Podcast appearances and mentions of jimmy clanton

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The Brian D. O'Leary Show February 3, 2023   Today's show brought to you by O'Leary Beef and Southside Market & Barbecue. Set up your “Big Game” party with pit-roasted meats from Texas delivered to your front door.   Fountain.FM Listen and support us at the same time over at Fountain.FM   A tragic day, but “the Music” continued The legendary rock ‘n' roller Buddy Holly headlined a package show in early 1959, known as the Winter Dance Party. The itinerary was bananas. It covered twenty-four Midwestern cities in twenty-four days—there were no off days. The tour schedule crisscrossed the upper Midwest with no apparent logic. Overnight jaunts of several hundred miles—all in sub-freezing temperatures—were commonplace. Holly historian Bill Griggs had this to say about General Artists Corporation (GAC)—the operation which booked the tour: "They didn't care. It was like they threw darts at a map… The tour from hell—that's what they named it—and it's not a bad name." On February 2nd, the show in Clear Lake, Iowa ended, and the tour headed about 400 miles northwest from Clear Lake to Morehead, Minnesota. Holly famously chartered a plane for his band prior to the show. Buddy was concerned with getting some rest and making a head start to take care of some much-needed laundry for him and his tour mates. Ultimately, only the headliners of the show took the charter. Waylon Jennings, then playing bass guitar in Holly's band, said he felt more comfortable riding on the tour bus and voluntarily gave up his seat to J.P. Richardson, the Beaumont, Texas disc jockey and tour co-headliner, known as The Big Bopper. Richardson felt ill and needed rest. The Winter Dance Party consisted of several contemporary and would-be stars. Yet the party ended on February 3, 1959, for the 22-year-old Holly and 28-year-old Big Bopper when the plane went down in a blizzard shortly after takeoff, five miles northwest of Mason City, Iowa. Also perishing in the infamous crash was 17-year-old Ritchie Valens of “La Bamba” fame. Yet the tour played on. Sadly, in retrospect. Future chart-topper Bobby Vee, then but 15-years-old, had Buddy Holly's material down cold. So, the Minnesota child filled in—in place of Holly—on February 3 in Morehead. Jimmy Clanton, Frankie Avalon, and Fabian ultimately finished the tour in the place of the deceased stars. Waylon couldn't get to Holly's funeral. GAC wouldn't let him leave the tour. To add insult to injury, venue managers regularly threatened non-payment for shows because the original headliners didn't appear. It didn't matter that they had perished in a tragedy. After the crash, Jennings continued for two more weeks on the tour with doo-wop stars Dion and the Belmonts amongst others. Lead singer Dion DiMucci is the last original headliner still alive today and is in his early 80s. Jennings returned to Lubbock, Texas after the tour ended. Holly's father looked after young Waylon. In Waylon: An Autobiography, Jennings wrote: “Mr. Holley wanted to promote me, because he said Buddy believed in me, but I had enough sense to know that wouldn't be right. He bought me clothes and things like Buddy would.” Waylon returned to the job that got him noticed by Buddy Holly in the first place, as a radio disc jockey. He bounced around west Texas and Arizona as a DJ for the better part of a decade before he reappeared in the public consciousness as a musician once again in the late 1960s. So, contrary to the schmaltz unleashed by Don McLean in 1971, “music" did not die that day. It is more than unsettling that American Pie, McLean's terrible—and entirely too long of a—song, is what the hacky news sites reference on a day like this, the anniversary of the plane crash. But never fear, it happens every February 3rd. Diving into the McLean biography is more than a little unsettling as well. To wit: after his second divorce (from his wife of nearly 30 years) with accusations of abuse hanging over him, the now 77-year-old McLean took up with a “model and reality star” 48 years his junior. McLean still lives off the reputation of that crappy half-century-plus old song. Unfortunately, in my early twenties, I purchased some McLean music, but it was because it was a double-album of McLean's and Jim Croce's music. Croce was good, if not great. He also died in a tragic airplane crash. We wrote about Croce a while ago. https://briandoleary.substack.com/p/if-i-could-save-time-in-a-bottle Anyway, this is all a long way of saying, rock out to some Buddy Holly today, or sing along with “La Bamba,” or get a little “Chantilly Lace” pumping through the airwaves. Perhaps go with a doo-wop session of Dion and the Belmonts. “The Wanderer” by Dion when he went solo is also a great tune. There is never a bad day to play Waylon Jennings music or play it loud. I already listened to the horrible American Pie today. I can confirm that it is as bad as I remember and I feel like less of a man for not trusting my memory.   Links: Winter Dance Party Tour Schedule, 1959 Buddy Holly The Big Bopper Ritchie Valens Waylon Jennings Dion DiMucci Don McLean, 76, steps out with his model girlfriend Paris Dylan, 28, ahead of his performance at Manchester Bridgewater Hall Why the Beatles owe their success to the Comanche Indians   For your premium meats: O'Leary Beef   For all the rest of it, go to BrianDOLeary.com for more information.

Recording artist Jimmy Clanton performed on Dick Clark's American Bandstand. And he was with Clark's Caravan of Stars national tour Nov. 22, 1963 in Dallas, Texas. That Friday evening show had to be canceled after President John Kennedy was assassinated that afternoon. He toured with Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Ray Charles, Chuck Berry, and many others. He wrote and recorded his biggest hit, which sold over a million copies. His autobiography is titled “Just a Dream.” I'm sure you remember some of his many hits.

Tonight on Cousin Brucie's Saturday Night Rock ‘N Roll Party: Cousin Brucie takes your requests and plays some of the best solid-gold oldies of yesteryear. Plus, Cousin Brucie puts on his blue jeans and jumps over the moon with legendary singer and songwriter Jimmy Clanton!

Jimmy Clanton joins Cousin Brucie as he recounts some of his favorite stories as a singer, and promotes his new book "Just A Dream: The Story of Jimmy Clanton: From Singer to Servant of God!"

Legendary singer/songwriter Jimmy Clanton best known for his biggest hits “Just a Dream” and “Venus in Blue Jeans” talks about his amazing career as a musician and also the autobiography “Just a Dream” Jimmy also began playing guitar at 17 and became accomplished at 18 locally around Baton Rouge, Louisiana, invited by Alan Freed to star in “Go Johnny Go” and appeared in “Teenage Millionaire” and played all over the world including the Hollywood Bowl, Lincoln Center, and well-known in the Philippines, Australia, Thailand and more! His autobiography talks about the memoirs of his storied career and how he was called by God in a dream! Check out the amazing Jimmy Clanton on all streaming platforms and his latest release on Amazon and www.jimmyclanton.comtoday! #jimmyclanton #singer #songwriter #justadream #venusinbluejeans #autobiography #batonrouge #louisiana #gojohnnygo #teenagemillionaire #amazon #audible #iheartradio #spreaker #spotify #itunes #googleplay #applemusic #youtube #anchorfm #podbean #mikewagner #themikewagnershow #mikewagnerjimmyclanton #themikewagnershowjimmyclanton --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/themikewagnershow/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/themikewagnershow/support

Legendary singer/songwriter Jimmy Clanton best known for his biggest hits “Just a Dream” and “Venus in Blue Jeans” talks about his amazing career as a musician and also the autobiography “Just a Dream” Jimmy also began playing guitar at 17 and became accomplished at 18 locally around Baton Rouge, Louisiana, invited by Alan Freed to star in “Go Johnny Go” and appeared in “Teenage Millionaire” and played all over the world including the Hollywood Bowl, Lincoln Center, and well-known in the Philippines, Australia, Thailand and more! His autobiography talks about the memoirs of his storied career and how he was called by God in a dream! Check out the amazing Jimmy Clanton on all streaming platforms and his latest release on Amazon and www.jimmyclanton.comtoday! #jimmyclanton #singer #songwriter #justadream #venusinbluejeans #autobiography #batonrouge #louisiana #gojohnnygo #teenagemillionaire #amazon #audible #iheartradio #spreaker #spotify #itunes #googleplay #applemusic #youtube #anchorfm #podbean #mikewagner #themikewagnershow #mikewagnerjimmyclanton #themikewagnershowjimmyclanton --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/themikewagnershow/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/themikewagnershow/support

Legendary singer/songwriter Jimmy Clanton best known for his biggest hits “Just a Dream” and “Venus in Blue Jeans” talks about his amazing career as a musician and also the autobiography “Just a Dream” Jimmy also began playing guitar at 17 and became accomplished at 18 locally around Baton Rouge, Louisiana, invited by Alan Freed to star in “Go Johnny Go” and appeared in “Teenage Millionaire” and played all over the world including the Hollywood Bowl, Lincoln Center, and well-known in the Philippines, Australia, Thailand and more! His autobiography talks about the memoirs of his storied career and how he was called by God in a dream! Check out the amazing Jimmy Clanton on all streaming platforms and his latest release on Amazon and www.jimmyclanton.com today! #jimmyclanton #singer #songwriter #justadream #venusinbluejeans #autobiography #batonrouge #louisiana #gojohnnygo #teenagemillionaire #amazon #audible #iheartradio #spreaker #spotify #itunes #googleplay #applemusic #youtube #anchorfm #podbean #mikewagner #themikewagnershow #mikewagnerjimmyclanton #themikewagnershowjimmyclanton

STONECREST WEEKLY'S CITY COUNCIL ELECTION SERIES.Tune in to hear each candidate answer 10 questions in relationship their view on the City of Stonecrest. Each candidate will answer the same 10 questions, giving you a clear perspective of each candidate without any outside influence.Today's  episode features Councilman Jimmy Clanton for District 1.BIO:  Jimmy Clanton, Jr., is the city councilman for Stonecrest District 1.   Councilman Clanton created the Best of Stonecrest Program. This program offers incentives for local businesses to provide the best possible customer experience.  The program has provided free customer service training to many local businesses.  Councilman Clanton currently chairs the Stonecrest Community Improvement District (CID) Advisory Committee, the Stonecrest Overlay Committee and serves on the Parks and Recs Advisory Committee.  He formerly served on the Stonecrest Development Authority, Police Advisory Committee, Stonecrest COVID CARES Act Funding Steering Committee and the Metro Green Investigative Committee.CONTACT:jclanton@stonecrestga.govSubscribe to the Stonecrest Weekly Newsletter so you don't miss a thing! You can also listen to all 9 candidates without having to wait. https://instagram.us10.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=32dcbcb351d2cf1f1e904fd20&id=ec295d5610Support the show

En El Guateque de Onda Regional de Murcia (orm.es; domingos, 22,05h) rescatamos olvidadas melodías del ayer. El verano ya llegó y la fiesta comenzó. En El Guateque estamos de veraneo. Palito Ortega ha dejado huellas con sus canciones y sus tremendos falsetes.Los 4 de la Torre han pasado a la historia del pop nacional por ser los principales adalides de la canción turística en la España del desarrollismo, el sesicientos, las suecas y el Ministerio de Información y Turismo de don Manuel Fraga.Formula V reinaron verano tras verano con canciones que hablaban de playa, sol y mar. Silvana Velasco tuvo una destacada participación en el IX Festival de Benidorm. Acudió con dos canciones y colocó ambas en la final. “A la playa vas”, es la típica pieza rítmica de pop festivalero. Mucho trompeteo y referencias a la playa, el sol, el amor, Benidorm, el mar y todos los tópicos veraniegos que ustedes quieran. Reducir a locutor a José Domingo Castaño es ser injusto con una de las personalidades más conocidas de la comunicación española durante varias décadas. Desde luego, ha tocado muchos palillos en su vida y uno de ellos ha sido el de cantante. Pese al éxito de “Flamenco” Los Brincos no siguieron experimentando por ahí, sino que lo que hicieron inmediatamente fue combinar, como hacían The Rolling Stones, The Troggs y The Beatles, las canciones más fieras, incluso gamberras, con dulces baladas de mechero encendido. Con "Chica de verano" Los Sonor se estrenan como compositores; el permiso de la casa discográfica para incluir material propio era algo que en esa época sólo estaba permitido a las figuras consagradas. En 1976 Amarillo fue designado como grupo revelación del año, Elsa Baeza fue una de esas pocas cantantes cuyas cualidades, personalidad, encanto y estilo, fueron más que suficientes como para encandilar al público español. Cliff Richard ha sido un poco de todo: la respuesta europea a Elvis Presley; la punta de lanza de una nueva corriente musical británica; el predecesor de The Beatles. Su éxito fue grande, pero hoy, fuera de Gran Bretaña, donde aún mantiene una posición importante, su nombre, su voz, su cara sólo aparecen en las antologías de rock'n'roll. El twist de Saint Tropez era un himno de libertad, Peppino Di Capri sonaba todo el día en las radios de aquel verano del sesenta y tres, cuando Luther King dijo en la marcha de Washington que tenía un sueño, sin saber que semanas después matarían a John Kennedy. Los Beatles actúan, por primera y única vez en Barcelona, el 3 de julio de 1965, llenando la plaza de toros Monumental. Los Pekenikes tuvieron mas éxito que los ingleses. Nacido el 4 de julio (título original: Born on the Fourth of July) es una adaptación cinematográfica de la obra homónima de Ron Kovic, que se alistó como voluntario en la Guerra de Vietnam. Sus sueños idealistas de joven americano que lucha para defender a su país se fueron al traste cuando entró en contacto con la cruda realidad de la guerra. Una de las canciones de su magnífica banda sonora fue “Venus” de Frankie Avalon, considerado un "pretty face" ("cara bonita"), junto a Paul Anka, Bobby Rydell, Johnny Tillotson o Jimmy Clanton entre otros. Marie Laforet evoca el amor con la metáfora del sol y el calor del verano en una playa.

Episode 173, “September Babies,” features 18 performers who were born in September, including Buddy Holly, Julie London, Jimmy Clanton, Jimmie Rodgers, Hank Williams, Jerry Lee Lewis, Dick Haymes, Mel Torme, Johnny Mathis, Eddy Howard, and... Read More The post Episode 173, “September Babies,” appeared first on Sam Waldron.

Episode seventy-four of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "It Doesn't Matter Any More" by Buddy Holly, and at the reasons he ended up on the plane that killed him. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on "Chantilly Lace" by the Big Bopper.  Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/----more---- Before I get to the resources and transcript, a quick apology. This one is up more than a day late. I've not been coping very well with all the news about coronavirus outbreak (I'm one of those who's been advised by the government to sel-isolate for three months) and things are taking longer than normal. Next week's should be up at the normal time. Also, no Mixcloud this week -- I get a server error when uploading the file to Mixcloud's site. Erratum I mention that Bob Dylan saw the first show on the Winter Dance Party tour with no drummer. He actually saw the last one with the drummer, who was hospitalised that night after the show, not before the show as I had thought.  Resources   I've used two biographies for the bulk of the information here -- Buddy Holly: Learning the Game, by Spencer Leigh, and Rave On: The Biography of Buddy Holly by Philip Norman. I also used  Beverly Mendheim's book on Ritchie Valens. There are many collections of Buddy Holly's work available, but many of them are very shoddy, with instrumental overdubs recorded over demos after his death. The best compilation I am aware of is The Memorial Collection, which contains almost everything he issued in his life, as he issued it (for some reason two cover versions are missing) along with the undubbed acoustic recordings that were messed with and released after his death. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript   Before I begin, this episode will deal with both accidental bereavement and miscarriage, so if you think those subjects might be traumatising, you may want to skip this one. Today, we're going to look at a record that holds a sad place in rock and roll's history, because it's the record that is often credited as "the first posthumous rock and roll hit". Now, that's not strictly true -- as we've talked about before in this podcast, there is rarely, if ever, a "first" anything at all, and indeed we've already looked at an earlier posthumous hit when we talked about "Pledging My Love" by Johnny Ace. But it is a very sad fact that "It Doesn't Matter Any More" by Buddy Holly ended up becoming the first of several posthumous hit records that Holly had, and that there would be many more posthumous hit records by other performers after him than there had been before him. Buddy Holly's death is something that hangs over every attempt to tell his story. More than any other musician of his generation, his death has entered rock and roll mythology. Even if you don't know Holly's music, you probably know two things about him -- that he wore glasses, and that he died in a plane crash. You're likely also to know that Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper died in the same crash, even if you don't know any of the songs that either of those two artists recorded. Normally, when you're telling a story, you'd leave that to the end, but in the case of Holly it overshadows his life so much that there's absolutely no point trying to build up any suspense -- not to mention that there's something distasteful about turning a real person's tragic death into entertainment. I hope I've not done so in episodes where other people have died, but it's even more important not to do so here. Because while the death of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper is always portrayed as an accident, the cause of their death has its roots in exploitation of young, vulnerable, people, and a pressure to work no matter what. So today, we're going to look at how "It Doesn't Matter Any More" became Buddy Holly's last single: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, "It Doesn't Matter Any More"] People often talk about how Buddy Holly's career was short, but what they don't mention is that his chart career was even shorter. Holly's first chart single, "That'll Be the Day", was released in May 1957. His last top thirty single during his lifetime, "Think it Over", was released in May 1958. By the time he went on the Winter Dance Party, the tour that led to his death, in January 1959, he had gone many months without a hit, and his most recent record, "Heartbeat", had only reached number eighty-two. He'd lost every important professional relationship in his life, and had split from the group that had made him famous. To see how this happened, we need to pick up where we left off with him last time. You'll remember that when we left the Crickets, they'd released "That'll Be the Day", and it hadn't yet become a hit, and they'd also released "Words of Love" as a Buddy Holly solo single. While there were different names on them, the same people would make the records, whether it was a solo or group record -- Buddy Holly on vocals and lead guitar, Niki Sullivan on rhythm guitar, Jerry Allison on drums, Joe Mauldin on bass, and producer Norman Petty and his wife sometimes adding keyboards. They didn't distinguish between "Buddy Holly" and "Crickets" material when recording -- rather they separated it out later. The more straight-ahead rock and roll records would have backing vocals overdubbed on them, usually by a vocal group called the Picks, and would be released as Crickets records, while the more experimental ones would be left with only Holly's vocal on, and would be released as solo records. (There were no records released as by "Buddy Holly and the Crickets" at the time, because the whole idea of the split was that DJs would play two records instead of one if they appeared to be by different artists). And they were recording *a lot*. Two days after “That'll be the Day” was released, on the twenty-seventh of May 1957, they recorded "Everyday" and "Not Fade Away". Between then and the first of July they recorded "Tell Me How", "Oh Boy", "Listen to Me", "I'm Going to Love You Too", and cover versions of Fats Domino's "Valley of Tears" and Little Richard's "Ready Teddy". Remember, this was all before they'd had a single hit -- "That'll Be the Day" and "Words of Love" still hadn't charted. This is quite an astonishing outpouring of songs, but the big leap forward came on the second of July, when they made a second attempt at a song they'd attempted to record back in late 1956, and had been playing in their stage show since then. The song had originally been titled "Cindy Lou", after Buddy's niece, but Jerry Allison had recently started dating a girl named Peggy Sue Gerrison, and they decided to change the lyrics to be about her. The song had also originally been played as a Latin-flavoured number, but when they were warming up, Allison started playing a fast paradiddle on his snare drum. Holly decided that they were going to change the tempo of the song and have Allison play that part all the way through, though this meant that Allison had to go out and play in the hallway rather than in the main studio, because the noise from his drums was too loud in the studio itself. The final touch came when Petty decided, on the song's intro, to put the drums through the echo chamber and keep flicking the switch on the echo from "on" to "off", so it sounded like there were two drummers playing: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, "Peggy Sue"] Someone else was flicking a switch, too -- Niki Sullivan was already starting to regret joining the Crickets, because there really wasn't room for his rhythm guitar on most of the songs they were playing. And on "Peggy Sue" he ended up not playing at all. On that song, Buddy had to switch between two pickups -- one for when he was singing, and another to give his guitar a different tone during the solo. But he was playing so fast that he couldn't move his hand to the switch, and in those days there were no foot pedals one could use for the same sort of effect. So Niki Sullivan became Holly's foot pedal. He knelt beside Holly and waited for the point when the solo was about to start, and flicked the switch on his guitar. When the solo came to an end again, Sullivan flicked the switch again and it went back to the original sound. [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, "Peggy Sue"] It's a really strange sounding record, if you start to pay attention to it. Other than during the solo, Holly's guitar is so quiet that you can hear the plectrum as loudly as you can hear the notes. He just keeps up a ram-a-ram-a quaver downstrum throughout the whole song, which sounds simple until you try to play it, at which point you realise that you start feeling like your arm's going to fall off about a quarter of the way through. And there's just that, those drums (playing a part which must be similarly physically demanding) with their weird echo, and Holly's voice. In theory, Joe Mauldin's bass is also in there, but it's there at almost homeopathic levels. It's a record that is entirely carried by the voice, the drums, and the guitar solo. Of course, Niki Sullivan wasn't happy about being relegated to guitar-switch-flicker, and there were other tensions within the group as well. Holly was having an affair with a married woman at the time -- and Jerry Allison, who was Holly's best friend as well as his bandmate, was also in love with her, though not in a relationship with her, and so Holly had to keep his affair hidden from his best friend. And not only that, but Allison and Sullivan were starting to have problems with each other, too. To help defuse the situation, Holly's brother Larry took him on holiday, to go fishing in Colorado. But even there, the stress of the current situation was showing -- Buddy spent much of the trip worried about the lack of success of "That'll Be the Day", and obsessing over a new record by a new singer, Paul Anka, that had gone to number one: [Excerpt: Paul Anka, "Diana"] Holly was insistent that he could do better than that, and that his records were at least as good. But so far they were doing nothing at all on the charts. But then a strange thing happened. "That'll Be the Day" started getting picked up by black radio stations. It turned out that there had been another group called the Crickets -- a black doo-wop group from about five years earlier, led by a singer called Dean Barlow, who had specialised in smooth Ink Spots-style ballads: [Excerpt The Crickets featuring Dean Barlow, "Be Faithful"] People at black radio stations had assumed that this new group called the Crickets was the same one, and had then discovered that "That'll Be the Day" was really rather good. The group even got booked on an otherwise all-black tour headlined by Clyde McPhatter and Otis Rush, booked by people who hadn't realised they were white. Before going on the tour, they formally arranged to have Norman Petty be their manager as well as their producer. They were a success on the tour, though when it reached the Harlem Apollo, which had notoriously hostile audiences, the group had to reconfigure their sets, as the audiences didn't like any of Holly's original material except "That'll Be the Day", but did like the group's cover versions of R&B records like "Bo Diddley": [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, "Bo Diddley (Undubbed Version)"] Some have said that the Crickets were the first white act to play the Apollo. That's not the case -- Bobby Darin had played there before them, and I think so had the jazz drummer Buddy Rich, and maybe one or two others. But it was still a rarity, and the Crickets had to work hard to win the audience around. After they finished that tour, they moved on to a residency at the Brooklyn Paramount, on an Alan Freed show that also featured Little Richard and Larry Williams -- who the Crickets met for the first time when they walked into the dressing room to find Richard and Williams engaged in a threesome with Richard's girlfriend. During that engagement at the Paramount, the tensions within the group reached boiling point. Niki Sullivan, who was in an awful mood because he was trying to quit smoking, revealed the truth about Holly's affair to Allison, and the group got in a fist-fight. According to Sullivan -- who seems not to have always been the most reliable of interviewees -- Sullivan gave Jerry Allison a black eye, and then straight away they had to go to the rooftop to take the photo for the group's first album, The "Chirping" Crickets. Sullivan says that while the photo was retouched to hide the black eye, it's still visible, though I can't see it myself. After this, they went into a three-month tour on a giant package of stars featuring Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Paul Anka, the Everly Brothers, the Bobbettes, the Drifters, LaVern Baker, and many more. By this point, both "That'll Be the Day" and "Peggy Sue" had risen up the charts -- "That'll Be the Day" eventually went to number one, while "Peggy Sue" hit number three -- and the next Crickets single, "Oh Boy!" was also charting. "Oh Boy!" had originally been written by an acquaintance of the band, Sonny West, who had recorded his own version as "All My Love" a short while earlier: [Excerpt: Sonny West, "All My Love"] Glen Hardin, the piano player on that track, would later join a lineup of the Crickets in the sixties (and later still would be Elvis' piano player and arranger in the seventies). Holly would later also cover another of West's songs, "Rave On". The Crickets' version of “Oh Boy!” was recorded at a faster tempo, and became another major hit, their last top ten: [Excerpt: The Crickets, "Oh Boy!"] Around the time that came out, Eddie Cochran joined the tour, and like the Everly Brothers he became fast friends with the group. The group also made an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, with Holly, Mauldin, and Allison enthusiastically performing "That'll Be the Day" and "Peggy Sue", and Sullivan enthusiastically miming and playing an unplugged guitar. Sullivan was becoming more and more sidelined in the group, and when they returned to Lubbock at the end of the tour -- during which he'd ended up breaking down and crying -- he decided he was going to quit the group. Sullivan tried to have a solo career, releasing "It's All Over" on Dot Records: [Excerpt: Niki Sullivan, "It's All Over"] But he had no success, and ended up working in electronics, and in later years also making money from the Buddy Holly nostalgia industry. He'd only toured as a member of the group for a total of ninety days, though he'd been playing with them in the studio for a few months before that, and he'd played on a total of twenty-seven of the thirty-two songs that Holly or the Crickets would release in Holly's lifetime. While he'd been promised an equal share of the group's income -- and Petty had also promised Sullivan, like all the other Crickets, that he would pay 10% of his income to his church -- Sullivan got into endless battles with Petty over seeing the group's accounts, which Petty wouldn't show him, and eventually settled for getting just $1000, ten percent of the recording royalties just for the single "That'll Be the Day", and co-writing royalties on one song, "I'm Going to Love You Too". His church didn't get a cent. Meanwhile, Petty was busy trying to widen the rifts in the group. He decided that while the records would still be released as either "Buddy Holly" or "the Crickets", as a live act they would from now on be billed as "Buddy Holly and the Crickets", a singer and his backing group, and that while Mauldin and Allison would continue to get twenty-five percent of the money each, Holly would be on fifty percent. This was an easy decision, since Petty was handling all the money and only giving the group pocket money rather than giving them their actual shares of the money they'd earned. The group spent all of 1958 touring, visiting Hawaii, Australia, the UK, and all over the US, including the famous last ever Alan Freed tour that we looked at recently in episodes on Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. They got in another guitarist, Tommy Allsup, who took over the lead role while Buddy played rhythm, and who joined them on tour, though he wasn't an official member of the group. The first recording Allsup played on was "It's So Easy": [Excerpt: The Crickets, "It's So Easy"] But the group's records were selling less and less well. Holly was getting worried, and there was another factor that came into play. On a visit to New York, stopping in to visit their publisher in the Brill Building, all three of the Crickets became attracted to the receptionist, a Puerto Rican woman named Maria Elena Santiago who was a few years older than them. They all started to joke about which of them would ask her out, and Holly eventually did so. It turned out that while Maria Elena was twenty-five, she'd never yet been on a date, and she had to ask the permission of her aunt, who she lived with, and who was also the head of the Latin-American division of the publishing company. The aunt rang round every business contact she had, satisfied herself that Buddy was a nice boy, and gave her blessing for the date. The next day, she was giving her blessing for the two to marry -- Buddy proposed on the very first date. They eventually went on a joint honeymoon with Jerry Allison and Peggy Sue. But Maria Elena was someone who worked in the music industry, and was a little bit older, and she started saying things to Buddy like "You need to get a proper accounting of the money that's owed you", and "You should be getting paid". This strained his relationship with Petty, who didn't want any woman of colour butting her nose in and getting involved in his business. Buddy moved to a flat in Greenwich Village with Maria Elena, but for the moment he was still working with Petty, even after Petty used some extremely misogynistic slurs I'm not going to repeat here against his new wife. But he was worried about his lack of hits, and they tried a few different variations on the formula. The Crickets recorded one song, a cover version of a song they'd learned on the Australian tour, with Jerry Allison singing lead. It was released under the name "Ivan" -- Allison's middle name -- and became a minor hit: [Excerpt: Ivan, "Real Wild Child"] They tried more and more different things, like getting King Curtis in to play saxophone on "Reminiscing", and on one occasion dispensing with the Crickets entirely and having Buddy cut a Bobby Darin song, "Early in the Morning", with other musicians. They were stockpiling recordings much faster than they could release them, but the releases weren't doing well at all. "It's So Easy" didn't even reach the top one hundred. Holly was also working with other artists. In September, he produced a session for his friend Waylon Jennings, who would later become a huge country star. It was Jennings' first ever session, and they turned out an interesting version of the old Cajun song "Jole Blon", which had earlier been a hit for Moon Mullican. This version had Holly on guitar and King Curtis on saxophone, and is a really interesting attempt at blending Cajun music with R&B: [Excerpt: Waylon Jennings, "Jole Blon"] But Holly's biggest hope was placed in a session that was really breaking new ground. No rock and roll singer had ever recorded with a full string section before -- at least as far as he was aware, and bearing in mind that, as we've seen many times, there's never truly a first anything. In October 1958, Holly went into the studio with the Dick Jacobs Orchestra, with the intention of recording three songs -- his own "True Love Ways", a song called "Moondreams" written by Petty, and one called "Raining in My Heart" written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, who'd written many hits for his friends the Everly Brothers. At the last minute, though, he decided to record a fourth song, which had been written for him by Paul Anka, the same kid whose "Diana" had been so irritating to him the year before. He played through the song on his guitar for Dick Jacobs, who only had a short while to write the arrangement, and so stuck to the simplest thing he could think of, basing it around pizzicato violins: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, "It Doesn't Matter Any More"] At that point, everything still seemed like it could work out OK. Norman Petty and the other Crickets were all there at the recording session, cheering Buddy on. That night the Crickets appeared on American Bandstand, miming to "It's So Easy". That would be the last time they ever performed together, and soon there would be an irreparable split that would lead directly to Holly's death -- and to his posthumous fame. Holly was getting sick of Norman Petty's continual withholding of royalties, and he'd come up with a plan. The Crickets would, as a group, confront Petty, get him to give them the money he owed them, and then all move to New York together to start up their own record label and publishing company. They'd stop touring, and focus on making records, and this would allow them the time to get things right and try new things out, which would lead to them having hits again, and they could also produce records for their friends like Waylon Jennings and Sonny Curtis. It was a good plan, and it might have worked, but it relied on them getting that money off Norman Petty. When the other two got back to Texas, Petty started manipulating them. He told them they were small-town Texas boys who would never be able to live in the big city. He told them that they didn't need Buddy Holly, and that they could carry on making Crickets records without him. He told them that Maria Elena was manipulating Buddy, and that if they went off to New York with him it would be her who was in charge of the group from that point on. And he also pointed out that he was currently the only signatory on the group's bank account, and it would be a real shame if something happened to all that money. By the time Buddy got back to Texas, the other two Crickets had agreed that they were going to stick with Norman Petty. Petty said it was fine if Buddy wanted to fire him, but he wasn't getting any money until a full audit had been done of the organisation's money. Buddy was no longer even going to get the per diem pocket money or expenses he'd been getting. Holly went back to New York, and started writing many, many, more songs, recording dozens of acoustic demos for when he could start his plan up: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, "Crying, Waiting, Hoping"] It was a massive creative explosion for the young man. He was not only writing songs himself, but he was busily planning to make an album of Latin music, and he was making preparations for two more projects he'd like to do -- an album of duets on gospel songs with Mahalia Jackson, and an album of soul duets with Ray Charles. He was going to jazz clubs, and he had ambitions of following Elvis into films, but doing it properly -- he enrolled in courses with Lee Strasberg's Actors Studio, to learn Method Acting. Greenwich Village in 1958 was the perfect place for a young man with a huge amount of natural talent and appetite for learning, but little experience of the wider world and culture. But the young couple were living off Maria Elena's aunt's generosity, and had no income at all of their own. And then Maria Elena revealed that she was pregnant. And Norman Petty revealed something he'd kept hidden before -- by the terms of Buddy's contract, he hadn't really been recording for Brunswick or Coral, so they didn't owe him a penny. He'd been recording for Petty's company, who then sold the masters on to the other labels, and would get all the royalties. The Crickets bank account into which the royalties had supposedly been being paid, and which Petty had refused to let the band members see, was essentially empty. There was only one thing for it. He had to do another tour. And the only one he could get on was a miserable-seeming affair called the Winter Dance Party. While most of the rock and roll package tours of the time had more than a dozen acts on, this one had only five. There was an opening act called Frankie Sardo, and then Dion and the Belmonts, who had had a few minor hits, and had just recorded, but not yet released, their breakthrough record "Teenager in Love": [Excerpt: Dion and the Belmonts, "Teenager in Love"] Then there was the Big Bopper, who was actually a fairly accomplished songwriter but was touring on the basis of his one hit, a novelty song called "Chantilly Lace": [Excerpt: the Big Bopper, "Chantilly Lace"] And Ritchie Valens, whose hit "Donna" was rising up the charts in a way that "It Doesn't Matter Any More" was notably failing to do: [Excerpt: Ritchie Valens, "Donna"] Buddy put together a new touring band consisting of Tommy Allsup on guitar, Waylon Jennings on bass -- who had never played bass before starting the tour -- and a drummer called Carl Bunch. For a while it looked like Buddy's friend Eddie Cochran was going to go on tour with them as well, but shortly before the tour started Cochran got an offer to do the Ed Sullivan Show, which would have clashed with the tour dates, and so he didn't make it. Maria Elena was very insistent that she didn't want Buddy to go, but he felt that he had no choice if he was going to support his new child. The Winter Dance Party toured Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota, through the end of January and the beginning of February 1959, and the conditions were miserable for everyone concerned. The tour had been put together with no thought of logistics, and it zig-zagged wildly across those three states, with gigs often four hundred miles away from each other. The musicians had to sleep on the tour bus -- or buses. The tour was being run on a shoe-string, and they'd gone with the cheapest vehicle-hire company possible. They went through, according to one biography I've read, eight different buses in eleven days, as none of the buses were able to cope with the Midwestern winter, and their engines kept failing and the heating on several of the buses broke down. I don't know if you've spent any time in that part of America in the winter, but I go there for Christmas every year (my wife has family in Minnesota) and it's unimaginably cold in a way you can't understand unless you've experienced it. It's not unusual for temperatures to drop to as low as minus forty degrees, and to have three feet or more of snow. Travelling in a bus, with no heating, in that weather, all packed together, was hell for everyone. The Big Bopper and Valens were both fat, and couldn't fit in the small seats easily. Several people on the tour, including Bopper and Valens, got the flu. And then finally Carl Bunch got hospitalised with frostbite. Buddy's band, which was backing everyone on stage, now had no drummer, and so for the next three days of the tour Holly, Dion, and Valens would all take it in turns playing the drums, as all of them were adequate drummers. The shows were still good, at least according to a young man named Robert Zimmerman, who saw the first drummerless show, in Duluth Minnesota, and who would move to Greenwich Village himself not that long afterwards. After a show in Clear Lake, Iowa, Buddy had had enough. He decided to charter a plane to take him to Fargo, North Dakota, which was just near Moorhead, Minnesota, where they were planning on playing their next show. He'd take everyone's laundry -- everyone stank and had been wearing the same clothes for days -- and get it washed, and get some sleep in a real bed. The original plan was to have Allsup and Jennings travel with him, but eventually they gave up their seats to the two other people who were suffering the most -- the Big Bopper and Valens. There are different stories about how that happened, most involving a coin-toss, but they all agree that when Buddy found out that Waylon Jennings was giving up his seat, he jokingly said to Jennings "I hope your old bus freezes", and Jennings replied, "Yeah, well I hope your ol' plane crashes". The three of them got on the plane in the middle of the night, on a foggy winter's night, which would require flying by instruments. Unfortunately, while the pilot on the plane was rated as being a good pilot during the day, he kept almost failing his certification for being bad at flying by instrument. And the plane in question had an unusual type of altitude meter. Where most altitude meters would go up when the plane was going up and down when it was going down, that particular model's meter went down when the plane was going up, and up when it was going down. The plane took off, and less than five minutes after takeoff, it plummeted straight down, nose first, into the ground at top speed, killing everyone on board instantly. As soon as the news got out, Holly's last single finally started rising up the charts. It ended up going to number thirteen on the US charts, and number one in many other countries. The aftermath shows how much contempt the music industry -- and society itself -- had for those musicians at that time. Maria Elena found out about Buddy's death not from the police, but from the TV -- this later prompted changes in how news of celebrity deaths was to be revealed. She was so upset that she miscarried two days later. She was too distraught to attend the funeral, and to this day has still never been able to bring herself to visit her husband's grave. The grief was just too much. The rest of the people on the tour were forced to continue the remaining thirteen days of the tour without the three acts anyone wanted to go and see, but were also not paid their full wages, because the bill wasn't as advertised. A new young singer was picked up to round out the bill on the next gig, a young Minnesotan Holly soundalike called Bobby Vee, whose first single, "Suzy Baby", was just about to come out: [Excerpt: Bobby Vee, "Suzy Baby"] When Vee went on tour on his own, later, he hired that Zimmerman kid we mentioned earlier as his piano player. Zimmerman worked under the stage name Elston Gunn, but would later choose a better one. After that date Holly, Valens, and the Bopper were replaced by Fabian, Frankie Avalon, and Jimmy Clanton, and the tour continued. Meanwhile, the remaining Crickets picked themselves up and carried on. They got Buddy's old friend Sonny Curtis on guitar, and a succession of Holly-soundalike singers, and continued playing together until Joe Mauldin died in 2015. Most of their records without Buddy weren't particularly memorable, but they did record one song written by Curtis which would later become a hit for several other people, "I Fought the Law": [Excerpt: The Crickets, "I Fought the Law"] But the person who ended up benefiting most from Holly's death was Norman Petty. Suddenly his stockpile of unreleased Buddy Holly recordings was a goldmine -- and not only that, he ended up coming to an agreement with Holly's estate that he could take all those demos Holly had recorded and overdub new backing tracks on them, turning them into full-blown rock and roll songs. Between overdubbed versions of the demos, and stockpiled full-band recordings, Buddy Holly kept having hit singles in the rest of the world until 1965, though none charted in the US, and he made both Petty and his estate very rich. Norman Petty died in 1984. His last project was a still-unreleased "updating" of Buddy's biggest hits with synthesisers. These days, Buddy Holly is once again on tour, or at least something purporting to be him is. You can now go and see a "hologram tour", in which an image of a look-not-very-alike actor miming to Holly's old recordings is projected on glass, using the old Victorian stage trick Pepper's Ghost, while a live band plays along to the records. Just because you've worked someone to death aged twenty-two, doesn't mean that they can't still keep earning money for you when they're eighty-three. And a hologram will never complain about how cold the tour bus is, or want to wash his laundry.

Episode seventy-four of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” by Buddy Holly, and at the reasons he ended up on the plane that killed him. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Chantilly Lace” by the Big Bopper.  Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/—-more—- Before I get to the resources and transcript, a quick apology. This one is up more than a day late. I’ve not been coping very well with all the news about coronavirus outbreak (I’m one of those who’s been advised by the government to sel-isolate for three months) and things are taking longer than normal. Next week’s should be up at the normal time. Also, no Mixcloud this week — I get a server error when uploading the file to Mixcloud’s site. Erratum I mention that Bob Dylan saw the first show on the Winter Dance Party tour with no drummer. He actually saw the last one with the drummer, who was hospitalised that night after the show, not before the show as I had thought.  Resources   I’ve used two biographies for the bulk of the information here — Buddy Holly: Learning the Game, by Spencer Leigh, and Rave On: The Biography of Buddy Holly by Philip Norman. I also used  Beverly Mendheim’s book on Ritchie Valens. There are many collections of Buddy Holly’s work available, but many of them are very shoddy, with instrumental overdubs recorded over demos after his death. The best compilation I am aware of is The Memorial Collection, which contains almost everything he issued in his life, as he issued it (for some reason two cover versions are missing) along with the undubbed acoustic recordings that were messed with and released after his death. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript   Before I begin, this episode will deal with both accidental bereavement and miscarriage, so if you think those subjects might be traumatising, you may want to skip this one. Today, we’re going to look at a record that holds a sad place in rock and roll’s history, because it’s the record that is often credited as “the first posthumous rock and roll hit”. Now, that’s not strictly true — as we’ve talked about before in this podcast, there is rarely, if ever, a “first” anything at all, and indeed we’ve already looked at an earlier posthumous hit when we talked about “Pledging My Love” by Johnny Ace. But it is a very sad fact that “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” by Buddy Holly ended up becoming the first of several posthumous hit records that Holly had, and that there would be many more posthumous hit records by other performers after him than there had been before him. Buddy Holly’s death is something that hangs over every attempt to tell his story. More than any other musician of his generation, his death has entered rock and roll mythology. Even if you don’t know Holly’s music, you probably know two things about him — that he wore glasses, and that he died in a plane crash. You’re likely also to know that Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper died in the same crash, even if you don’t know any of the songs that either of those two artists recorded. Normally, when you’re telling a story, you’d leave that to the end, but in the case of Holly it overshadows his life so much that there’s absolutely no point trying to build up any suspense — not to mention that there’s something distasteful about turning a real person’s tragic death into entertainment. I hope I’ve not done so in episodes where other people have died, but it’s even more important not to do so here. Because while the death of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper is always portrayed as an accident, the cause of their death has its roots in exploitation of young, vulnerable, people, and a pressure to work no matter what. So today, we’re going to look at how “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” became Buddy Holly’s last single: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “It Doesn’t Matter Any More”] People often talk about how Buddy Holly’s career was short, but what they don’t mention is that his chart career was even shorter. Holly’s first chart single, “That’ll Be the Day”, was released in May 1957. His last top thirty single during his lifetime, “Think it Over”, was released in May 1958. By the time he went on the Winter Dance Party, the tour that led to his death, in January 1959, he had gone many months without a hit, and his most recent record, “Heartbeat”, had only reached number eighty-two. He’d lost every important professional relationship in his life, and had split from the group that had made him famous. To see how this happened, we need to pick up where we left off with him last time. You’ll remember that when we left the Crickets, they’d released “That’ll Be the Day”, and it hadn’t yet become a hit, and they’d also released “Words of Love” as a Buddy Holly solo single. While there were different names on them, the same people would make the records, whether it was a solo or group record — Buddy Holly on vocals and lead guitar, Niki Sullivan on rhythm guitar, Jerry Allison on drums, Joe Mauldin on bass, and producer Norman Petty and his wife sometimes adding keyboards. They didn’t distinguish between “Buddy Holly” and “Crickets” material when recording — rather they separated it out later. The more straight-ahead rock and roll records would have backing vocals overdubbed on them, usually by a vocal group called the Picks, and would be released as Crickets records, while the more experimental ones would be left with only Holly’s vocal on, and would be released as solo records. (There were no records released as by “Buddy Holly and the Crickets” at the time, because the whole idea of the split was that DJs would play two records instead of one if they appeared to be by different artists). And they were recording *a lot*. Two days after “That’ll be the Day” was released, on the twenty-seventh of May 1957, they recorded “Everyday” and “Not Fade Away”. Between then and the first of July they recorded “Tell Me How”, “Oh Boy”, “Listen to Me”, “I’m Going to Love You Too”, and cover versions of Fats Domino’s “Valley of Tears” and Little Richard’s “Ready Teddy”. Remember, this was all before they’d had a single hit — “That’ll Be the Day” and “Words of Love” still hadn’t charted. This is quite an astonishing outpouring of songs, but the big leap forward came on the second of July, when they made a second attempt at a song they’d attempted to record back in late 1956, and had been playing in their stage show since then. The song had originally been titled “Cindy Lou”, after Buddy’s niece, but Jerry Allison had recently started dating a girl named Peggy Sue Gerrison, and they decided to change the lyrics to be about her. The song had also originally been played as a Latin-flavoured number, but when they were warming up, Allison started playing a fast paradiddle on his snare drum. Holly decided that they were going to change the tempo of the song and have Allison play that part all the way through, though this meant that Allison had to go out and play in the hallway rather than in the main studio, because the noise from his drums was too loud in the studio itself. The final touch came when Petty decided, on the song’s intro, to put the drums through the echo chamber and keep flicking the switch on the echo from “on” to “off”, so it sounded like there were two drummers playing: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Peggy Sue”] Someone else was flicking a switch, too — Niki Sullivan was already starting to regret joining the Crickets, because there really wasn’t room for his rhythm guitar on most of the songs they were playing. And on “Peggy Sue” he ended up not playing at all. On that song, Buddy had to switch between two pickups — one for when he was singing, and another to give his guitar a different tone during the solo. But he was playing so fast that he couldn’t move his hand to the switch, and in those days there were no foot pedals one could use for the same sort of effect. So Niki Sullivan became Holly’s foot pedal. He knelt beside Holly and waited for the point when the solo was about to start, and flicked the switch on his guitar. When the solo came to an end again, Sullivan flicked the switch again and it went back to the original sound. [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Peggy Sue”] It’s a really strange sounding record, if you start to pay attention to it. Other than during the solo, Holly’s guitar is so quiet that you can hear the plectrum as loudly as you can hear the notes. He just keeps up a ram-a-ram-a quaver downstrum throughout the whole song, which sounds simple until you try to play it, at which point you realise that you start feeling like your arm’s going to fall off about a quarter of the way through. And there’s just that, those drums (playing a part which must be similarly physically demanding) with their weird echo, and Holly’s voice. In theory, Joe Mauldin’s bass is also in there, but it’s there at almost homeopathic levels. It’s a record that is entirely carried by the voice, the drums, and the guitar solo. Of course, Niki Sullivan wasn’t happy about being relegated to guitar-switch-flicker, and there were other tensions within the group as well. Holly was having an affair with a married woman at the time — and Jerry Allison, who was Holly’s best friend as well as his bandmate, was also in love with her, though not in a relationship with her, and so Holly had to keep his affair hidden from his best friend. And not only that, but Allison and Sullivan were starting to have problems with each other, too. To help defuse the situation, Holly’s brother Larry took him on holiday, to go fishing in Colorado. But even there, the stress of the current situation was showing — Buddy spent much of the trip worried about the lack of success of “That’ll Be the Day”, and obsessing over a new record by a new singer, Paul Anka, that had gone to number one: [Excerpt: Paul Anka, “Diana”] Holly was insistent that he could do better than that, and that his records were at least as good. But so far they were doing nothing at all on the charts. But then a strange thing happened. “That’ll Be the Day” started getting picked up by black radio stations. It turned out that there had been another group called the Crickets — a black doo-wop group from about five years earlier, led by a singer called Dean Barlow, who had specialised in smooth Ink Spots-style ballads: [Excerpt The Crickets featuring Dean Barlow, “Be Faithful”] People at black radio stations had assumed that this new group called the Crickets was the same one, and had then discovered that “That’ll Be the Day” was really rather good. The group even got booked on an otherwise all-black tour headlined by Clyde McPhatter and Otis Rush, booked by people who hadn’t realised they were white. Before going on the tour, they formally arranged to have Norman Petty be their manager as well as their producer. They were a success on the tour, though when it reached the Harlem Apollo, which had notoriously hostile audiences, the group had to reconfigure their sets, as the audiences didn’t like any of Holly’s original material except “That’ll Be the Day”, but did like the group’s cover versions of R&B records like “Bo Diddley”: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Bo Diddley (Undubbed Version)”] Some have said that the Crickets were the first white act to play the Apollo. That’s not the case — Bobby Darin had played there before them, and I think so had the jazz drummer Buddy Rich, and maybe one or two others. But it was still a rarity, and the Crickets had to work hard to win the audience around. After they finished that tour, they moved on to a residency at the Brooklyn Paramount, on an Alan Freed show that also featured Little Richard and Larry Williams — who the Crickets met for the first time when they walked into the dressing room to find Richard and Williams engaged in a threesome with Richard’s girlfriend. During that engagement at the Paramount, the tensions within the group reached boiling point. Niki Sullivan, who was in an awful mood because he was trying to quit smoking, revealed the truth about Holly’s affair to Allison, and the group got in a fist-fight. According to Sullivan — who seems not to have always been the most reliable of interviewees — Sullivan gave Jerry Allison a black eye, and then straight away they had to go to the rooftop to take the photo for the group’s first album, The “Chirping” Crickets. Sullivan says that while the photo was retouched to hide the black eye, it’s still visible, though I can’t see it myself. After this, they went into a three-month tour on a giant package of stars featuring Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Paul Anka, the Everly Brothers, the Bobbettes, the Drifters, LaVern Baker, and many more. By this point, both “That’ll Be the Day” and “Peggy Sue” had risen up the charts — “That’ll Be the Day” eventually went to number one, while “Peggy Sue” hit number three — and the next Crickets single, “Oh Boy!” was also charting. “Oh Boy!” had originally been written by an acquaintance of the band, Sonny West, who had recorded his own version as “All My Love” a short while earlier: [Excerpt: Sonny West, “All My Love”] Glen Hardin, the piano player on that track, would later join a lineup of the Crickets in the sixties (and later still would be Elvis’ piano player and arranger in the seventies). Holly would later also cover another of West’s songs, “Rave On”. The Crickets’ version of “Oh Boy!” was recorded at a faster tempo, and became another major hit, their last top ten: [Excerpt: The Crickets, “Oh Boy!”] Around the time that came out, Eddie Cochran joined the tour, and like the Everly Brothers he became fast friends with the group. The group also made an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, with Holly, Mauldin, and Allison enthusiastically performing “That’ll Be the Day” and “Peggy Sue”, and Sullivan enthusiastically miming and playing an unplugged guitar. Sullivan was becoming more and more sidelined in the group, and when they returned to Lubbock at the end of the tour — during which he’d ended up breaking down and crying — he decided he was going to quit the group. Sullivan tried to have a solo career, releasing “It’s All Over” on Dot Records: [Excerpt: Niki Sullivan, “It’s All Over”] But he had no success, and ended up working in electronics, and in later years also making money from the Buddy Holly nostalgia industry. He’d only toured as a member of the group for a total of ninety days, though he’d been playing with them in the studio for a few months before that, and he’d played on a total of twenty-seven of the thirty-two songs that Holly or the Crickets would release in Holly’s lifetime. While he’d been promised an equal share of the group’s income — and Petty had also promised Sullivan, like all the other Crickets, that he would pay 10% of his income to his church — Sullivan got into endless battles with Petty over seeing the group’s accounts, which Petty wouldn’t show him, and eventually settled for getting just $1000, ten percent of the recording royalties just for the single “That’ll Be the Day”, and co-writing royalties on one song, “I’m Going to Love You Too”. His church didn’t get a cent. Meanwhile, Petty was busy trying to widen the rifts in the group. He decided that while the records would still be released as either “Buddy Holly” or “the Crickets”, as a live act they would from now on be billed as “Buddy Holly and the Crickets”, a singer and his backing group, and that while Mauldin and Allison would continue to get twenty-five percent of the money each, Holly would be on fifty percent. This was an easy decision, since Petty was handling all the money and only giving the group pocket money rather than giving them their actual shares of the money they’d earned. The group spent all of 1958 touring, visiting Hawaii, Australia, the UK, and all over the US, including the famous last ever Alan Freed tour that we looked at recently in episodes on Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. They got in another guitarist, Tommy Allsup, who took over the lead role while Buddy played rhythm, and who joined them on tour, though he wasn’t an official member of the group. The first recording Allsup played on was “It’s So Easy”: [Excerpt: The Crickets, “It’s So Easy”] But the group’s records were selling less and less well. Holly was getting worried, and there was another factor that came into play. On a visit to New York, stopping in to visit their publisher in the Brill Building, all three of the Crickets became attracted to the receptionist, a Puerto Rican woman named Maria Elena Santiago who was a few years older than them. They all started to joke about which of them would ask her out, and Holly eventually did so. It turned out that while Maria Elena was twenty-five, she’d never yet been on a date, and she had to ask the permission of her aunt, who she lived with, and who was also the head of the Latin-American division of the publishing company. The aunt rang round every business contact she had, satisfied herself that Buddy was a nice boy, and gave her blessing for the date. The next day, she was giving her blessing for the two to marry — Buddy proposed on the very first date. They eventually went on a joint honeymoon with Jerry Allison and Peggy Sue. But Maria Elena was someone who worked in the music industry, and was a little bit older, and she started saying things to Buddy like “You need to get a proper accounting of the money that’s owed you”, and “You should be getting paid”. This strained his relationship with Petty, who didn’t want any woman of colour butting her nose in and getting involved in his business. Buddy moved to a flat in Greenwich Village with Maria Elena, but for the moment he was still working with Petty, even after Petty used some extremely misogynistic slurs I’m not going to repeat here against his new wife. But he was worried about his lack of hits, and they tried a few different variations on the formula. The Crickets recorded one song, a cover version of a song they’d learned on the Australian tour, with Jerry Allison singing lead. It was released under the name “Ivan” — Allison’s middle name — and became a minor hit: [Excerpt: Ivan, “Real Wild Child”] They tried more and more different things, like getting King Curtis in to play saxophone on “Reminiscing”, and on one occasion dispensing with the Crickets entirely and having Buddy cut a Bobby Darin song, “Early in the Morning”, with other musicians. They were stockpiling recordings much faster than they could release them, but the releases weren’t doing well at all. “It’s So Easy” didn’t even reach the top one hundred. Holly was also working with other artists. In September, he produced a session for his friend Waylon Jennings, who would later become a huge country star. It was Jennings’ first ever session, and they turned out an interesting version of the old Cajun song “Jole Blon”, which had earlier been a hit for Moon Mullican. This version had Holly on guitar and King Curtis on saxophone, and is a really interesting attempt at blending Cajun music with R&B: [Excerpt: Waylon Jennings, “Jole Blon”] But Holly’s biggest hope was placed in a session that was really breaking new ground. No rock and roll singer had ever recorded with a full string section before — at least as far as he was aware, and bearing in mind that, as we’ve seen many times, there’s never truly a first anything. In October 1958, Holly went into the studio with the Dick Jacobs Orchestra, with the intention of recording three songs — his own “True Love Ways”, a song called “Moondreams” written by Petty, and one called “Raining in My Heart” written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, who’d written many hits for his friends the Everly Brothers. At the last minute, though, he decided to record a fourth song, which had been written for him by Paul Anka, the same kid whose “Diana” had been so irritating to him the year before. He played through the song on his guitar for Dick Jacobs, who only had a short while to write the arrangement, and so stuck to the simplest thing he could think of, basing it around pizzicato violins: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “It Doesn’t Matter Any More”] At that point, everything still seemed like it could work out OK. Norman Petty and the other Crickets were all there at the recording session, cheering Buddy on. That night the Crickets appeared on American Bandstand, miming to “It’s So Easy”. That would be the last time they ever performed together, and soon there would be an irreparable split that would lead directly to Holly’s death — and to his posthumous fame. Holly was getting sick of Norman Petty’s continual withholding of royalties, and he’d come up with a plan. The Crickets would, as a group, confront Petty, get him to give them the money he owed them, and then all move to New York together to start up their own record label and publishing company. They’d stop touring, and focus on making records, and this would allow them the time to get things right and try new things out, which would lead to them having hits again, and they could also produce records for their friends like Waylon Jennings and Sonny Curtis. It was a good plan, and it might have worked, but it relied on them getting that money off Norman Petty. When the other two got back to Texas, Petty started manipulating them. He told them they were small-town Texas boys who would never be able to live in the big city. He told them that they didn’t need Buddy Holly, and that they could carry on making Crickets records without him. He told them that Maria Elena was manipulating Buddy, and that if they went off to New York with him it would be her who was in charge of the group from that point on. And he also pointed out that he was currently the only signatory on the group’s bank account, and it would be a real shame if something happened to all that money. By the time Buddy got back to Texas, the other two Crickets had agreed that they were going to stick with Norman Petty. Petty said it was fine if Buddy wanted to fire him, but he wasn’t getting any money until a full audit had been done of the organisation’s money. Buddy was no longer even going to get the per diem pocket money or expenses he’d been getting. Holly went back to New York, and started writing many, many, more songs, recording dozens of acoustic demos for when he could start his plan up: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Crying, Waiting, Hoping”] It was a massive creative explosion for the young man. He was not only writing songs himself, but he was busily planning to make an album of Latin music, and he was making preparations for two more projects he’d like to do — an album of duets on gospel songs with Mahalia Jackson, and an album of soul duets with Ray Charles. He was going to jazz clubs, and he had ambitions of following Elvis into films, but doing it properly — he enrolled in courses with Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio, to learn Method Acting. Greenwich Village in 1958 was the perfect place for a young man with a huge amount of natural talent and appetite for learning, but little experience of the wider world and culture. But the young couple were living off Maria Elena’s aunt’s generosity, and had no income at all of their own. And then Maria Elena revealed that she was pregnant. And Norman Petty revealed something he’d kept hidden before — by the terms of Buddy’s contract, he hadn’t really been recording for Brunswick or Coral, so they didn’t owe him a penny. He’d been recording for Petty’s company, who then sold the masters on to the other labels, and would get all the royalties. The Crickets bank account into which the royalties had supposedly been being paid, and which Petty had refused to let the band members see, was essentially empty. There was only one thing for it. He had to do another tour. And the only one he could get on was a miserable-seeming affair called the Winter Dance Party. While most of the rock and roll package tours of the time had more than a dozen acts on, this one had only five. There was an opening act called Frankie Sardo, and then Dion and the Belmonts, who had had a few minor hits, and had just recorded, but not yet released, their breakthrough record “Teenager in Love”: [Excerpt: Dion and the Belmonts, “Teenager in Love”] Then there was the Big Bopper, who was actually a fairly accomplished songwriter but was touring on the basis of his one hit, a novelty song called “Chantilly Lace”: [Excerpt: the Big Bopper, “Chantilly Lace”] And Ritchie Valens, whose hit “Donna” was rising up the charts in a way that “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” was notably failing to do: [Excerpt: Ritchie Valens, “Donna”] Buddy put together a new touring band consisting of Tommy Allsup on guitar, Waylon Jennings on bass — who had never played bass before starting the tour — and a drummer called Carl Bunch. For a while it looked like Buddy’s friend Eddie Cochran was going to go on tour with them as well, but shortly before the tour started Cochran got an offer to do the Ed Sullivan Show, which would have clashed with the tour dates, and so he didn’t make it. Maria Elena was very insistent that she didn’t want Buddy to go, but he felt that he had no choice if he was going to support his new child. The Winter Dance Party toured Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota, through the end of January and the beginning of February 1959, and the conditions were miserable for everyone concerned. The tour had been put together with no thought of logistics, and it zig-zagged wildly across those three states, with gigs often four hundred miles away from each other. The musicians had to sleep on the tour bus — or buses. The tour was being run on a shoe-string, and they’d gone with the cheapest vehicle-hire company possible. They went through, according to one biography I’ve read, eight different buses in eleven days, as none of the buses were able to cope with the Midwestern winter, and their engines kept failing and the heating on several of the buses broke down. I don’t know if you’ve spent any time in that part of America in the winter, but I go there for Christmas every year (my wife has family in Minnesota) and it’s unimaginably cold in a way you can’t understand unless you’ve experienced it. It’s not unusual for temperatures to drop to as low as minus forty degrees, and to have three feet or more of snow. Travelling in a bus, with no heating, in that weather, all packed together, was hell for everyone. The Big Bopper and Valens were both fat, and couldn’t fit in the small seats easily. Several people on the tour, including Bopper and Valens, got the flu. And then finally Carl Bunch got hospitalised with frostbite. Buddy’s band, which was backing everyone on stage, now had no drummer, and so for the next three days of the tour Holly, Dion, and Valens would all take it in turns playing the drums, as all of them were adequate drummers. The shows were still good, at least according to a young man named Robert Zimmerman, who saw the first drummerless show, in Duluth Minnesota, and who would move to Greenwich Village himself not that long afterwards. After a show in Clear Lake, Iowa, Buddy had had enough. He decided to charter a plane to take him to Fargo, North Dakota, which was just near Moorhead, Minnesota, where they were planning on playing their next show. He’d take everyone’s laundry — everyone stank and had been wearing the same clothes for days — and get it washed, and get some sleep in a real bed. The original plan was to have Allsup and Jennings travel with him, but eventually they gave up their seats to the two other people who were suffering the most — the Big Bopper and Valens. There are different stories about how that happened, most involving a coin-toss, but they all agree that when Buddy found out that Waylon Jennings was giving up his seat, he jokingly said to Jennings “I hope your old bus freezes”, and Jennings replied, “Yeah, well I hope your ol’ plane crashes”. The three of them got on the plane in the middle of the night, on a foggy winter’s night, which would require flying by instruments. Unfortunately, while the pilot on the plane was rated as being a good pilot during the day, he kept almost failing his certification for being bad at flying by instrument. And the plane in question had an unusual type of altitude meter. Where most altitude meters would go up when the plane was going up and down when it was going down, that particular model’s meter went down when the plane was going up, and up when it was going down. The plane took off, and less than five minutes after takeoff, it plummeted straight down, nose first, into the ground at top speed, killing everyone on board instantly. As soon as the news got out, Holly’s last single finally started rising up the charts. It ended up going to number thirteen on the US charts, and number one in many other countries. The aftermath shows how much contempt the music industry — and society itself — had for those musicians at that time. Maria Elena found out about Buddy’s death not from the police, but from the TV — this later prompted changes in how news of celebrity deaths was to be revealed. She was so upset that she miscarried two days later. She was too distraught to attend the funeral, and to this day has still never been able to bring herself to visit her husband’s grave. The grief was just too much. The rest of the people on the tour were forced to continue the remaining thirteen days of the tour without the three acts anyone wanted to go and see, but were also not paid their full wages, because the bill wasn’t as advertised. A new young singer was picked up to round out the bill on the next gig, a young Minnesotan Holly soundalike called Bobby Vee, whose first single, “Suzy Baby”, was just about to come out: [Excerpt: Bobby Vee, “Suzy Baby”] When Vee went on tour on his own, later, he hired that Zimmerman kid we mentioned earlier as his piano player. Zimmerman worked under the stage name Elston Gunn, but would later choose a better one. After that date Holly, Valens, and the Bopper were replaced by Fabian, Frankie Avalon, and Jimmy Clanton, and the tour continued. Meanwhile, the remaining Crickets picked themselves up and carried on. They got Buddy’s old friend Sonny Curtis on guitar, and a succession of Holly-soundalike singers, and continued playing together until Joe Mauldin died in 2015. Most of their records without Buddy weren’t particularly memorable, but they did record one song written by Curtis which would later become a hit for several other people, “I Fought the Law”: [Excerpt: The Crickets, “I Fought the Law”] But the person who ended up benefiting most from Holly’s death was Norman Petty. Suddenly his stockpile of unreleased Buddy Holly recordings was a goldmine — and not only that, he ended up coming to an agreement with Holly’s estate that he could take all those demos Holly had recorded and overdub new backing tracks on them, turning them into full-blown rock and roll songs. Between overdubbed versions of the demos, and stockpiled full-band recordings, Buddy Holly kept having hit singles in the rest of the world until 1965, though none charted in the US, and he made both Petty and his estate very rich. Norman Petty died in 1984. His last project was a still-unreleased “updating” of Buddy’s biggest hits with synthesisers. These days, Buddy Holly is once again on tour, or at least something purporting to be him is. You can now go and see a “hologram tour”, in which an image of a look-not-very-alike actor miming to Holly’s old recordings is projected on glass, using the old Victorian stage trick Pepper’s Ghost, while a live band plays along to the records. Just because you’ve worked someone to death aged twenty-two, doesn’t mean that they can’t still keep earning money for you when they’re eighty-three. And a hologram will never complain about how cold the tour bus is, or want to wash his laundry.

Episode seventy-four of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” by Buddy Holly, and at the reasons he ended up on the plane that killed him. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Chantilly Lace” by the Big Bopper.  Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/—-more—- Before I get to the resources and transcript, a quick apology. This one is up more than a day late. I’ve not been coping very well with all the news about coronavirus outbreak (I’m one of those who’s been advised by the government to sel-isolate for three months) and things are taking longer than normal. Next week’s should be up at the normal time. Also, no Mixcloud this week — I get a server error when uploading the file to Mixcloud’s site. Erratum I mention that Bob Dylan saw the first show on the Winter Dance Party tour with no drummer. He actually saw the last one with the drummer, who was hospitalised that night after the show, not before the show as I had thought.  Resources   I’ve used two biographies for the bulk of the information here — Buddy Holly: Learning the Game, by Spencer Leigh, and Rave On: The Biography of Buddy Holly by Philip Norman. I also used  Beverly Mendheim’s book on Ritchie Valens. There are many collections of Buddy Holly’s work available, but many of them are very shoddy, with instrumental overdubs recorded over demos after his death. The best compilation I am aware of is The Memorial Collection, which contains almost everything he issued in his life, as he issued it (for some reason two cover versions are missing) along with the undubbed acoustic recordings that were messed with and released after his death. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript   Before I begin, this episode will deal with both accidental bereavement and miscarriage, so if you think those subjects might be traumatising, you may want to skip this one. Today, we’re going to look at a record that holds a sad place in rock and roll’s history, because it’s the record that is often credited as “the first posthumous rock and roll hit”. Now, that’s not strictly true — as we’ve talked about before in this podcast, there is rarely, if ever, a “first” anything at all, and indeed we’ve already looked at an earlier posthumous hit when we talked about “Pledging My Love” by Johnny Ace. But it is a very sad fact that “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” by Buddy Holly ended up becoming the first of several posthumous hit records that Holly had, and that there would be many more posthumous hit records by other performers after him than there had been before him. Buddy Holly’s death is something that hangs over every attempt to tell his story. More than any other musician of his generation, his death has entered rock and roll mythology. Even if you don’t know Holly’s music, you probably know two things about him — that he wore glasses, and that he died in a plane crash. You’re likely also to know that Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper died in the same crash, even if you don’t know any of the songs that either of those two artists recorded. Normally, when you’re telling a story, you’d leave that to the end, but in the case of Holly it overshadows his life so much that there’s absolutely no point trying to build up any suspense — not to mention that there’s something distasteful about turning a real person’s tragic death into entertainment. I hope I’ve not done so in episodes where other people have died, but it’s even more important not to do so here. Because while the death of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper is always portrayed as an accident, the cause of their death has its roots in exploitation of young, vulnerable, people, and a pressure to work no matter what. So today, we’re going to look at how “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” became Buddy Holly’s last single: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “It Doesn’t Matter Any More”] People often talk about how Buddy Holly’s career was short, but what they don’t mention is that his chart career was even shorter. Holly’s first chart single, “That’ll Be the Day”, was released in May 1957. His last top thirty single during his lifetime, “Think it Over”, was released in May 1958. By the time he went on the Winter Dance Party, the tour that led to his death, in January 1959, he had gone many months without a hit, and his most recent record, “Heartbeat”, had only reached number eighty-two. He’d lost every important professional relationship in his life, and had split from the group that had made him famous. To see how this happened, we need to pick up where we left off with him last time. You’ll remember that when we left the Crickets, they’d released “That’ll Be the Day”, and it hadn’t yet become a hit, and they’d also released “Words of Love” as a Buddy Holly solo single. While there were different names on them, the same people would make the records, whether it was a solo or group record — Buddy Holly on vocals and lead guitar, Niki Sullivan on rhythm guitar, Jerry Allison on drums, Joe Mauldin on bass, and producer Norman Petty and his wife sometimes adding keyboards. They didn’t distinguish between “Buddy Holly” and “Crickets” material when recording — rather they separated it out later. The more straight-ahead rock and roll records would have backing vocals overdubbed on them, usually by a vocal group called the Picks, and would be released as Crickets records, while the more experimental ones would be left with only Holly’s vocal on, and would be released as solo records. (There were no records released as by “Buddy Holly and the Crickets” at the time, because the whole idea of the split was that DJs would play two records instead of one if they appeared to be by different artists). And they were recording *a lot*. Two days after “That’ll be the Day” was released, on the twenty-seventh of May 1957, they recorded “Everyday” and “Not Fade Away”. Between then and the first of July they recorded “Tell Me How”, “Oh Boy”, “Listen to Me”, “I’m Going to Love You Too”, and cover versions of Fats Domino’s “Valley of Tears” and Little Richard’s “Ready Teddy”. Remember, this was all before they’d had a single hit — “That’ll Be the Day” and “Words of Love” still hadn’t charted. This is quite an astonishing outpouring of songs, but the big leap forward came on the second of July, when they made a second attempt at a song they’d attempted to record back in late 1956, and had been playing in their stage show since then. The song had originally been titled “Cindy Lou”, after Buddy’s niece, but Jerry Allison had recently started dating a girl named Peggy Sue Gerrison, and they decided to change the lyrics to be about her. The song had also originally been played as a Latin-flavoured number, but when they were warming up, Allison started playing a fast paradiddle on his snare drum. Holly decided that they were going to change the tempo of the song and have Allison play that part all the way through, though this meant that Allison had to go out and play in the hallway rather than in the main studio, because the noise from his drums was too loud in the studio itself. The final touch came when Petty decided, on the song’s intro, to put the drums through the echo chamber and keep flicking the switch on the echo from “on” to “off”, so it sounded like there were two drummers playing: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Peggy Sue”] Someone else was flicking a switch, too — Niki Sullivan was already starting to regret joining the Crickets, because there really wasn’t room for his rhythm guitar on most of the songs they were playing. And on “Peggy Sue” he ended up not playing at all. On that song, Buddy had to switch between two pickups — one for when he was singing, and another to give his guitar a different tone during the solo. But he was playing so fast that he couldn’t move his hand to the switch, and in those days there were no foot pedals one could use for the same sort of effect. So Niki Sullivan became Holly’s foot pedal. He knelt beside Holly and waited for the point when the solo was about to start, and flicked the switch on his guitar. When the solo came to an end again, Sullivan flicked the switch again and it went back to the original sound. [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Peggy Sue”] It’s a really strange sounding record, if you start to pay attention to it. Other than during the solo, Holly’s guitar is so quiet that you can hear the plectrum as loudly as you can hear the notes. He just keeps up a ram-a-ram-a quaver downstrum throughout the whole song, which sounds simple until you try to play it, at which point you realise that you start feeling like your arm’s going to fall off about a quarter of the way through. And there’s just that, those drums (playing a part which must be similarly physically demanding) with their weird echo, and Holly’s voice. In theory, Joe Mauldin’s bass is also in there, but it’s there at almost homeopathic levels. It’s a record that is entirely carried by the voice, the drums, and the guitar solo. Of course, Niki Sullivan wasn’t happy about being relegated to guitar-switch-flicker, and there were other tensions within the group as well. Holly was having an affair with a married woman at the time — and Jerry Allison, who was Holly’s best friend as well as his bandmate, was also in love with her, though not in a relationship with her, and so Holly had to keep his affair hidden from his best friend. And not only that, but Allison and Sullivan were starting to have problems with each other, too. To help defuse the situation, Holly’s brother Larry took him on holiday, to go fishing in Colorado. But even there, the stress of the current situation was showing — Buddy spent much of the trip worried about the lack of success of “That’ll Be the Day”, and obsessing over a new record by a new singer, Paul Anka, that had gone to number one: [Excerpt: Paul Anka, “Diana”] Holly was insistent that he could do better than that, and that his records were at least as good. But so far they were doing nothing at all on the charts. But then a strange thing happened. “That’ll Be the Day” started getting picked up by black radio stations. It turned out that there had been another group called the Crickets — a black doo-wop group from about five years earlier, led by a singer called Dean Barlow, who had specialised in smooth Ink Spots-style ballads: [Excerpt The Crickets featuring Dean Barlow, “Be Faithful”] People at black radio stations had assumed that this new group called the Crickets was the same one, and had then discovered that “That’ll Be the Day” was really rather good. The group even got booked on an otherwise all-black tour headlined by Clyde McPhatter and Otis Rush, booked by people who hadn’t realised they were white. Before going on the tour, they formally arranged to have Norman Petty be their manager as well as their producer. They were a success on the tour, though when it reached the Harlem Apollo, which had notoriously hostile audiences, the group had to reconfigure their sets, as the audiences didn’t like any of Holly’s original material except “That’ll Be the Day”, but did like the group’s cover versions of R&B records like “Bo Diddley”: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Bo Diddley (Undubbed Version)”] Some have said that the Crickets were the first white act to play the Apollo. That’s not the case — Bobby Darin had played there before them, and I think so had the jazz drummer Buddy Rich, and maybe one or two others. But it was still a rarity, and the Crickets had to work hard to win the audience around. After they finished that tour, they moved on to a residency at the Brooklyn Paramount, on an Alan Freed show that also featured Little Richard and Larry Williams — who the Crickets met for the first time when they walked into the dressing room to find Richard and Williams engaged in a threesome with Richard’s girlfriend. During that engagement at the Paramount, the tensions within the group reached boiling point. Niki Sullivan, who was in an awful mood because he was trying to quit smoking, revealed the truth about Holly’s affair to Allison, and the group got in a fist-fight. According to Sullivan — who seems not to have always been the most reliable of interviewees — Sullivan gave Jerry Allison a black eye, and then straight away they had to go to the rooftop to take the photo for the group’s first album, The “Chirping” Crickets. Sullivan says that while the photo was retouched to hide the black eye, it’s still visible, though I can’t see it myself. After this, they went into a three-month tour on a giant package of stars featuring Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Paul Anka, the Everly Brothers, the Bobbettes, the Drifters, LaVern Baker, and many more. By this point, both “That’ll Be the Day” and “Peggy Sue” had risen up the charts — “That’ll Be the Day” eventually went to number one, while “Peggy Sue” hit number three — and the next Crickets single, “Oh Boy!” was also charting. “Oh Boy!” had originally been written by an acquaintance of the band, Sonny West, who had recorded his own version as “All My Love” a short while earlier: [Excerpt: Sonny West, “All My Love”] Glen Hardin, the piano player on that track, would later join a lineup of the Crickets in the sixties (and later still would be Elvis’ piano player and arranger in the seventies). Holly would later also cover another of West’s songs, “Rave On”. The Crickets’ version of “Oh Boy!” was recorded at a faster tempo, and became another major hit, their last top ten: [Excerpt: The Crickets, “Oh Boy!”] Around the time that came out, Eddie Cochran joined the tour, and like the Everly Brothers he became fast friends with the group. The group also made an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, with Holly, Mauldin, and Allison enthusiastically performing “That’ll Be the Day” and “Peggy Sue”, and Sullivan enthusiastically miming and playing an unplugged guitar. Sullivan was becoming more and more sidelined in the group, and when they returned to Lubbock at the end of the tour — during which he’d ended up breaking down and crying — he decided he was going to quit the group. Sullivan tried to have a solo career, releasing “It’s All Over” on Dot Records: [Excerpt: Niki Sullivan, “It’s All Over”] But he had no success, and ended up working in electronics, and in later years also making money from the Buddy Holly nostalgia industry. He’d only toured as a member of the group for a total of ninety days, though he’d been playing with them in the studio for a few months before that, and he’d played on a total of twenty-seven of the thirty-two songs that Holly or the Crickets would release in Holly’s lifetime. While he’d been promised an equal share of the group’s income — and Petty had also promised Sullivan, like all the other Crickets, that he would pay 10% of his income to his church — Sullivan got into endless battles with Petty over seeing the group’s accounts, which Petty wouldn’t show him, and eventually settled for getting just $1000, ten percent of the recording royalties just for the single “That’ll Be the Day”, and co-writing royalties on one song, “I’m Going to Love You Too”. His church didn’t get a cent. Meanwhile, Petty was busy trying to widen the rifts in the group. He decided that while the records would still be released as either “Buddy Holly” or “the Crickets”, as a live act they would from now on be billed as “Buddy Holly and the Crickets”, a singer and his backing group, and that while Mauldin and Allison would continue to get twenty-five percent of the money each, Holly would be on fifty percent. This was an easy decision, since Petty was handling all the money and only giving the group pocket money rather than giving them their actual shares of the money they’d earned. The group spent all of 1958 touring, visiting Hawaii, Australia, the UK, and all over the US, including the famous last ever Alan Freed tour that we looked at recently in episodes on Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. They got in another guitarist, Tommy Allsup, who took over the lead role while Buddy played rhythm, and who joined them on tour, though he wasn’t an official member of the group. The first recording Allsup played on was “It’s So Easy”: [Excerpt: The Crickets, “It’s So Easy”] But the group’s records were selling less and less well. Holly was getting worried, and there was another factor that came into play. On a visit to New York, stopping in to visit their publisher in the Brill Building, all three of the Crickets became attracted to the receptionist, a Puerto Rican woman named Maria Elena Santiago who was a few years older than them. They all started to joke about which of them would ask her out, and Holly eventually did so. It turned out that while Maria Elena was twenty-five, she’d never yet been on a date, and she had to ask the permission of her aunt, who she lived with, and who was also the head of the Latin-American division of the publishing company. The aunt rang round every business contact she had, satisfied herself that Buddy was a nice boy, and gave her blessing for the date. The next day, she was giving her blessing for the two to marry — Buddy proposed on the very first date. They eventually went on a joint honeymoon with Jerry Allison and Peggy Sue. But Maria Elena was someone who worked in the music industry, and was a little bit older, and she started saying things to Buddy like “You need to get a proper accounting of the money that’s owed you”, and “You should be getting paid”. This strained his relationship with Petty, who didn’t want any woman of colour butting her nose in and getting involved in his business. Buddy moved to a flat in Greenwich Village with Maria Elena, but for the moment he was still working with Petty, even after Petty used some extremely misogynistic slurs I’m not going to repeat here against his new wife. But he was worried about his lack of hits, and they tried a few different variations on the formula. The Crickets recorded one song, a cover version of a song they’d learned on the Australian tour, with Jerry Allison singing lead. It was released under the name “Ivan” — Allison’s middle name — and became a minor hit: [Excerpt: Ivan, “Real Wild Child”] They tried more and more different things, like getting King Curtis in to play saxophone on “Reminiscing”, and on one occasion dispensing with the Crickets entirely and having Buddy cut a Bobby Darin song, “Early in the Morning”, with other musicians. They were stockpiling recordings much faster than they could release them, but the releases weren’t doing well at all. “It’s So Easy” didn’t even reach the top one hundred. Holly was also working with other artists. In September, he produced a session for his friend Waylon Jennings, who would later become a huge country star. It was Jennings’ first ever session, and they turned out an interesting version of the old Cajun song “Jole Blon”, which had earlier been a hit for Moon Mullican. This version had Holly on guitar and King Curtis on saxophone, and is a really interesting attempt at blending Cajun music with R&B: [Excerpt: Waylon Jennings, “Jole Blon”] But Holly’s biggest hope was placed in a session that was really breaking new ground. No rock and roll singer had ever recorded with a full string section before — at least as far as he was aware, and bearing in mind that, as we’ve seen many times, there’s never truly a first anything. In October 1958, Holly went into the studio with the Dick Jacobs Orchestra, with the intention of recording three songs — his own “True Love Ways”, a song called “Moondreams” written by Petty, and one called “Raining in My Heart” written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, who’d written many hits for his friends the Everly Brothers. At the last minute, though, he decided to record a fourth song, which had been written for him by Paul Anka, the same kid whose “Diana” had been so irritating to him the year before. He played through the song on his guitar for Dick Jacobs, who only had a short while to write the arrangement, and so stuck to the simplest thing he could think of, basing it around pizzicato violins: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “It Doesn’t Matter Any More”] At that point, everything still seemed like it could work out OK. Norman Petty and the other Crickets were all there at the recording session, cheering Buddy on. That night the Crickets appeared on American Bandstand, miming to “It’s So Easy”. That would be the last time they ever performed together, and soon there would be an irreparable split that would lead directly to Holly’s death — and to his posthumous fame. Holly was getting sick of Norman Petty’s continual withholding of royalties, and he’d come up with a plan. The Crickets would, as a group, confront Petty, get him to give them the money he owed them, and then all move to New York together to start up their own record label and publishing company. They’d stop touring, and focus on making records, and this would allow them the time to get things right and try new things out, which would lead to them having hits again, and they could also produce records for their friends like Waylon Jennings and Sonny Curtis. It was a good plan, and it might have worked, but it relied on them getting that money off Norman Petty. When the other two got back to Texas, Petty started manipulating them. He told them they were small-town Texas boys who would never be able to live in the big city. He told them that they didn’t need Buddy Holly, and that they could carry on making Crickets records without him. He told them that Maria Elena was manipulating Buddy, and that if they went off to New York with him it would be her who was in charge of the group from that point on. And he also pointed out that he was currently the only signatory on the group’s bank account, and it would be a real shame if something happened to all that money. By the time Buddy got back to Texas, the other two Crickets had agreed that they were going to stick with Norman Petty. Petty said it was fine if Buddy wanted to fire him, but he wasn’t getting any money until a full audit had been done of the organisation’s money. Buddy was no longer even going to get the per diem pocket money or expenses he’d been getting. Holly went back to New York, and started writing many, many, more songs, recording dozens of acoustic demos for when he could start his plan up: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Crying, Waiting, Hoping”] It was a massive creative explosion for the young man. He was not only writing songs himself, but he was busily planning to make an album of Latin music, and he was making preparations for two more projects he’d like to do — an album of duets on gospel songs with Mahalia Jackson, and an album of soul duets with Ray Charles. He was going to jazz clubs, and he had ambitions of following Elvis into films, but doing it properly — he enrolled in courses with Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio, to learn Method Acting. Greenwich Village in 1958 was the perfect place for a young man with a huge amount of natural talent and appetite for learning, but little experience of the wider world and culture. But the young couple were living off Maria Elena’s aunt’s generosity, and had no income at all of their own. And then Maria Elena revealed that she was pregnant. And Norman Petty revealed something he’d kept hidden before — by the terms of Buddy’s contract, he hadn’t really been recording for Brunswick or Coral, so they didn’t owe him a penny. He’d been recording for Petty’s company, who then sold the masters on to the other labels, and would get all the royalties. The Crickets bank account into which the royalties had supposedly been being paid, and which Petty had refused to let the band members see, was essentially empty. There was only one thing for it. He had to do another tour. And the only one he could get on was a miserable-seeming affair called the Winter Dance Party. While most of the rock and roll package tours of the time had more than a dozen acts on, this one had only five. There was an opening act called Frankie Sardo, and then Dion and the Belmonts, who had had a few minor hits, and had just recorded, but not yet released, their breakthrough record “Teenager in Love”: [Excerpt: Dion and the Belmonts, “Teenager in Love”] Then there was the Big Bopper, who was actually a fairly accomplished songwriter but was touring on the basis of his one hit, a novelty song called “Chantilly Lace”: [Excerpt: the Big Bopper, “Chantilly Lace”] And Ritchie Valens, whose hit “Donna” was rising up the charts in a way that “It Doesn’t Matter Any More” was notably failing to do: [Excerpt: Ritchie Valens, “Donna”] Buddy put together a new touring band consisting of Tommy Allsup on guitar, Waylon Jennings on bass — who had never played bass before starting the tour — and a drummer called Carl Bunch. For a while it looked like Buddy’s friend Eddie Cochran was going to go on tour with them as well, but shortly before the tour started Cochran got an offer to do the Ed Sullivan Show, which would have clashed with the tour dates, and so he didn’t make it. Maria Elena was very insistent that she didn’t want Buddy to go, but he felt that he had no choice if he was going to support his new child. The Winter Dance Party toured Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota, through the end of January and the beginning of February 1959, and the conditions were miserable for everyone concerned. The tour had been put together with no thought of logistics, and it zig-zagged wildly across those three states, with gigs often four hundred miles away from each other. The musicians had to sleep on the tour bus — or buses. The tour was being run on a shoe-string, and they’d gone with the cheapest vehicle-hire company possible. They went through, according to one biography I’ve read, eight different buses in eleven days, as none of the buses were able to cope with the Midwestern winter, and their engines kept failing and the heating on several of the buses broke down. I don’t know if you’ve spent any time in that part of America in the winter, but I go there for Christmas every year (my wife has family in Minnesota) and it’s unimaginably cold in a way you can’t understand unless you’ve experienced it. It’s not unusual for temperatures to drop to as low as minus forty degrees, and to have three feet or more of snow. Travelling in a bus, with no heating, in that weather, all packed together, was hell for everyone. The Big Bopper and Valens were both fat, and couldn’t fit in the small seats easily. Several people on the tour, including Bopper and Valens, got the flu. And then finally Carl Bunch got hospitalised with frostbite. Buddy’s band, which was backing everyone on stage, now had no drummer, and so for the next three days of the tour Holly, Dion, and Valens would all take it in turns playing the drums, as all of them were adequate drummers. The shows were still good, at least according to a young man named Robert Zimmerman, who saw the first drummerless show, in Duluth Minnesota, and who would move to Greenwich Village himself not that long afterwards. After a show in Clear Lake, Iowa, Buddy had had enough. He decided to charter a plane to take him to Fargo, North Dakota, which was just near Moorhead, Minnesota, where they were planning on playing their next show. He’d take everyone’s laundry — everyone stank and had been wearing the same clothes for days — and get it washed, and get some sleep in a real bed. The original plan was to have Allsup and Jennings travel with him, but eventually they gave up their seats to the two other people who were suffering the most — the Big Bopper and Valens. There are different stories about how that happened, most involving a coin-toss, but they all agree that when Buddy found out that Waylon Jennings was giving up his seat, he jokingly said to Jennings “I hope your old bus freezes”, and Jennings replied, “Yeah, well I hope your ol’ plane crashes”. The three of them got on the plane in the middle of the night, on a foggy winter’s night, which would require flying by instruments. Unfortunately, while the pilot on the plane was rated as being a good pilot during the day, he kept almost failing his certification for being bad at flying by instrument. And the plane in question had an unusual type of altitude meter. Where most altitude meters would go up when the plane was going up and down when it was going down, that particular model’s meter went down when the plane was going up, and up when it was going down. The plane took off, and less than five minutes after takeoff, it plummeted straight down, nose first, into the ground at top speed, killing everyone on board instantly. As soon as the news got out, Holly’s last single finally started rising up the charts. It ended up going to number thirteen on the US charts, and number one in many other countries. The aftermath shows how much contempt the music industry — and society itself — had for those musicians at that time. Maria Elena found out about Buddy’s death not from the police, but from the TV — this later prompted changes in how news of celebrity deaths was to be revealed. She was so upset that she miscarried two days later. She was too distraught to attend the funeral, and to this day has still never been able to bring herself to visit her husband’s grave. The grief was just too much. The rest of the people on the tour were forced to continue the remaining thirteen days of the tour without the three acts anyone wanted to go and see, but were also not paid their full wages, because the bill wasn’t as advertised. A new young singer was picked up to round out the bill on the next gig, a young Minnesotan Holly soundalike called Bobby Vee, whose first single, “Suzy Baby”, was just about to come out: [Excerpt: Bobby Vee, “Suzy Baby”] When Vee went on tour on his own, later, he hired that Zimmerman kid we mentioned earlier as his piano player. Zimmerman worked under the stage name Elston Gunn, but would later choose a better one. After that date Holly, Valens, and the Bopper were replaced by Fabian, Frankie Avalon, and Jimmy Clanton, and the tour continued. Meanwhile, the remaining Crickets picked themselves up and carried on. They got Buddy’s old friend Sonny Curtis on guitar, and a succession of Holly-soundalike singers, and continued playing together until Joe Mauldin died in 2015. Most of their records without Buddy weren’t particularly memorable, but they did record one song written by Curtis which would later become a hit for several other people, “I Fought the Law”: [Excerpt: The Crickets, “I Fought the Law”] But the person who ended up benefiting most from Holly’s death was Norman Petty. Suddenly his stockpile of unreleased Buddy Holly recordings was a goldmine — and not only that, he ended up coming to an agreement with Holly’s estate that he could take all those demos Holly had recorded and overdub new backing tracks on them, turning them into full-blown rock and roll songs. Between overdubbed versions of the demos, and stockpiled full-band recordings, Buddy Holly kept having hit singles in the rest of the world until 1965, though none charted in the US, and he made both Petty and his estate very rich. Norman Petty died in 1984. His last project was a still-unreleased “updating” of Buddy’s biggest hits with synthesisers. These days, Buddy Holly is once again on tour, or at least something purporting to be him is. You can now go and see a “hologram tour”, in which an image of a look-not-very-alike actor miming to Holly’s old recordings is projected on glass, using the old Victorian stage trick Pepper’s Ghost, while a live band plays along to the records. Just because you’ve worked someone to death aged twenty-two, doesn’t mean that they can’t still keep earning money for you when they’re eighty-three. And a hologram will never complain about how cold the tour bus is, or want to wash his laundry.

The Frankie Smiles Show, recorded February 16, 2017, with special guest Jimmy Clanton.

Bobby Rydell (born Robert Louis Ridarelli, 26 April 1942, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) is an American professional singer, mainly of rock and roll music. In the early 1960s he was considered a "teen idol". According to Allmusic music journalist Kim Summers, Rydell, whose interest in show business began at the age of four years, "is one of the most sought-after nightclub and concert acts in the US. His performance in Bye Bye Birdie and his recordings "Wild One" and "Volare" made him a famous performer in the 1960s. Rydell used his talents as an impersonator and drummer mostly in pursuing a musical rather than an acting career.    CareerIn 1950, Rydell competed on the amateur talent television series, Paul Whiteman's TV Teen Club; his first-place win gained him a regular role with the series. He worked with the Whiteman series for three years, changing his name to Bobby Rydell. He later joined several local bands in Philadelphia.[As a teenage drummer, he played alongside Frankie Avalon in a musical ensemble known as Rocco and the Saints. He later had a recording contract with Cameo Records company, and his debut success was "Kissin' Time", recorded during the summer of 1959. Rydell was considered a "teen idol" along with Frankie Avalon, Pat Boone (on whose program Rydell performed, The Pat Boone Chevy Showroom), Fabian, Johnny Tillotson, Jimmy Clanton and Bobby Vee. In May 1960, Rydell toured Australia with The Everly Brothers, Billy "Crash" Craddock, Marv Johnson, The Champs and The Crickets, recording an Australian version of "Kissin' Time" for the event.His second success "We Got Love" was his first million-album seller, gaining gold disc status. 1960's "Wild One," backed with "Little Bitty Girl", was his second million-selling single; his successes continued with "Swingin' School" backed with "Ding-a-Ling," and the million-album selling "Volare" later that year. After making his first successful recordings, he continued a solo career, performing at the Copacabana in New York in 1961, where he was the youngest performer to headline at the nightclub. In February 1961 he appeared at the Festival du Rock, at the Palais des Sports de Paris in Paris, France.Rydell's success and prospects led his father Adrio, foreman at the Electro-Nite Carbon Company in Philadelphia, to resign in 1961 after 22 years to become his son's road manager.Rydell released the song "Wildwood Days" in 1963. The song is about the shore town of The Wildwoods in New Jersey. His hometown of Philadelphia, also has a four block radius renamed "Bobby Rydell Boulevard" where the entertainer grew up.In 1963, he played Hugo Peabody in the movie version of Bye Bye Birdie with Ann-Margret and Dick Van Dyke. The original stage production of Bye Bye Birdie had no real speaking role for the character of Hugo, but the movie script was rewritten specifically to expand the part for Rydell. In 2011, Sony Pictures digitally restored this film. Rydell and Ann-Margret were in attendance at the restoration premiere in Beverly Hills by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.During the 1960s, Rydell had numerous hit records on the Billboard Hot 100 record chart. His recording career earned him 34 Top 40 hits, placing him in the Top 5 artists of his era (Billboard). These included his most popular successes, "Wild One" (his highest scoring single, at number 2), "Volare" (number 4), "Swingin' School" (number 5), "Kissin' Time" (number 11), "Sway" (number 14), "I've Got Bonnie" (number 18) and "The Cha-Cha-Cha" (number 10). His last major chart success was "Forget Him", which reached number 4 on the Hot 100 in January 1964. The song - written by Tony Hatch - was his fifth and final gold disc winner.During this time, Rydell also performed on many television programs, including the Red Skelton Show where a recurring role was written for him by Red Skelton as Zeke Kadiddlehopper, Clem Kadiddlehopper's younger cousin. He also appeared on the Danny Thomas Show, Jack Benny, Joey Bishop, and George Burns where his love of comedy was able to bloom. Rydell was also a regular on The Milton Berle Show.On October 6, 1964, he was a guest actor for an episode of the television series, Combat!.This was Rydell's first dramatic acting role.In January 1968, it was announced in the UK music magazine, NME, that Rydell had signed a long term recording contract with Reprise Records company.Rydell continued to perform in nightclubs, supper clubs and Las Vegas venues throughout the 1970s and 1980s, but his career was hampered by Cameo-Parkway catalogue owner ABKCO Records' refusal to reissue Rydell's music, so the entire catalog was unavailable until 2005 (although he re-recorded his old hits in 1995 for K-Tel Records).Rydell continued to perform as a solo act, and has toured as part of 'The Golden Boys' successful stage production since 1985 (with Frankie Avalon and Fabian). However, Rydell cancelled his 2012 Australia tour because his health had deteriorated significantly, and he was in need of urgent major surgery.In July 2012, Rydell underwent a double organ transplant to replace his liver and kidneys at Thomas Jefferson University in his hometown of Philadelphia.MediaIn both the Broadway musical drama, Grease and the film, Grease, the high school was named 'Rydell High' after Bobby Rydell.In 2000 in the book, The Beatles Anthology (pg. 96), Paul McCartney stated: "John (Lennon) and I wrote "She Loves You" together. There was a Bobby Rydell song out at the time and, as often happens, you think of one song when you write another. We'd planned an 'answering song' where a couple of us would sing 'she loves you' and the other ones would answer 'yeah yeah.' We decided that was a crummy idea but at least we then had the idea of a song called "She Loves You." So we sat in the hotel bedroom for a few hours and wrote it— John and I, sitting on twin beds with guitars.”No Rydell song title is named in The Beatles Anthology pg. 96. But in Bob Spitz's The Beatles: The Biography, the author claims McCartney originally modeled "She Loves You" on an earlier Rydell "answering song" called "Swingin' School," not "Forget Him," as is commonly cited. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobby_Rydell

Bienvenidos a Música y Palabras a mí otra aventura con esa música que nunca se olvida la de los años 50, 60 y 70 hoy nuestros protagonistas Bo Diddley , Jimmy Clanton, Frank Sinatra y Sam Cooke entre otros todos los sábados a las 11 de la noche cada 15 días en La Aventura Americana Radio Gracias a todos como siempre por estar ahí con nosotros

Memories from the 50's 60's and 70's w/Jimmy Clanton interview.

An in depth interview with Jimmy Clanton with songs and stories.