The 3rd of February…
For many, this is just another gloomy, cold and early-sunsetting day. At least for those of us located in the Northern Hemisphere of this precious planet, that is…
As soon as February hits, though, I get this very deeply rooted, almost mystical feeling of nostalgia. Nostalgia about a time I have never lived in and have never even had a remotely linked first-hand experience to the lifestyle it reminds me of. Yet, the pull this month feels strong.
It’s a bittersweet, vague, barely sensed emotion of how I picture a particular era in history. A concept about simpler times marked by the uncontrollably rhytmic and energy-soaked tunes of rock and roll.
This day will forever stay in history as ‘the day the music died’ as poetically commemorated by Don McLean in his epic (perhaps a sutiable description, given its more than eight-minute-long nature) song “American Pie”.
This is the day when, in 1959, rock and roll stars Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and “The Big Bopper” Jiles Perry Richardson Jr. died in a misfortunate plane crash, along with pilot Roger Peterson, near lake waters in the US state of Iowa. The flight was supposed to transport the musicians from one tour date to another, but unfavourable winter conditions at night led to Peterson losing control of the plane, crashing into a cornfield and killing all passengers on board.
Letting aside the musicianship the world had lost forever following the tragic event, the sorrow is even more immense once realising that all three singers were aged below 30 at the time of the accident.
But for such a short lifespan, they undoubtedly left a footprint on the eternal map of music – at least, the one that is composed from the heart, sang with sincerity and experienced freely… Ah, those must have been the times. Or so I would imagine.
And even though Don McLean’s masterpiece is the most beautiful love letter in appreciation of the three legendary talents – a poem expressed in, oh, such a melodic way – I am beyond grateful that music, in its pure essence and core, did not die.
What seems to have faded, though, is something I believe lies in significantly deeper levels in cultural terms – simplicity. The one that (I would only imagine and dream of) could be authentically felt in a crowded hall where men and women would show up to dance, to put on a show, to show what connection, oftentimes romantic, is really about.
Wouldn’t you agree that the 50’s (at least in the most developed parts of the world) must have given people such an easier time to live, meet and simply enjoy life? No messaging notifications, no late work emails, no battery-dying concerns, no selfie-taking, no overthinking, no superficial and vanity-driven presence…
It must have been about living in the moment, enjoying things as they come, knowing how to be present in the experience of dance, flirting and sharing unforgettable moments together, as a community. It must have been about rocking the dancefloor and rolling with the times – unforcefully, gracefully and in a way that promises fun with every step taken to every beat heard.
If you are still not convinced until you see it with your own eyes – watch this compelling compilation and let the rhythm move you (literally and figuratively) ♡
The Music Guide 