REMEMBERING THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED.
Buddy Holly was our hero in 1959. We’d learned one style of guitar playing, simple end effective, from Lonnie Donegan. But when Buddy came along, he took that simplicity and polished it into a rhythmic diamond. The chords were still simple, but it was the way they hung together. Buddy had a beat unlike anyone else. Even now, as I approach 72, I sit down and strum along to Peggy Sue, Fool’s Paradise or Well Alright, and the thrill of seeing those black 45rpm Coral labels going round on my Collar0 record deck comes back. Buddy died as
So much achievement, gone from us at age 22. How big would he be today? What musical advances would he have made? So thanks, Buddy. Thanks for making my teenage years so vibrant and so hopeful. You will never be forgotten.