Today is The Day the Music Died – the day Buddy Holly died. No offense to Ritchie Valens, who was young and did have some great hits, or the Big Bopper who, inexplicably, has a box set available. I’m assuming there are 60 versions of “Chantilly Lace” on there.
Like any kid who grew up loving rock n roll and then bought a guitar, Buddy is a hero of mine – one of the first rock n roll guys I fell in love with; was always “my guy.” Amazing songs, amazing guitar, and looked a little geeky. With his perfect combination of simple, heartfelt songs mixed with studio experimentation (e.g. double-tracking vocals, bringing in strings for “True Love Ways”) it’s a downright crime we never got to hear more than the first 18 months of his career before he hit the ground in Clear Lake, Iowa. We can dream about what he would have done with the Beatles and the millions of other bands that were a direct result of his records, but of course we’ll never know. Every coupla years I go through an extended period of becoming obsessed with Buddy – listening to nothing but him, playing his songs only and watching “The Buddy Holly Story” over and over. One time back in college I had a million pops and then called directory assistance in Lubbock, TX and tried to get a hold of his parents. I’m sure had we talked, I would have been amazing. Hmm.
Today (Feb 2) was also my grandfather's birthday, and it was him who bought me my first radio where I heard all those great songs in the first place. And now I'm listening to the radio, and nobody's fucking playing Buddy Holly wall-to-wall like I thought they would. Wtf? And The Buddy Holly Story isn't even on. Wtf? Well, I guess they still have tomorrow, actually. Maybe I'm jumping the gun a bit.
I guess I came along as a young buck just in time for all that 50's nostalgia; be it tv shows and movies and oldies radio stations. And one day I found my dad's high school yearbooks, and they looked EXACTLY like all those shows and movies from the 50's I liked: crew cuts, satin gym shorts and Chuck Taylors, white chinos with madras shirts. Suits. Quarterback wearing #86. I probably thought that was how life was, and always was gonna be.
As I mentioned HERE, I used to be a virtual encyclopedia of 50's music. I knew every song that came on the radio, at least. And I have no idea what happened to those yearbooks. Now it's all kinda fading away, I find myself struggling to remember them. And one day they'll just be totally gone from my mind, never coming back.
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