Not Fade Away....

"...I knew I was out of luck, the day the music died..."

~ Don McLean, American Pie (1971)

Buddy immortalized in a Lubbock mural. 

Rock music is everywhere.

Born of fire and spit forth in a volley of angst and energy, it blasted through the 1950's as rebellion personified, stuck a thumb in the face of "the Man" as a generation struggled to find its voice in the Sixties, nearly crumbled under its own excess as a bloated shadow in the Seventies before roaring back in a hail of anger and sexuality in the 1980's. As it enters its seventh decade of existence, it is as powerful and ubiquitous as it was in the early days in Sam Phillips' little studio in Memphis. It is a dynamic restless changeling, altering its visage with cunning and skill, never resting yet never really losing its roots. There is good rock, there is bad rock, and there is everything in between but one thing is certain, as a bat murdering, dove-biting maniac with bad hygiene from Birmingham once said, "you can't kill rock n' roll"....

And few people have had as indelible yet not fully appreciated impact on the foundation of the greatness that is rock music as Charles Hardin Holley.

Born in Lubbock in 1936, Charles "Buddy" Holley had music in his blood from the moment he took his first steps. His older brothers taught him how to play several instruments before he could even drive and he cut his first recording at the age of 12; a rough track of a bluesy take on a Hank Snow tune.

Buddy's life (and the face of music) changed forever in 1955 when he caught an Elvis concert and he began to mimic legend's rockabilly style and in October of that year, he and his schoolyard friends Bob Montgomery and Larry Welborn opened for Presley; by February of 1956, Buddy (who had adopted the misspelled "Holly" due to an error on his first recording contract) along with bassist Joe B. Mauldin and drummer Jerry Allison had signed to Decca Records, and the template for so many rock bands to follow was born: vocals/guitar, bass and drums.                

In September of 1957, "That'll Be The Day" became the group's first Billboard #1, and in August of that year Buddy showed that his music was truly universal when he and the Crickets were the only white act to appear on a tour that included performances at mainly historically black venues after winning over a predominantly black audience at New York's legendary Apollo Theatre; his music spoke in a language that transcended race and geography and as his star rose, he was being noticed by budding musicians abroad, notably a young pair from Liverpool named Paul and John who were just getting through the "skiffle" craze and looking for a new voice. Always thinking forward, Buddy was also a pioneer in the studio; he was among the first artists to double-track his vocals and harmonize with himself creating a distinct vocal sound, and his extensive use of solid-body electric guitars (namely the then-new Fender Stratocaster) helped mold and solidify the early rock sound.

 By the time Holly was killed in that fateful plane crash on February 3, 1959 he had already set in motion a musical revolution that would eventually see the birth of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Yardbirds. To think that a mere 22 months passed between the recording of the Crickets' first single and Buddy's death is truly remarkable; he accomplished more in those two years than many artists will do in a lifetime, and many are still trying their hardest to be as revolutionary. Few have succeeded.