“The Day the Music Died” – but 60 years later
This was originally published in the Feb. 3 print edition of the Midland Reporter-Telegram.
It’s Feb. 3 — a dreadful day for music lovers.
Sixty years ago, a plane crashed into an empty field with three of the world’s most talented musicians — true pioneers of rock ‘n’ roll.
This shouldn’t seem so important to me — it was long before I was imagined. In fact, it was even before my parents were born. But this day is still a somber one for me.
J.P. ‘The Big Bopper’ Richardson was from my home state of Texas. He was 28 years old when he died — a husband and a father.
On any given day, I cannot help but hush everyone when I hear the famous telephone ring, followed by the “hello baaaby,” at the beginning of his hit song ‘Chantilly Lace.’
It was just a fluke that costed his life. The famous country artist Waylon Jennings traded his plane seat for the Big Boppers’ bus seat — who was sick with a cold. And that’s the part that gives me chills.
I’ve shed a tear or two thinking about his untimely death. My partner right now is the very same age, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him — and certainly not while having a young daughter and unborn son. It’s heart-wrenching.
And I can only imagine how shaken the world felt during the news of this man’s death — a man who was not supposed to be on that plane in the first place.
Ritchie Valens was younger than me when he died in the crash — he wasn’t even an adult yet. At 17 years old, this talented boy became a forefather for the Chicano rock movement.
Nearly everyone you ever meet will have heard his hit song ‘La Bamba’ at some point in life. Even on Grease, it was sung for a split second by Rizzo.
I still must remind myself that a 17-year-old boy wrote this incredible song — one that made it into the Rolling Stone’s list of top 500 songs of all-time. Valens was a real influencer.
In fact, it was the only song on the list to be sung in another language. Valens permanently changed music and was the bridge to success for many Mexican-American artists.
And he died from a simple game of chance when he and Tommy Allsup flipped a coin for the last plane seat. He won the coin toss, but he lost his life.
Buddy Holly was a husband and a father to an unborn daughter when he died. He was 22 — only a year in age difference from me — and he was from Texas — West Texas — in the city of Lubbock where I spent three years for my college degree.
There was a closeness I felt to Buddy Holly as I would walk down the same streets of his childhood and teenage years. I know people who sat in the same classroom as him. It was the same city he saw his influence — Elvis Presley — for the very first time.
I truly believe he would have been one of the best music artists known to man if he had been given the chance — comparable to the talent of Jimi Hendrix or Stevie Ray Vaughan.
He was revolutionary. Even the Beatles — noted as the best band ever — were influenced by him.
And you ever visit Lubbock and stumble across its music and arts scenes, you will see the influence he had on the city and its creative energy. Most weekends, I would spend my time listening to my friends play music — who have the very same passion that Holly did. The city thrives with talent. And it’s because his spirit lives on there.
The sadness I’m overcome with when I think of this day is unmatched. It’s odd to feel upset over an incident that happened decades before my lifetime — and with people who have no relation to me.
But I remain hopeful in what’s to come because of these very three individuals.
Music may have died in 1959 — but it’s been revived by the influence of these very same souls we once lost — and it will continue to live on forever because of them.
Photo provided by Unsplash through SquareSpace.