Don McLean in Concert

It was over 40 years ago when we first went to see Don McLean in concert. The second time was about ten years ago at the Kings and last night the Royal Concert Hall in Glasgow.
The first time, Jacqui reminds me, was for our 7th wedding anniversary when we saw him at The Glasgow Apollo Theatre sadly now demolished (and before you say it NO, it wisnae us, although we did our best on the night with a bunch of other juveniles :o{

The Apollo was so large an auditorium and we were so far away from the stage somewhere up in the darkest reaches of the gods that there were times when we could hardly hear anything let alone know that the tiny wee figure in the distance was in fact McLean. It could have been anybody and just playing records for all we knew.

So, I remember, we jumped around the seats having our own party.
All good fun but a million years and a million miles away from then, The RGCH, is much more civilised. And this time I got us very good seats. How the times have changed and what a difference having some spondoolies in my pocket.

Now these fantastic seats were not in the front row as you might expect for a big spender like me (believe it!) but up to one side so I could see the performers in profile. I have drawn hundreds of performers in action and usually I see them direct from the front so, for a change, getting a side view was important to me.

We were in early to hear the support act, a lassie from Camden in London, Lesley Rowley, who has the clearest and most beautiful voice which soared out across the auditorium:

A young singer/songwriter and great to listen to playing some good acoustic guitar. When I come to paint her I will definitely remember her richly dark red hair, a godsend for an avowed colourist!

For this fantastic support act the seats in front were, of course, empty. Some people appear to have tunnel vision when it comes to listening to anyone who isn't the headline act. And tunnel vision is what I needed when they finally arrived. How is it that in a hall of a few thousand people I get the biggest lad in front of me with sticky-out ears?:

It was only when he turned to one side that I could see anything through his lug-holes let alone draw!

But, even when the lights went down, trouper that I am, I managed to get some sketching done, that is while singing my heid aff to all the songs I love:

Winterwood, Crossroads, Empty Chairs, all from the American Pie album (which I bought way back when, in vinyl, and still treasure) building up to the whole auditorium belting out American Pie at least twice, after my very favourite of all time, Vincent.

"..You took your life as lovers often do,
but I could have told you, Vincent,
this world was never meant
for one as beautiful as you".

Here I am, misting up again as I write it!

And no wonder. When Jacqui and I got married the best I could do was to take us down to Rothesay, on the Island of Bute (just doon the watter from Glasgow) for our honeymoon. It wasn't till the following year, as a young student of architecture at the Glasgow School of Art, that I got a student offer to travel to Amsterdam. There we got to see van Goghs paintings in the flesh, so to speak, and were blown away, all the time singing McLeans song in our heads. And that was without any "grass" which is a whole other story (while walking in a park one day nursing hang-overs on cheap wine and Heinekin, a bloke comes up to us and says "Would you like to buy some grass?". Jacqui, ever the naive, says "get lost, we don't even have a garden!". Now you know why I married her :o)

Here's a second go at the man himself:



And the drummer:


The bass player:


Lead guitar:


And the drummer again, with all his equipment in front of him:


I can already see how all these sketches will come together in one composition. But that is for another day.