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Don McLean at the (Great Western) Lincoln Festival - May 27th 1972
Don McLean was waited for with some anticipation as the only real unknown quantity in the bill. He didn't disappoint. Using only acoustic guitar and banjo on one number. He is an intense but amiable looking guy who sang a Geordie song with a certain amount of naivety that creased the audience, but especially a large Geordie contingent who had been vociferous during Lindisfarme's set and helped the afternoon along. The song was about a Geordie who lost his pinker - a pinker being a marble, he assured us. Then he went into 'American Pie' almost immediately, and the chorus was grabbed by the whole audience. As if that song was not enough to show that he is one of the strongest lyricists in the world today, with a knock of melody, he went into the incredible 'Vincent', at which point the skies opened again and the hordes of eletists with special passes and alleged pressmen who had cameras trained away from the acts and only for the bare boobs or a repeat of Altmont ran like hell for the womb of the bar, disheartening McLean enough to walk off at the end of 'Vincent' never to return. One of the shames of the festival.
Don McLean
at the Royal Albert Hall, London - June 12th 1972
Busily and quickly, Don is surmounting all the hurdles to becoming recognised as one of THE major talents. Fears that he might be a one-hit wonder were quickly exploded, both by an excellent and very varied hit album, and a fine and totally different follow-up, 'Vincent' which has even gone one better by reaching number one. Which only leaves live performances to complete the picture. Last week's Albert Hall concert has proved beyond doubt that he's a masterful performer as well, and Don McLean looks certain to be one of the important singer-songwriters for a long time. A concert full of songs as ambitious and full of meanings as 'American Pie' would be almost impossible to achieve, from a singer's point of view, and would call for great concentration from his audience. McLean doesn't try it. He proves with one other song - a complex structure involving three different styles representing the different levels of life on three floors of an apartment block - that 'American Pie' isn't going to be his last epic work. His complete mastery of putting ideas across was proved with a succinct last line tying together the strings of the whole song - "Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings separate us from each other's feelings." McLean is one of the few performers who can project, seemingly at will, a nice, easy, unpretenious mood for everyone to enjoy, then fill the void with good songs, simply and effectively backed by his own guitar or banjo. Thank God the Albert Hall have left him out of their banned rock and pop classification. R.M. Don McLean
at the Royal Albert Hall, London - June 12th 1972 ALL AMERICAN MR. McLEAN
Don McLean proved at the Albert Hall last week that there is no shame in coming across as a folk singer in the old fashioned sense. McLean is unashamedly profound, but at the same time he takes us through melodic sequences that Pete Seeger, Tom Paxton and the Weavers would never have dreamed of. The fact is that Don McLean was absolutely impeccable and had he been a little more strategic with the running order of his songs he would still have been out there singing now. His dominant theme concerns a polluted America and personal everyday crises which are so easily dismissed; but in the context of such a climate he concedes that there is still room for love. 'Tapestry' evoked one of the most favourable reactions of the evening and this song in his poetry soars while his theme remains anchored in harsh metaphor. 'General Store;, in which he relates the tale of Mrs Campbell, is another, so is 'Three Flights Up', an amazing set of sequences in which he shows the paradox of complete isolation created by the walls of one dwelling, divided into three floors. Then there were the ones the crowd wanted to hear - 'Castles In The Air', 'American Pie', briskly and unannounced; finally 'Vincent' and then off. But all the while we had been set thinking on the McLean muse we had been marvelling at his extroardinary command of guitar and banjo and his penchant for melodies . . . and humour. Yes, McLean reminded us of our folk roots, out musical heritage with a tacit reference to 'American Pie'. He reminded us of a lot of things. A chick rushed on stage, planted a kiss and an autograph on the man. The man played a song and then called her back, signed the autograph and sent her dancing back to her seat. Yes above all it was solid entertainment from America's latest star. JERRY GILBERT Don McLean
at the Royal Albert Hall, London - June 12th 1972
It'll probably be regarded as one of the most memorable concerts of the year by a solo artist. The time Don McLean cast an unbelievable spell over the Albert Hall and cast off for good any uncertainty that all he's got to offer is the incredible 'American Pie' and poignantly beautiful 'Vincent'. In every way it was nothing short of a masterful performance by McLean whose status as an artist seemed to grow with each song. As easy as flicking channels on a television, he possesses the uncanny ability to shift moods at will, enabling him to drift an audience through an entire range of emotions. There's no wonder his American following is fanatical - more British concerts to rival last Monday's and the elevator will be riding as fast for him here. He walked onstage to rapturous applause, based entirely on the strength of his two singles and albums, and walked off over an hour later to a standing ovation with girls rushing onstage to grab his autograph . . . and he deserved it all; professional, intense, very humorous and with incredible audience rapport, it's difficult to fault the performance from any stand point. In much the same way as Dylan's, McLean's songs are so lyrically forceful they leave you hanging on every word. On Monday it seemed a sin to cough, or move, as McLean went through 'Tapestry', the wistful 'Castles In The Air; and probably his most powerful number 'Three Flights Up', all tightly offset by his distinctive, full and chunky guitar playing. Between songs he'd make wry asides or sing snatches of ballads even down to 'She stood on the bridge at midnight ...' But of course it was 'American Pie' everyone was waiting for and really it's a tough number to perform now it's so well known. The capacity crowd began singing along, only to be tricked out by the tempo changes. There was one of those magical not-be-forgotten moments during the concert when on one song McLean had the audience eating out of his hand to such an extent that he got us to 'Slurrp' at his will be gradually moving his hand round the hall, creating a strange stereo effect. McLean swopped to banjo frequently during the set, doing a fine version of Woody Guthrie's 'This Land is My Land' and to encore the soft and highly emotive 'The River Is Wide'. Again everyone sang along in true folk-club fashion. Elevating American solo artists to mammoth proportions has become something of a tireless pastime. It's all the harder when someone who really does count like McLean comes along. Suffice to say then, that at this point his potential seems barely tapped and more importantly he's not relying on any moody charisma - his music is his aura. See him if possible. It's enjoyable believing. ROBERT BRINTON |
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(From the British pop paper 'Disc')
