American pop singer Bobby Vee surrounded by photographers, UK, 24th February 1964.

About the Song

Before The Beatles took the world by storm, American teenagers had their own heartthrobs. One such idol was Bobby Vee, a young singer with infectious energy and a voice that could melt hearts. While known for his upbeat pop tunes, Vee wasn’t afraid to delve into a bit of rock and roll swagger, and that’s exactly what he delivered with his 1960 hit, “Devil Or Angel.”

Originally recorded by The Clovers, a doo-wop group, “Devil Or Angel” took on a new life with Vee’s interpretation. The song explores the classic internal struggle between good and bad, with the protagonist torn between a sweet and innocent girl and a more seductive temptress. The lyrics, penned by Blanche Carter, are playful and relatable, capturing the teenage experience of navigating the complexities of attraction.

Vee’s youthful vocals perfectly embody the song’s dilemma. He pleads with the “angel” for a chance while acknowledging the allure of the “devil.” The backing track, driven by a thumping drumbeat and a propulsive guitar line, adds a touch of rock and roll edge, a departure from Vee’s usual bubblegum pop sound. This subtle shift hinted at Vee’s versatility as a performer, showcasing his ability to deliver playful charm alongside a hint of teenage rebellion.

“Devil Or Angel” became a breakout hit for Vee, reaching number six on the Billboard charts and solidifying his status as a teen idol. The song’s catchy melody and relatable theme resonated with young audiences, proving that even the squeaky-clean world of teen pop could accommodate a bit of playful devilment. It also marked a turning point in Vee’s career, demonstrating his ability to explore themes beyond puppy love and heartbreak.

“Devil Or Angel” remains a fun and energetic listen, a snapshot of a bygone era in pop music. It’s a reminder of Bobby Vee’s undeniable charisma and his ability to deliver a song that’s both lighthearted and surprisingly complex, a perfect reflection of the teenage experience.Photo of Bobby VEE

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Lyrics: Devil Or Angel

Devil or angel, I can’t make up my mind
Which one you are I’d like to wake up and find
Devil or angel dear, whichever you are
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you

Devil or angel please say you’ll be mine
Love me or leave me, I’ll go out of my mind
Devil or angel dear, whichever you are
I need you, I need you, I need you

You look like an angel
Your smile is divine
But you keep me guessin’
Will you ever be mine?

Devil or angel please say you’ll be mine
Love me or leave, I’ve made up my mind
Devil or angel dear, whichever you are
I love you, I love you, I-I love you

Devil or angel please say you’ll be mine
Love me or leave, I’ve made up my mind
Devil or angel dear, whichever you are
I love you, I love you, I love you

You Missed

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SHE DIDN’T WAIT FOR THE GRIEF TO FADE. SHE WALKED ONTO THE STAGE WITH IT. Lorrie Morgan has spent a lifetime learning a lesson that most people spend a lifetime trying to avoid: how to sing while your heart is breaking. In 1989, the world watched her lose Keith Whitley, and in the decades since, she has walked that same harrowing path again. When Randy White—the man she leaned on as her rock and her champion—passed away after his own battle with cancer, the silence in her home must have been deafening. But just six days later, Lorrie was in Prestonsburg, Kentucky. She didn’t go there to perform a polished, emotionless set. She went there to exist in the only place she has ever really known: behind a microphone. The most poignant part of that evening wasn’t the headliner, but the person who opened for her: her son, Jesse Keith Whitley. To see the man who lost his father decades ago now standing as a grown man, holding the space for his mother as she navigated the loss of Randy, was a silent, powerful testament to the only kind of legacy that matters. Randy had loved Jesse as his own, and in that moment, the love they had shared didn’t feel absent—it felt present in the way a son stood by his mother’s side. Lorrie didn’t return to the stage because she had “moved on.” There is no moving on from that kind of loss. She returned because she understands that strength isn’t the absence of sorrow; it’s the ability to keep moving even when sorrow is the loudest thing in the room. When she stepped into that spotlight, she was performing an act of defiance. She was proving that while life may leave you with empty chairs and broken pieces, the music—and the family you build—is the only thing that allows you to survive the night.

HE NEVER WORE THE UNIFORM, BUT HE CARRIED HIS FATHER’S FLAG FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. Toby Keith’s most iconic anthem, “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue,” was never intended to be a commercial product. It wasn’t born in a high-end Nashville writing room or designed to top the country charts. It was written in 20 minutes on a piece of scrap paper by a son grieving a father who had been taken in a sudden, senseless accident just months before the world changed on September 11, 2001. Hubert Keith Covel was not a celebrity. He was a veteran of the Korean War, a man who had given an eye to his country and spent every single day of his life making sure a flag flew from his porch. When he died in a collision on I-35, he left behind a vacuum that Toby didn’t know how to fill. When the towers fell, Toby didn’t look to the charts for inspiration—he looked to the lessons his father had hammered into him for years. His father had spent a lifetime urging Toby to support the people who do the heavy lifting—the soldiers. Toby listened. He spent the next several decades in places most artists avoid: carrier decks in the middle of the ocean, the dust of Kandahar, and the forgotten corners of Bagram. Over 18 USO tours and 250,000 service members, he became a fixture in the lives of those serving overseas, showing up not as a star, but as a representative of the man who raised him. He didn’t have to wear the uniform to understand the weight of it. By carrying his father’s flag into the most dangerous places on earth, Toby Keith turned a personal loss into a national service. Long after the stadium lights go dark and the records stop spinning, that flag in Oklahoma continues to wave. For the soldiers he sang to in the dirt and the families he supported, his music became more than entertainment—it became a promise kept to a one-eyed veteran who taught his son that being an American wasn’t just a label, but a lifelong commitment.