In one place, a generation lost in space...

Feb. 3, 1959

But something touched me deep inside,
The day the music died...

Sing it, Don.

RIP, Buddy, Bopper, and Ritchie.

Happy birthday, Vincent

Today is the birthday of my favorite painter, Vincent van Gogh, born in Holland in 1853.

Shown here is his iconic work, The Starry Night, and here is a link to the haunting and beautiful song "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)," written by Don McLean and performed by McLean and the late and great Chet Atkins.

Chet, Don, "Vincent"

Submitted for your approval here is Chet Atkins and Don McLean performing McLean's perfectly poetic song "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)."

"They would not listen, they're not listening still; perhaps they never will..."

The day the music died

Feb. 3, 1959

In memory of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. "Big Bopper" Richardson.

A fantastic live version of Don McLean's "American Pie" can be found here.

On our own for much longer than 10 years now...

The day the music died

"But, something touched me deep inside, the day the music died.” Don McLean, “American Pie.”

Fifty years ago, at 1 a.m. on a snowy night, a plane crashed near Clear Lake, Iowa. Among the dead were that wild man from Lubbock, Buddy Holly; Ritchie Valens and J.P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson. The oldest (Richardson) was only 28.

Don McLean wrote a song about it a decade later; the crash thereafter became known as “The Day the Music Died.”

I remember hearing McLean’s song as a kid, and asking my dad what it all meant. And it’s always made me wonder what would have happened later. Holly — the most talented of the three — had already proven his genius. Valens, just starting out, showed promise. I don’t know about Richardson.

Rock and roll headed in a dark direction after the crash. Elvis joined the Army. The early R&B stuff gave way to packaged puffballs. It wasn’t until the Beatles landed in ’63 that pop became interesting again, and even then it was all-but-impossible for an American act to make it big, at least for awhile.

Maybe it looks bigger in the rearview mirror. I don’t know. I wasn’t around.

But, for me, The Day the Music Died is a symbolic reminder that we should make each second of our lives count.

And, it harkens back to something I’ve never known, driving the Chevy to the levy, drinking whiskey and rye, knowing she’s in love with him, ‘cause I saw you dancing in the gym.

In an ironic way, the music never died at all.

The Starry Night

I don't know much about art.

I remember a little from school. The different movements, various artists, so forth, so on.

What I do know is what moves me. Don't laugh, but I almost always tear up over a particular Norman Rockwell print. He's not considered serious art, I know. But it's sentimental. And it's pretty.

Serious art? Well, for me that's always been Van Gogh and "The Starry Night." I don't have any grand insights on what Post-Impressionism means. I just know I love it.

Thought about the Dutch painter yesterday. Fooling around on YouTube, I found a masterpiece. Don McLean and the late, great Chet Atkins teamed up on "Nashville Now" years ago to work magic on McLean's "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)." Run don't walk over to the Web site and check it out. Such a pretty lyric.

That got me to thinking I need to find a print of "The Starry Night" to hang in the condo. It also made me want to hunt down a copy of "Lust for Life," the historical novel based on Van Gogh's letters to his brother. Sure enough, the library has a copy.

This world is cruel to its artists. We don't pay them, we dismiss them as outcasts, and yet we still reap the beauty they convey. It's cruel, too, because artists often view the world through a romantic lens, which more often than not leads to disillusionment, a broken heart, insanity or some combination of all three.

McLean understood this, and perhaps said more than he knew in his sad little song.

But I could have told you, Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you...