Buddy Holly was standing in his drummer's bedroom when he decided to change the world. He didn't know it yet. Honestly, he was just a skinny kid from Lubbock with a Fender Stratocaster and a really bad contract.
In 1956, Buddy and his drummer, Jerry Allison, walked out of a movie theater after watching the John Wayne classic The Searchers. Throughout the film, Wayne’s character, Ethan Edwards, keeps growling this one line: "That'll be the day." Every time someone said something he didn't believe, Wayne hit them with that dry, sarcastic dismissal.
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Back at Jerry’s house, Buddy suggested they write a song. Jerry, probably joking, shot back with Wayne’s catchphrase. "That'll be the day!" Within thirty minutes, they had the bones of a hit. But the road from a teenager's bedroom in Texas to the top of the Billboard charts was a total mess involving legal threats, secret identities, and a producer who basically thought Buddy was a hack.
The Nashville Disaster: Why Buddy Holly That'll Be the Day Almost Failed
Most people don't realize there are actually two versions of this song. The first one is, frankly, kind of a disaster. In July 1956, Buddy was signed to Decca Records and went to Nashville to record with Owen Bradley.
Bradley was a legend, sure, but he didn't "get" rock and roll. Not even a little bit. He tried to turn Buddy into a standard country crooner. He made Buddy change the key of Buddy Holly That'll Be the Day to a higher pitch that sounded strained and awkward. He slowed down the tempo. He even told Buddy to put down his guitar so a "professional" session musician could play.
It was a total mismatch of styles. Decca hated the result. They called the song "junk" and "the worst song I've ever heard." They didn't even release it at first. Instead, they basically sat on Buddy's career until his contract ran out.
Clovis and the Great Contract Escape
By early 1957, Buddy was frustrated and legally stuck. His Decca contract said he couldn't re-record any of the songs he did in Nashville for five years. This is where things get sneaky. Buddy headed to Clovis, New Mexico, to work with a guy named Norman Petty.
Petty’s studio was tiny. It was basically a converted garage with an echo chamber in the attic that Petty built with Buddy’s dad. But Petty let Buddy be Buddy. They stayed up all night, fueled by taquitas from the Foxy Drive-In down the street, and recorded the version we all know today on February 25, 1957.
This version was raw. It was lower, grittier, and had that famous "Texas Shuffle" beat. To get around the Decca contract, they didn't release it under "Buddy Holly." They credited a band: The Crickets.
It worked.
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"Persistence pays off; sometimes the master is the demo and the demo is the master."
Because the credits said "The Crickets," Decca didn't immediately realize their former "failure" was currently taking over the radio. By the time they figured it out, the song was a monster. It hit Number One in the US and the UK. Ironically, Decca’s subsidiary, Brunswick, ended up being the label that released it. Talk about a corporate headache.
Why That One Lick Matters
If you've ever picked up a guitar, you've probably tried to play that opening riff. It’s iconic. It starts with a sharp, downward move on the strings that immediately tells you this isn't a polite country song.
Buddy was one of the first guys to make the Fender Stratocaster famous. Before him, rock stars like Elvis were mostly "frontmen" who strummed a guitar for show. Buddy was the whole package. He wrote the words, he sang the "hiccup" vocals, and he ripped the solos.
The lineup he used for Buddy Holly That'll Be the Day—lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass, and drums—became the blueprint. The Beatles literally named themselves "The Beatles" as a tribute to The Crickets. No Buddy, no Beatles. It’s that simple.
The Breakdown of the Two Versions
- The 1956 Decca Version: High-pitched, slower, sounds like a generic country-pop hybrid. It feels stiff and over-produced.
- The 1957 Brunswick Version: Lower key (A major), faster, features Buddy's own guitar work and that deep, thumping bass from Larry Welborn. This is the "real" rock and roll version.
The Day the Music Died (But the Song Didn't)
We all know the tragedy. February 3, 1959. A plane crash in Iowa took Buddy, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper. Buddy was only 22.
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But Buddy Holly That'll Be the Day didn't die with him. In 1958, a group of kids in Liverpool called The Quarrymen (who would later become The Beatles) recorded their very first demo. Guess what song they chose? Yep.
The song's legacy is everywhere. It’s in the National Recording Registry. It’s ranked #39 on Rolling Stone’s "500 Greatest Songs of All Time." It’s even in American Graffiti. It represents that exact moment when rock and roll stopped being a "fad" and started becoming a culture.
What to Listen for Next Time
- The "Hiccup": Listen to how Buddy says "You'll say you're gonna l-e-e-e-ave." That vocal quirk influenced everyone from Bobby Vee to Adam Ant.
- The Echo: That's not a digital effect. That's the sound of a New Mexico attic providing a natural reverb that modern producers still try to mimic.
- The Solo: It's short, but it's perfect. It doesn't overstay its welcome.
If you want to really understand the evolution of rock, you have to hear both versions. Compare the "professional" Nashville recording to the "amateur" Clovis one. You’ll hear exactly why the suits in the 50s were wrong and why the kids with the glasses were right.
To dig deeper, check out the original 1956 Bradley Studios sessions compared to the 1957 Norman Petty masters. You can find them on most streaming platforms under The Decca Masters and The "Chirping" Crickets. Reading up on the history of the Fender Stratocaster can also give you a better appreciation for how Buddy's technical choices changed the actual sound of the 20th century.