The Music Lives on in Lubbock (Sort Of)

Eva has gotten the conversation rolling about today’s big anniversary—it was 50 years ago today that a plane carrying Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens crashed. This is particularly poignant here in Texas, where we feel possessive of our homegrown icon.

Holly’s death was, arguably, the most tragic in rock history. His sound is unique, he was a pioneer in recording technique—that’s a cardboard box providing percussion in “Not Fade Away” and he plays his knees in “Every Day.” Holly influenced our greatest rock legends and his legacy continues. (Marginally related, Mac Davis, who also grew up in Lubbock, Texas, once told me that he would see Holly driving through town with a car full of girls and decided he wanted some of that. And then he went on to write, “Happiness Was Lubbock Texas in My Rear View Mirror.”)

We are much poorer for never hearing what Holly might have produced as he matured.

Rock fans should be required to make a pilgrimage to the excellent Buddy Holly Center in Lubbock, Texas, which takes his music and legacy as seriously as he did. (Those are the glasses he wore the night he died—they’re on display at the center. They sat forgotten in the desk drawer of a sheriff until the 1980s.)

I’d post a video for you, but Holly also was a pioneer in protecting his intellectual rights and his estate continues to maintain tight control. I respect that. We’ll settle for this right now:

 

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