Before the Music Died

Music does evoke memories. And it seems universally those nostalgic visions come bubbling up from our teenage years. Why would that be?

No idea. I just know that I can remember the words to the Elvis songs, and the lyrics harmonized by the Everly Brothers. You can tell what era I relate to. And if neither of those names rings a bell, I’m sorry you missed out on the first notes of rock and roll and need to take a refresher course in Music 101.

Growing up in the Texas Panhandle, Buddy Holly was an area icon, being that he was from Lubbock. A local boy who played the drums in our high school band was quite accomplished and played with Buddy and the Crickets periodically. In fact, he was invited to go on what became Buddy’s last tour, but his mother said 16 was too young to make the trip. Thank goodness.

Buddy, the Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens and the pilot were killed in a plane trip on a snowy night near Clear Lake, Iowa. No doubt, my drummer friend would have been aboard since Buddy promised the boy’s mom that he would always make certain the teenager was with him.

I never was a fan of the Beach Boys. Being from landlocked west Texas, beaches did not resonate with me and I didn’t know any California girls or boys. However, I knew lots of ‘Peggy Sue’s, and understood ‘That’ll be the Day.’

Interestingly, it’s not just rock and roll and country and western tunes that stay in my mind. The gospels that rang through our church rafters continue to make their way into my spontaneous shower singing. I catch myself humming “Are Ye Able”, and “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder”. And I can whistle a mean ‘Amazing Grace’.

Yep, music is my connection to those early years of innocence, playfulness, and vivid memories before ‘the day the music died’.