Two for Tuesday
Providing background information on music from popular genres like Country, Classic Rock, Southern Rock etc.
Two for Tuesday
From Lubbock To Legend: How Two Hits Built Rock And Roll
On this episode of The Two for Tuesday Podcast, host Michael Pezent traces the meteoric rise and lasting legacy of rock & roll pioneer Buddy Holly. From his Texas roots to international stardom, we uncover the stories behind two of his most iconic tracks—“That’ll Be the Day” and “Peggy Sue.” With rich studio history, lyrical insight, and cultural impact, this episode celebrates the music that still echoes long after “the day the music died.”
Hello friends and welcome to the Two for Tuesday podcast brought to you by Second Round Music, where each week we pull back the curtain on the music that made us. I'm your host, Michael Pazet, and today we're celebrating the life and legacy of one of Rock and Roll's founding pioneers, Buddy Holly. In this episode, we'll explore Buddy's remarkable journey from a small Texas town in the forefront of the 1950s rock and roll era. And we'll deep dive into the stories behind two of the most pivotal songs of his career. And we'll uncover how these songs were written, how they were recorded in innovative ways, and how they stormed the charts and why they still resonate as cornerstones of American music history. And by the end of our journey, you'll understand how Buddy Holly's brief time in the spotlight changed the course of popular music. But before we get started, let's listen to this sponsored message, and I'll see you on the other side. Are you ready to take control of your finances and build a brighter future? Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired of feeling broke all the time? My name is Michael Putin, a certified master coach, and I created second round financial to provide personalized financial coaching based on the proven principles of Dave Ramsey and seven babies. Our services include but are not limited to one-on-one financial coaching or student conference or face-to-face, budgeting strategies, debt reduction plans, emergency plan creation, retirement planning, and investment guidance. Because we believe in empowering our clients with the knowledge and tools they need to achieve financial pace. With our guidance, you'll gain clarity over your financial situation. Develop a realistic and achievable plan and experience hope and confidence in your financial future. I have over 15 years' experience teaching and guiding families in the Ramsey process, along with a degree in finance and work experience in the banking and insurance industries. So let's get started today. Go to secondroundfinancial.com and click Book Now to schedule your free consultation today. Buddy Hawley's story began in the dusty plains of Lubbock, Texas. Now he was born Charles Harden Hawley on September 7, 1936. And he's the youngest child of a close-knit musical family. Growing up in the Great Depression, young Buddy was raised on a rich diet of American music, from country and western songs to gospel hymns that he sang in church. And he learned guitar at an early age, soaking up the influences like Hank Williams, the blues, and RB tunes. He picked these up from distant radio stations late at night. And by his teens, he was performing country duets with his friend Bob Montgomery as the duo Buddy and Bob on local radio stations. But in 1955, a seismic change occurred in Buddy's life. Rockabilly Sensation, Elvis Presley came to town, and Buddy landed a spot as the opening act for Elvis' Lubbock show, and the electrifying performance he witnessed that night lit a fire in the 19-year-old rock and roll guitarist that he couldn't put out. Buddy realized that the exhilarating new sound of rock and roll was his calling, and he swapped out country ballads for rhythm and blues infused rock songs, adopting the hip shaking beat that was sweeping America. That year Buddy opened from Helvis several times, and with each show his resolve to pursue music full time deepened, and he found his direction. Buddy's growing local fame earned him a chance at the big leagues, and in October of 1955 he opened for Bill Haley and his comets, the group behind Brock Around the Clock, and caught the ear of a Nashville talent scout. And by early 1956, Buddy had signed a recording contract with Decca Records in Nashville, and it seemed like break of the lifetime. But Nashville in the 1950s had a very particular way of making records, and Buddy's experience there was less than ideal. Decca's in-house producer, Owen Bradley, that molded country stars like Patsy Klein with smooth orchestrated arrangements. Now you remember that name Owen Bradley. We talked about him a couple of times on this podcast. Now he tried to fit Buddy into the same mold, steering him toward country pop material and restraining his raw rockability energy that Buddy had embraced. And in sessions at Bradley Studio in Nashville, Buddy felt stifled and out of his element. And one of the songs he attempted to record was a new original called That'll Be the Day. But the Nashville session players delivered it in a polite country style, and after countless takes, an exasperated Owen Bradley reportedly declared it's the worst song he'd ever heard. But for Buddy, it was a crushing blow. Decker released a couple of Hawley's early songs to Little Fanfare, and by January of 1957, the label decided not to renew his contract. Buddy Hawley, the teenager with big dreams and a distinct knack for songwriting, was left out of a record deal. Now still Buddy refused to give up. He returned home to Texas determined to record on his own terms. Along with his friends, drummer Jerry Allison and bassist Joe Malden, Buddy drove west to a small studio that was quickly becoming a hotbed for new talent. Norman Petty's recording studio in Clovis, New Mexico. Now Norman was a skilled producer and an engineer who encouraged young artists to experiment. And in February of 1957, Buddy and his band, now calling themselves the Crickets, set up in Petty's humble little studio to give Dattle Bee Today one more try. And this time, free from Nashville's control, well, they nailed it. Buddy's Fender Stratocaster guitar snarled out a driving rhythm. Jerry Allison pummeled out a propulsive beat, and the group captured the song's Youthful Swagger in just a couple of takes. And producer Norman Petty knew that they had something special, and he agreed to become the group's manager. But there was still one problem. Buddy's old Decker contract had a clause forbidding him for re-recording any of the songs that he had cut in Nashville for five years. And to get around this, Petty came up with a clever ruse. And when he shipped the new That'll Be the Day records to Decca's subsidiary label, Brunswick Records, credited the artist as the Crickets rather than Buddy Holly. And the label executives either didn't notice or didn't care. And they released the song under the band's name, making no mention of Buddy. Well the strategy worked. And as the summer of 1957 unfolded, that'll be the day began to pick up regional radio play. In fact, one enterprising DJ in Philadelphia liked the song so much that he played the record dozens of times in a row on his show, igniting listener excitement. The buzz spread like wildfire, and by September of 1957, the song shot to number one on the U.S. charts, and it even topped the UK singles chart for three weeks. And after years of honing his craft, Buddy Hawley had made his breakthrough. With his first hit single Riding High, Buddy Holly and the crickets hit the road. And in the fall of 1957, the group suddenly found themselves in high demand, appearing on national TV. And they played That'll Be the Day and their follow-up hit, Peggy Sue, to screaming audiences on the Ed Sullivan show in December of 1957. And fans were drawn to Buddy's unique image. The lanky kid with a shy smile and those thick black glasses who could unleash a deep, catchy rock and roll song. And by 1958, Buddy was an established star. And he toured far beyond Texas, joining packages that brought rock and roll to Australia and across the UK. One whirlwind tour saw the crickets play fifty shows in 25 British cities in March of 1958. And now what do you know? That hometown boy from Lubbock had become an international sensation. Now amid the success, Buddy was also evolving as an artist, and in 1958 he released his first solo album, and his music began to branch out beyond the Rockabilly template. And he experimented in the studio, double tracking his own voice for richer harmonies, and even incorporating string orchestration on some tracks recorded in New York. During a visit to a New York music publisher's office in June of 1958, Buddy met Maria Alina Santiago, a young receptionist, and it was love at first sight. And he proposed to her on their very first date, presenting a ring hidden inside a rose. And they married later that summer, and Buddy moved to New York City, eager to broaden his career. He envisioned collaborating with RB and gospel greats like Ray Shaw's and Maha Jackson, and even registered for acting classes, dreaming of a future in film. However, these ambitions would soon be cut short. And by the start of 1959, the crickets had parted ways. And Buddy, now in need of cash, partly due to disagreements over royalties being held by his former manager Petty, and they agreed to join an organized winter tour through the Midwest, and he assembled a new backing band including guitarist Tommy Alsip and a young bass guitar player named Whalen Jennings. Yep, that country music legend, Whalen Jennings. And the tour was brutally paced. With long overnight drives through snow between venues, tired of freezing in an unheated tour bus, Buddy decided to charter a small plane after a show in Clear Lake, Iowa to reach the next stop ahead of schedule. In the early hours of February 3rd, 1959, Buddy stepped onto that plane alongside Richie Vallins and J.P. Richardson. The tragedy that followed ended three young lives in an instant. Buddy Hawley was only twenty two years old. Now the world was stunned. Yet despite the abrupt end of his life, Buddy Holly's impact was just beginning to be understood. And in just an eighteen month span to start him, he had recorded a catalog of songs that would become seminal in rock music's development. He showed that a rock and roll artist could write his own material, lead his own band, and experiment in the studio, paving the way for the next generation of musicians. Now the standard rock band format are two guitars, a bass player, and a drummer. Well that's owed to Buddy Holly and the Crickets example. The Beatles, as teenagers in Liverpool, they idolized Buddy. They even named their band in homage of the Crickets. And their very first amateur recording was a cover of That'll Be the Day in 1958. Years later, the Beatles and each member on a solo project would cover Buddy Holly's songs on stage and on records. Bob Dylan attended a Buddy Hawley concert as a high schooler, and the experienced Dylan credits was profoundly influencing him in rock and roll genre. The Rolling Stones chose a Hawley composition, not fade away, for one of their earliest singles, and artists from Eric Clapton to Elvis Costello have cited Buddy Hawley as a key inspiration. And in 1986, when the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame opened its doors to honor the pioneers of the genre, Buddy Hawley was among the first inductees. Not bad for a humble kid from Lubbock, Texas. His legend endures because of the music. So now let's take a closer look at two of Buddy Holly's most important songs, the ones that defined his legacy and helped shape the future of rock and roll. In early 1957, that'll be the day became the song that transformed Buddy Holly from a regional unknown into a national star. But his journey to the top was anything but straightforward. The song's origin story leads us back to a John Wayne Western film, and in the summer of 1956, Buddy and Jerry Allison had gone to the movies in Lubbock to see The Searchers, a John Ford epic starring John Wayne. Throughout the film, Wayne's character repeatedly muttered a catchy phrase saying, That'll be the day. Now the phrase lodged itself in the young musicians' minds. And a few days later, while practicing guitar, Buddy suggested to Jerry that they try writing a song, and Allison jokingly responded with Wayne's catchphrase, that'll be the day. And Buddy's eyes lit up. That's a good idea, he said, and within about thirty minutes the duo had sketched out the whole new song. In its lyrics, Holly turned the cowboys line into a youthful rebuke to heartbreak. The verses tell of a lover who gives all your loving, all your turtle dovin', only to threaten leaving, but Buddy sings it with confidence that such a day will never come, because if it did, that'll be the day when I die. The words were playful and bold, a mix of romantic devotion and teenage bravado delivered with a hiccup and vocal hook in the chorus. At just twenty years old, Buddy Holly had co-written a song with an unforgettable title and a spirited message. Love might make you vulnerable, but saying goodbye for real, well, that'll be the day. With the song written, Buddy was determined to get it on a record. The first attempt took place in July of 1956 at Bradley's Barn Studio in Nashville, during Buddy's ill-fated stint with Decker Records, as we mentioned earlier in the show. And then this early version of That'll Be the Day featured Buddy backed by a group of session players known as the Three Tunes. Producer Owen Bradley had the band play it on a slow country and western style. And Buddy's vocals were subdued compared to the later hit version. Now after many takes, the Nashville team remained unimpressed, and they shelved the song without releasing it. And Holly's contract with Decca soon did ended in a fizzle. But Buddy never lost faith in that'll be the day, and he knew the song needed a different energy, his energy, to really shine. And that chance came on February 25th, 1957, at Norman Petty's studio in Clovis, New Mexico. Now in this recording session, Buddy was joined by his cricket's bandmates, Jerry Allison on the drums, Nikki Sullivan on rhythm guitar, and stand-in bassist Larry Welburn, who filled in until Joe B. Malden officially joined. But they brought in a trio of backing singers that had some duo op style harmonies. Now this was a local group later known as the Picks. Working past midnight in Petty's modest studio, the musicians set up live in one room and they tore into That'll Be the Day with a propulsive new arrangement. Jared Allison drove the groove with a drumming pattern influenced by the hard shuffle of Texas swing, called a driving rhythmic beat, and it's often called a West Texas shuffle. Now Buddy played his Fender Telecaster electric guitar through echo effects, adding catchy feels between the vocal lines. And he even took a brief twangin' guitar solo, showing that the bispectacle singer could also rip it up on the lead guitar, something uncommon among front men at the time. And vocally, Buddy delivered that'll be the day with youthful flair. Now he starts each verse mellow and then soars into a bouncy chorus with a signature, Well, that'll be the day refrain, letting his voice glide upwards in a playful confidence. The whole track bristled with energy and verbor, a world apart from the tame Nashville cut. Now Petty captured it all on tape in just two takes. Recognizing that the feel was right. Unlike many producers of the era, which might heavily overdub or sweeten the sound, Petty kept the return a recording fairly raw. It's essentially the sound of Buddy Holly and the crickets playing live together in the studio, tight and exuberant. Petty did employ one clever production trick though. He slightly overdrove the tape during the recording to give the guitars a natural distortion and added a touch of slap back echo on Buddy's voice, enhancing the record's punchy rockabilly vibe. In the control room, Petty knew that they had made something special, and now he just had to get it released. Now as we heard earlier in Buddy's biography section of this podcast, Petty shopped the track to Brunswick Records under the group's name, The Crickets, to avoid legal issues with Decca. And Brunswick put out that'll be the day as a single in May of 1957. And at first, it didn't set the world on fire. Billboard magazine initially gave it a middling review, calling it a medium rockabilly. But sometimes hit records have humble starts. And through the summer, the song gained momentum city by city, thanks to fervent DJs and teenagers who couldn't get enough of this infectious groove. And by late September of 1957, the unlikely had happened. That'll be the day reached the number one spot on the U.S. pop chart. It also crossed over on the RB chart, peaking at number two there. Now that's a rare feat at the time for a group of white teenagers from Texas. And overseas, British fans were equally enthralled. The single hit number one in the UK where it stayed for three weeks in November of 1957. This was a revolutionary moment. A self-written rock and roll song by an American band conquering the airwaves on both sides of the Atlantic. The crickets were suddenly in the same league as Elvis and Little Richard in the rock and roll firmament. Beyond its chart tribes, that'll be the day he notched numerous accolades that underline its importance. The song eventually sold over a million copies, earning a gold record certification in 1969. And it has since been enshrined in the Grammy Hall of Fame inducted in 1998 for its lasting qualitative significance. And in 2005, the Library of Congress added That'll Be the Day to the National Recording Registry, calling it a record that is culturally, historically, or aesthetically important in American life. Perhaps most famously, Rolling Stone magazine ranked That'll Be the Day among the 500 greatest songs of all time, placing it at number 39 on the list, right up there with the most iconic records ever made. These honors underscore how influential the song became in retrospect. But to really understand the song's legacy, we should look at the artist it touched and the ways that it's continued on. One of the most remarkable testaments of that'll be the day's impact is its role in sparking the imagination of a group of teenagers in Liverpool, England. In July of 1958, a four-piece band calling themselves the Quarry Men, led by young John Lennon and Paul McCartney, visited a studio and recorded two songs onto a single acetate disc. Now one of those songs was That'll Be the Day, done in their best Buddy Holly imitation. Now this scratchy amateur recording, which later surfaced on the Beatles anthology, marked the very first time that Lennon, McCartney, and George Harrison ever preserved their music to vinyl. And it's a direct line from Buddy Holly's hit to The Genesis of the Beatles, a band that would carry rock and roll into a new era. Now the chain of influence doesn't stop there. In 1976, rock songstress Linda Ronstadt recorded her own version of That'll Be the Day on her album, Hasten Down the Wind. Ronstadt's cover, produced by Peter Asher, took the song in a smoother California rock direction and became a hit all over again, peeking at a number 11 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart that year. And by introducing the song to a new generation of fans in the 1970s, Ronstadt demonstrated the timelessness of Buddy's songwriting. The track was has also been covered by artists ranging from Bobby V, who was a teenage idol who stepped in to finish the tour after Buddy's death, to many rockabilly revivalists. Even films have immortalized it. American Graffiti from back in 1973. The director George Lucas's nostalgic tribute to Teenage Life in the 1950s prominently features That'll Be the Day on its soundtrack, complete with legendary DJ Wolfman Jack's voice taking over Buddy's record. Now the song instantly transports viewers to an era of drive-ins, hot rods, and underscores how deeply it's ingrained into the fabric of 1950s Americana. In Buddy Holly's own career, That'll Be the Day was a turning point. It's his first hit that proved that he could top the charts and shape the sound of rock and roll. It took a phrase from a Western movie and turned it into a rock anthem, blending country twang with RB rhythm in a way that set the template for so much more to come. Now when you hear that opening guitar riff and Buddy's carefree, well that'll be the day, you're hearing the birth of the modern rock band format. The roots of the 1960s British invasion and the youthful optimism of 1950s America all rolled into two minutes and 16 seconds of near perfect rock and roll perfection. Not bad for a song that one producer once dismissed as junk. As the Library of Congress wrote, the record that took so long to reach the top ultimately became a rock and roll anthem. One that still makes us tap our feet and dream along with the immortal refrain. Our second spotlight song is one that, from its very first drum roll, is instantly recognizable. Peggy Sue isn't just one of Buddy Holly's best love tunes, it's also a record that showcases the band's ingenuity in the studio and the heartfelt story behind the simple name. Released in late 1957, Peggy Sue became another smash hit for Buddy and demonstrated that he was no one-hit wonder. So let's pull back the curtain on how this classic came to be. Every great song starts from somewhere. And the origin of Peggy Sue actually began under a different name. When Buddy Holly first started writing the song in early 1957, he called it Cindy Lou in honor of his infant niece. She was the daughter of his oldest sister. Now the melody and the basic structure were coming together, but the lyrics were a simple romantic ode, essentially repeating the girl's name and professing love. As fate would have it, Jerry Allison, the cricket's drummer, and Buddy's close friend, had a stake in the song as well. Jerry had been dating a loving girl named Peggy Sue Garin, and the two had recently hit a rough patch and temporarily broken up. Now knowing Buddy was working on a new song with a girl's name in it, Jerry had a bold request. Could they change the name from Cindy Lou to Peggy Sue? And in Jerry's mind, hearing her name on the radio might just win his sweetheart back. Now Buddy, always generous with his music and understanding a bit about young love, agreed to the switch. And just like that, Peggy Sue was immortalized in song. Oh and for the record, Jerry's romantic gamble worked. Peggy Sue Guerin not only got back together with him, she eventually married him, making her Peggy Sue Allison in real life. Now the lyrics of Peggy Sue are straightforward and almost hypnotically repetitive. I love you, Peggy Sue, with a love so rare and true. It's the kind of simple, genuine teenage love song that felt instantly relatable to the 1950s listener. Now the words don't tell a complex story. Instead, they revel in the sound of the name itself, repeated in Buddy's delightful vocal rhythm. Now the name Peggy Sue bounces off the tongue like a playful chant, and the simplicity is part of the song's genius. It's as if Buddy is overwhelmed by this girl, that all he can do is repeat her name joyfully, letting the music convey the emotion. Now if the lyrics of Peggy Sue were simple, the recording and the arrangement were anything but. In fact, Peggy Sue is a record defined by its distinctive sound, particularly in innovative drumming that propels it. Song was recorded on June 29th and July first of 1957 at Norman Petty studio in Clovis during the same flurry of sessions that produced many of the cricket's early hits. Now by this time, the crickets were a tight unit. Though the single was credited to Buddy Holly alone and released on Coral Records. Now that was another DECA subsidiary set up for Buddy's solo work. Now the band played on it. Jerry Allison on the drums, Joe B. Maldon on the bass, and Nikki Sullivan on rhythm guitar, with Buddy singing the lead and playing also lead guitar. Now Norman Petty was at the controls producing again, and during the session, Jerry Allison approached the drum part in a way no one had quite heard before on a rock and roll record, and he employed something called a continuous paradiddle, a rudimentary drum pattern alternating left and right strokes on the snare drum throughout the entire song. This drum pattern gives Peggy Sue its trademark heartbeat, and it's a rolling, feverish tattoo of percussions that never lets up. To add even more character, producer Petty did something clever in real time. As Jerry played, Petty was manually writing the volume fader on the drum microphone up and down, creating the dramatic fade in and fade out effect on the snare hits. And the result is a drum that seems to shimmer. They roar up, then retreat, then roar back, as if the sound itself is breathing. It was an unusual technique for 1957, essentially an early form of studio trickery to make the mono recording feel dynamic and alive. And when you listen to Peggy Sue closely, that pulsing fade in, fade out drum is almost hypnotic. And it grabs the listener's ear immediately. It moves on and on and it provides an irresistible bed for Buddy's voice and guitar. And what about Buddy's performance? Well, from the first seconds of the track, Buddy's guitar grabs the spotlight almost as much as the drums. He opens Peggy Sue with a distinctive strummed chord that quickly slides down in pitch, kind of a diving bomber sound. Now you get this sound by pressing the guitar's tremolo arm, which some people call a whammy bar, as he strikes a chord. And it's an attention getting intro, like a door being flung open. Now throughout the song, Buddy used downstroked rhythmic chords to drive the music forward, and occasionally break it into a twangy little guitar lick between his vocal lines. And his singing on b Peggy Sue is full of youthful energy. He hiccups and trails the name Peggy Sue, repeating in a staccato rhythm that matches the urgency of the drums. And there's a hint of Buddy's rockabelli roots in his voice. That slight hiccup and the way he leans on the vowel sounds. But there's also a smoothness that makes the record pure pop bliss. Buddy's tone is light and exuberant, and you can't help but feel the happiness in it. Midway through the song there's a brief instrumental break where Buddy rips into a guitar solo that mirrors the vocal melody. It's simple, melodic, and effective, showing off his solid skills on a fender strap without ever getting too flashy. Meanwhile, Maldon's upright bass provides a steady percussive thump beneath the melee of the drums, and Sullivan's rhythm guitar fills out the sound. The entire production clocks in at just two minutes and thirty seconds, but it's all so tightly arranged that it feels like a perfectly contained burst of excitement. Petty's live engineering tricks and the band's tight performance combined to make Peggy Sue a record that sounded like nothing else on the airways in 1957. Now Coral Records released Peggy Sue as a single on September 20th, 1957, back with another sweet Holly song every day. It didn't take long for Peggy Sue to follow in the footsteps of that'll be the day. Because by October the song was racing up the charts. It eventually peaked at number three on Billboard's pop chart and even number two on the R and B chart, meaning it had significant crossover appeal to both white and black audiences. And in the UK, Peggy Sue reached a respectable number six on the singles chart, proving that British teens were almost as enamored with Buddy's sound as they were here in the States. Now why it didn't quite reach number one like that'll be the day, Peggy Sue firmly established Buddy Holly as a superstar act. Two major hits in a row was no flute. It was evidence of an artist with real staying power. The song appeared the following year on Buddy's self-titled 1958 album, ensuring it would remain in circulation as part of its core catalog. Critics would later note that Peggy Sue, with its infectious beat and novel production, encapsulated the essence of 1950's rock and roll. It was danceable, heartfelt, and technically innovative all at once. Decades later, Rolling Stone magazine include Peggy Sue on its list of the 500 greatest songs of all time. It's often cited somewhere around the top 200. And the song was introduced into the Grammys Hall of Fame in 1999 as a recording of lasting qualitative importance. Perhaps most tellingly though, in 1999, National Public Radio included Peggy Sue on its NPR 100 list of the 100 most important American musical works of the twentieth century, solidifying its status as a cultural milestone. And for a two and a half minute rock tune, that's a lot of impact. The legacy of Peggy Sue is rich and far reaching. First and foremost, it gave the world another rock's first name iconic characters, up there with the likes of Lucille, Maybelline, or Bebopalula. If you say Peggy Sue to a music fan, they'll likely respond with a smile and maybe start humming the tune. The song has inspired countless cover versions over the years, illustrating its enduring appeal. In the 1960s, artists from the Bergering rock scene paid homage. The Beatles, who were huge Buddy Holly fans, performed Peggy Sue during early club days, and John Lennon would later record a cover of it on his 1975 Rock and Roll Oldies album. The Beats Boys did a harmony-laden cover of it in 1969, showcasing how Buddy's influence extended even to surf rock. And the Hollies, a British band that notably took their name in a tribute to Buddy Holly, also covered Peggy Sue in the 1960s, interjecting their signature harmonies into it also. In the country realm, Buddy's one-time protege, Wayland Jennings, who actually gave up his seat on the plane in 1959 and thus surviving the day the music died plane crash, recorded Peggy Sue years later as a heartfelt nod to his friend. Each cover version, whether by a nineteen sixties British invasion band or a nineteen seventies Country Outlaw, brought out a different facet of the song. But all paid respects to that driving beat and the simple joy that Buddy captured originally. Now Peggy Sue also permeated pop culture in other ways. Buddy himself felt that the character had more story to tell. And in 1958, he wrote a kind of a follow-up song to it. Peggy Sue Got Married, imagining what became of the girl after high school. And in a poignant twist, Bud only recorded a solo acoustic demo of this sequel at home. He didn't live to finish it in the studio. Yet even that rough demo eventually saw the light of day. And it was so evocative that it later inspired a major Hollywood film. In 1986, director Francis Ford Coppola released Peggy Sue Got Married, a nostalgic fantasy movie starring Kathleen Turner. The film's title and theme were directly drawn from Buddy's song. And in the opening credits, you can hear Buddy Holly's faint voice singing Peggy Sue Got Married from that posthumous demo, and as a gentle ghost from the past. It's a haunting tribute to how much cultural weight the name Peggy Sue carried thanks to Buddy's music. Meanwhile, the real Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue Guerin slash Allison, became something of an ambassador to 1950s rock nostalgia herself, making appearances and even writing a memoir titled Whatever Happened to Peggy Sue in Later Years. She treasured the fact that her name had become forever linked with rock and roll history. Hey guys, thank you for listening today, and I hope you're enjoying this podcast. If you are, please subscribe or follow the podcast, click the like button, share it with other music lovers, and please consider giving it a five-star rating so we can reach a bigger audience. Now back to the show. And within Buddy Holly's career, Peggy Sue holds a special place. It proved that the smashing success of That'll Be the Day was not a one-off. If That'll Be the Day announced Buddy to the world, Peggy Sue confirmed his stay in power and his creativity. The two songs contrast beautifully. That'll be the day as a chugging anthem with a big beat. And Peggy Sue is light on its feet with a mesmerizing drum rhythm. Both, however, share Buddy's unmistakable imprint. They're catchy, youthful, and sincere. When fans heard Peggy Sue come crackling through their radios in 1957, many no doubt found themselves drumming on school desks or steering wheels, trying to mimic Jerry Allison's beat, and singing along with Buddy's oh so memorable Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue Chorus. The song's enduring popularity, because it remains a staple on Oldie's radio and in many best of the fifties collections, testifies to Buddy Holly's talent for creating music that feels eternally fresh. Peggy Sue may sing about a particular girl in a particular moment, but somehow it captures a universal emotion, the giddy excitement of being in love, and it marries that feeling to an infectious rock and roll sound that still makes people want to dance even today. So there you have it. A story of Buddy Holly, told through two of his most impactful songs. And in just a year and a half of stardom, Buddy Holly gave us music that changed the trajectory of popular culture. That'll be the day showed a generation of how a skinny kid with glasses from Levick, Texas, could stand toe-to-toe with the giants of rock and roll. And in doing so, it became an anthem that sparked dreams and future legends. Peggy soon proved the depth of Buddy Hawley's creativity, a simple name transformed into a roller coaster of rhythm and feeling, etched forever into rock history. Both songs in their own way carried Buddy Hawley's warmth, his innovation, and his joyful spirit. Listening to them now, one can't help but feel the emotional resonance that so many have felt over the decades. Teenagers in the 50s discovering the thrill of rock and roll to artists like the Beatles finding their calling. To every music lover who taps a foot or sings along Buddy Hawley's songs when they play. Buddy Hawley's life was tragically cut short, but his songs have never stopped flying. And in the lyrics of That'll Be the Day, Buddy's thing of love so strong that losing it would make the lights go out. Yet ironically, when we lost him, his light in fact kept shining brighter and brighter over time. His music reminds us that great songs don't fade away. They echo on, inspiring new arts and new eras. Buddy once said in an interview, I'm gonna show you how the old folks used to pick. In truth, he showed us all a new way to pick, to play, to write, and popular music was never the same. So thanks for joining me today on the Two for Tuesday podcast, brought to you by Second Round Music and your host, Michael Pazan. Where we take a deep dive into the artist, the stories, and the songs that have shaped the soundtrack of our lives. Hey, just remember, we love you and we need you, and we'll see you next week. God bless you.