He’d often bring home records by Presley, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, and Bo Diddley, and played each record repeatedly: “The worst things my father could ever imagine,” he says with a laugh. That didn’t stop a young McLean from filling his house with music, though. At the time, the idea of being a musician was “the lowest thing you could ever do.” He says there was a prejudice against pursuing music as a profession, and his father would have strongly disapproved of his career path. McLean grew up in the predominantly white, middle-class suburb of New Rochelle, New York, in the late 1950s. “My life has been a journey of finding myself and finding things that I could do that I didn’t believe I was capable of.” “Singing was really the thing I could do that would seem to get me paid attention to in a good way,” McLean tells American Songwriter while seated inside the Musicians Hall of Fame & Museum in Nashville hours before his induction.
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