McLean's grandfather and father, both also named Donald McLean, had roots originating in Scotland. The Buccis, the family of McLean's mother, Elizabeth, came from Abruzzo in central Italy. They left Italy and settled in Port Chester, New York at the end of the 19th century. He has other extended family in Los Angeles and Boston. Though some of his early musical influences included Frank Sinatra and Buddy Holly, as a teenager, McLean became interested in folk music, particularly the Weavers' 1955 recording At Carnegie Hall. He often missed long periods of school because of childhood asthma, particularly music lessons, and although McLean slipped back in his studies, his love of music was allowed to flourish. By age 16, he had bought his first guitar and began making contacts in the music business, becoming friends with the folk singers Erik Darling and Fred Hellerman of the Weavers.
McLean recorded Tapestry in 1969 in Berkeley, California during the student riots. After being rejected 72 times by labels, the album was released by Mediarts, a label that had not existed when he first started to look for a label. He worked on the album for a couple of years before putting it out. It attracted good reviews but little notice outside the folk community, though on the Easy Listening chart "Castles in the Air" was a success, and in 1973 "And I Love You So" became a number 1 Adult Contemporary hit for Perry Como.
McLean's major break came when Mediarts was taken over by United Artists Records, thus securing the promotion of a major label for his second album, American Pie. The album launched two number one hits in the title song and "Vincent". American Pie's success made McLean an international star and piqued interest in his first album, which charted more than two years after its initial release.
In 2004, he was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. In January 2018, BMI certified that "American Pie" and "Vincent" had reached five million and three million airplays respectively.
His composition "And I Love You So" has been sung by Elvis Presley, Perry Como, Helen Reddy, Glen Campbell, and others, and in 2000, Madonna had a hit with a rendition of "American Pie". His other hit singles include "Vincent" (US #12, UK #1 in 1972), "Dreidel" (US #21 in 1972), a rendition of Roy Orbison's "Crying" (US #5, UK #1 in 1980), a rendition of the Skyliners' "Since I Don't Have You" (US #23 in 1980), and "Wonderful Baby" (US AC #1 in 1975).
Homeless Brother
Don McLean Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
I heard somebody yelling, it sounded like a fight.
It was just a drunken hobo dancing circles in the night,
Pouring whiskey on the headstones in the blue moonlight.
So often have I wondered where these homeless brothers go,
Down in some hidden valley were their sorrows cannot show,
Where the police cannot find them, where the wanted men can go.
There's freedom when your walking, even though you're walking slow.
Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
That homeless brother is my friend.
It's hard to be a pack rat, it's hard to be a 'bo,
But living's so much harder where the heartless people go.
Somewhere the dogs are barking and the children seem to know
That Jesus on the highway was a lost hobo.
And they hear the holy silence of the temples in the hill,
And they see the ragged tatters as another kind of thrill.
And they envy him the sunshine and they pity him the chill,
And they're sad to do their living for some other kind of thrill.
Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
That homeless brother is my friend.
Somewhere there was a woman, somewhere there was a child,
Somewhere there was a cottage where the marigolds grew wild.
But some where's just like nowhere when you leave it for a while,
You'll find the broken-hearted when you're travelling jungle-style.
Down the bowels of a broken land where numbers live like men,
Where those who keep their senses have them taken back again,
Where the night stick cracks with crazy rage, where madmen don't
Pretend,
Where wealth has no beginning and poverty no end.
Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
That homeless brothe
r is my friend.
The lyrics to Don McLean’s “Homeless Brother” explore the lives of the homeless and the freedom they experience despite their circumstances. The first verse describes the singer stumbling upon a drunken hobo dancing in a graveyard, pouring whiskey on headstones. This image is a stark contrast to the sleepy graveyard and hints at the idea that the homeless are living lives outside the norm. The second verse speaks to the hardships faced by the homeless, with lines like “living's so much harder where the heartless people go” and “you'll find the broken-hearted when you're travelling jungle-style”. However, the chorus suggests that there is something liberating about living without a home because “there's freedom when you're walking, even though you're walking slow”. The last verse talks about the various people who fit into the category of the homeless, including women and children, and the idea that poverty is endless.
Throughout this song, McLean paints a portrait of the homeless that is both sympathetic and romanticized. The singer seems to admire the freedom these people have in their unsettling lifestyle, likening them to explorers in uncharted territory. The repeated line “smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can” encourages indulgence and living life to the fullest, no matter the consequences. While this may seem like an irresponsible message, it’s important to remember that in the context of the song, these are the only moments of pleasure these homeless individuals may have.
Overall, “Homeless Brother” is a poignant portrayal of the lives of the homeless, highlighting both their struggles and their freedom.
Line by Line Meaning
I was walking by the graveyard, late last Friday night,
On a recent, dark evening, I strolled past the cemetery, surrounded by the stillness of death.
I heard somebody yelling, it sounded like a fight.
In the stillness, the sound of a shout pierced the air, resembling the commotion of a quarrel.
It was just a drunken hobo dancing circles in the night,
The source of the noise was merely a tipsy vagrant, moving rhythmically in the darkness.
Pouring whiskey on the headstones in the blue moonlight.
He was pouring alcohol over the gravestones, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, as if honoring the deceased.
So often have I wondered where these homeless brothers go,
Frequently, I ponder the destination of these displaced individuals in society.
Down in some hidden valley where their sorrows cannot show,
In secluded places, far from the eyes of the world, where their pain and suffering remain concealed.
Where the police cannot find them, where the wanted men can go.
In realms beyond law enforcement's reach, a refuge for those fleeing from justice.
There's freedom when your walking, even though you're walking slow.
There is a sense of liberation in the act of moving forward, even at a sluggish pace.
Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
Break your liquor bottle on a tombstone as a symbol of defiance, urging you to seize life’s fleeting moments.
That homeless brother is my friend.
I share a connection with that homeless individual, seeing value and kinship in his existence.
It's hard to be a pack rat, it's hard to be a 'bo,
Accumulating burdens is challenging, as is living the life of a drifter.
But living's so much harder where the heartless people go.
Life becomes increasingly difficult in places filled with indifferent and unfeeling individuals.
Somewhere the dogs are barking and the children seem to know
In another part of the world, dogs bark while children possess an instinctive understanding of life’s struggles.
That Jesus on the highway was a lost hobo.
They recognize that even divine figures might embody the struggles of wandering souls.
And they hear the holy silence of the temples in the hill,
They can sense the sacred quietness emanating from distant places of worship.
And they see the ragged tatters as another kind of thrill.
They perceive the rags and poverty as an intriguing experience that contrasts with their sheltered lives.
And they envy him the sunshine and they pity him the chill,
They admire the sunlit freedom he experiences, yet they feel sorry for the hardships he endures.
And they're sad to do their living for some other kind of thrill.
They lament that their existence centers around superficial joys rather than genuine experiences.
Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
Once again, make a bold gesture by breaking your bottle on a grave, reminding you to embrace life fully.
That homeless brother is my friend.
I continue to acknowledge a bond with that marginalized figure, seeing him as a companion in the journey of life.
Somewhere there was a woman, somewhere there was a child,
In a distant past, there existed a nurturing mother and her innocent offspring.
Somewhere there was a cottage where the marigolds grew wild.
There was once a serene home with vibrant flowers blooming freely in the garden.
But some where's just like nowhere when you leave it for a while,
However, a location can seem empty and insignificant when one departs from it for any significant time.
You'll find the broken-hearted when you're travelling jungle-style.
During your adventures in the untamed, you will encounter those who have endured emotional turmoil.
Down the bowels of a broken land where numbers live like men,
In the depths of a ravaged landscape, the inhabitants merely exist as statistics rather than individuals.
Where those who keep their senses have them taken back again,
In this dismal environment, those who maintain their awareness find it stripped away from them.
Where the night stick cracks with crazy rage, where madmen don't pretend,
In places marked by violence, law enforcement wields their power recklessly, while the deranged are unapologetically themselves.
Where wealth has no beginning and poverty no end.
In this realm, the rich possess limitless resources while the impoverished remain trapped in an unending cycle of deprivation.
Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
Once more, break a bottle on a grave as an act of rebellion and a reminder to embrace the present.
That homeless brother is my friend.
Again, I call attention to my bond with the homeless man, solidifying my understanding and empathy with his plight.
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: DON MCLEAN
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
The Goddess
on The More You Pay
No. As The Auctioneer explains "what we don't sell we shoot or give away - cuz the more you pay, the more it's worth" so the horse is given to the persona/narrator rather than shooting it to death. The Gallery goes wild in celebration that the horse will go to someone instead of being killed.
Joe Boxer
on Vincent
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dcWFYtG8RFM