then i started singing…

On February 3, 1959, a small-plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa, killed three American rock and roll pioneers: Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson, as well as the pilot, Roger Peterson. The day was later called The Day the Music Died by Don McLean, in his song “American Pie”. The plane crash has been called the first and greatest tragedy rock and roll has ever suffered. [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Day_the_Music_Died]

We saw The Buddy Holly Story at the tender age of …um, I can’t remember, but sister and I were wee.  Little enough not to be embarrassed by dancing in the aisles.  Mom bought us all tickets to go for the second time a few years ago, and, at (then) 25 and 27, sis and I were again the youngest audience members; but we loved every single moment.  We sang, toe tapped, and swooned over the lead.

Obviously, one of my favourite things is oldies music. It comforts me. And today, the anniversary of the day the music died, I’ll leave you with a favourite by my main man, Buddy Holly. [tangent: don’t even pretend like you don’t think Buddy is adorable, he is most definitely one of the reasons I swoon over dorky boys in glasses]

Although his success lasted only a year and a half before his death in an airplane crash, Holly is described by critic Bruce Eder as “the single most influential creative force in early rock and roll.” [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_Holly]

ps: yes, I’m quite aware you think I’m a major nerd by now; I’m cool with that.

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