection on "Will You Be There,"
but there were many, many other songs of his that just got into me
and helped to make me who I was at the time and who I am now.
There will be many more songs of his that I will reflect on in this Musicanima Series.
But that was really a day for me that the music died.
It was a day that I will never forget where I was or what I was doing.
And, I imagine, for you watching this, you've had at least one – if not several – days the music died for you.
Again, whether it was the day the day Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper died,
Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon, Elvis Presley, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison,
Michael Jackson, more recently Prince
– we've all had those moments and we've all had those times where we'll never forget where we were.
But, for me, even more than the day Michael Jackson died,
there's one day that, for me,
was truly the day the music died.
That day was August 19th of 2008.
I am a huge Dave Matthews Band fan – probably a lot more than I should admit.
I fell in love with them in the early 2000's and went to my first show in 2005
and have been hooked ever since.
Back in 2006 / 2007 though, the band went though some dark days
– they went through some struggles –
and they nearly broke up.
But they banded together and they pushed through.
When they began their 2008 summer tour,
they were on fire.
Just unbelievable.
They we completely reborn.
They sounded incredible.
I had the very good fortune to see one of their shows from mid-June 2008
– only about two weeks after the tour began.
To this day, it is the best show I have ever seen in my life.
It was unbelievable.
Well about two weeks after that show, the band is down in Virginia
– which is where they were originally from –
so some of the band members were on their properties that they own in the area.
One of the band members
– LeRoi Moore –
was on his property riding around on an ATV,
and he was in a very serious accident.
He was hurt very badly and rushed to the hospital.
And the initial prognosis was pretty bad, but as the days went on as the weeks went on,
word kept coming out that he was slowly but surely improving.
And myself, and the rest of the Dave Matthews Band fans,
were very hopefully that he would soon be able to rejoin the band –
not for that summer tour but hopefully by the next year.
Well, fast forward a couple of months.
It's the middle of August and I go up to my family's cottage in Canada
– the one I talked about in Yellow Submarine –
and at the time we didn't have any internet up there so I was completely cut off.
And I get back home on August 19th.
One of the first things I do was go to the Dave Matthews Band website when I get home
to look up to see how their shows have been the last week
and, immediately, when I open the page
a full-spread photo of LeRoi was posted.
Before I could even scroll down,
I knew right away.
Sadly, earlier that day LeRoi had passed away due to complications from the ATV accident.
It was one of those emotional gut-punch moments.
It was my "bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take one more step" moments.
I do remember that I didn't cry, but that was simply because I was too stunned
– I didn't know how to react.
But that line: "Something touched me deep inside,
the day the music died."
I mean, that line could not be more accurate.
In that moment, I knew that the band I loved and had fallen in love with
– the band whose songs had, at that point of my life,
shaped me and formed me more than any other band's,
I knew that they would never be the same again.
When you listen to their music with LeRoi on the saxophone,
it truly is inexpressible.
I know many people aren't fans of Dave Matthews Band,
they don't really like the way Dave sings, or they don't really care for the music,
and that's fine.
But I really encourage you to listen to some of their music and listen for LeRoi.
Whether it's his salsa solos on a song like Warehouse,
or just the incredible soulful solos on songs like Lover Lay Down or Proudest Monkey,
whether it's the just inexpressibly intense solos of when they cover the song All Along the Watchtower,
or whether it is the incomprehensibly beautiful...
I don't even want to call it soloing
– it's LeRoi singing through the saxophone –
when he plays – when he sings –
on the instrumental song #34.
Those songs formed me and shaped me in ways I will never be able to express,
and it was in large part due to LeRoi and his playing of the saxophone.
And the day he died – August 19th of 2008 –
for me was truly the day the music died.
I know that a lot of this reflection has been pretty morbid –for obvious reasons.
But, to try to end it on a slightly more upbeat note,
I want to think about why this is the case
– why we can be so profoundly and deeply impacted when a musician
or an artist from one of the bands we love suddenly dies.
I think, ultimately, what it comes down to,
it's truly the life giving aspect of music
– that music brings so much to our lives and gives so much life to us that it makes us come alive –
so that, when it is so suddenly and abruptly taken from us
– stolen from us –
in a very real way, there is a part of us that dies.
So yes, as sad as it is
– as horrible as it –
when a musician we love passes away
– as horrible as it is to have them stolen from us –
I hope that we can all remember,
and I try my best to remember that the reason I feel that way
– the reason I am struck so deep inside –
is because of the incredible life giving power of music.
It is because of the fact that music makes us come alive.
Thank you for spending a few moments with me and letting me share something that is,
frankly, really personal with you.
As I said before, I'm sure we've all had those days.
We've all had those days where, for us, the music died.
If you feel so inclined in the comments below, please share a day like that for you.
Share a day where your favorite musician
or one of the members of your favorite band passed away.
Not just purely in a morbid way,
but in a way that reflects on how much the music meant to you
– and means to you –
and how much life that music brought to you –
how that artist's music made you come alive.
[Epilogue] [Singing Weid Al Yankovic's "The Saga Begins"] [...poorly]
"A long, long time ago
In a galaxy far away..."
Wait, stay still!
"...Naboo was under an attack.
But I thought me and Qui Gon Jinn
Could talk the federation in
To maybe cutting them a little slack."
I've had this song stuck in my head for days!
"But their response it didn't thrill us
They locked the doors and tried to kill us
We escaped from that gas
And met Jar-Jar and Boss Nass.
We took a bongo from the scene
And we went to Theed to see the Queen
We all wound up on Tatooine
[Laughter]
That's where we met this boy."
Sing with me!
"My, my this here Anikan guy
May be Vader someday later
Now he's just a small fry
He left his home and kissed his mommy goodbye
Singin' soon I'm gonna be a..." what?
Jedi!
"Soon I'm gonna be a..."
Jedi!
Ba-da-da-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum-ba hey!
"Did you know this junk yard slave
Isn't even old enough to shave
But he can use the force they say..."
"...Oh I know he build C3PO
And I heard how fast his pod can go
And we were broke it's true
So we made a wager to two
Woo!
[Laughter]
He was a pre-pubescent flyin' ace
And the minute Jobba started off that race
I knew who would win first place
Oh yes, it was our boy!"
[Laughter]
"Oh the council was impressed of course
Could he bring balance to the force?
They interviewed the kid
Woah, training they forbid
Because Yoda sensed in him much fear
So Qui Gon said: 'Now listen here –
Just stick it in your pointy ear
I still
Bum-bum
Will teach this boy
Ba-ba-bum-ba-ba-bum-bum
And we were singing my, my...
"...And the Jedi I admire most
Met up with Darth Maul
And now he's toast
[Laughter]
But I'm still here and he's a ghost
I guess I'll train this boy."
[Laughter]
I've had this stuck in my head for four days.
Oh no!
Every time I woke up in the middle of the night last night just hearing
"Met up with Darth Maul and now he's toast..."
[Laughter]
Just like random lines would fly through my head.
Anything you would like to add to this Weid Al karaoke?
Ah, no...
I'm very, very impressed that you memorized almost the entire thing.
How could you not?
That just flows so well.
I just knew the "Soon I'll be a Jedi" – that's all I knew.
Think of how many other things in my life I could have saved in my memory that I wish would be there.
But no.
"The Saga Begins" by Weird Al
– the whole thing –
just permanently affixed in my brain.
Super useful!
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