LAZY SUNDAY #24: BUDDY KNOX

There's a "Battle of the Bands" in my neighborhood this weekend. Turns out my hometown is a hotbed of budding rockers, most notably the Tokyo Police Club, now touring the US and appearing in the UK later this month.

Back in the day, in Regina, our Battles of the Bands were held in a place called the Trianon Ballroom. It was a fading dance hall that had seen its best days just after WWII. Used to the likes of Glenn Miller and Guy Lombardo, it was primarily hosting wedding receptions by the time I moved into town.

But now and then, a touring rock star would roll through and, the Ballroom being the only real venue available, the Swing era music stands labelled "TB" were shunted into the wings to make room for amps, drum kits and electric pianos.

Guys like Bobby Vee, who lived just over the border in South Dakota and Thunder Bay's Bobby Curtola were regulars, drawing crowds of pompadored and pony-tailed teens to dance under the ballroom's chipped but still operational mirror ball.

The first rock n'roll show I ever saw was at the Trianon and featured Buddy Knox. Knox had one big hit in 1957, "Party Doll" and by the time I attended his concert 7-8 years later had churned out several more forgettable hits like "Lovey Dovey" and "Hula Love".

But in our world, he was a star. He'd grown up with Buddy Holly, toured with Elvis, held the record for most appearances on "American bandstand" and had been on The Ed Sullivan Show a couple of times.

He had a rockabilly sound, like most of the bands that came out of Texas back then. Still partly country but with enough extra they could get their records played at both ends of the radio dial.

For most of his career, Knox spent 11 months of the year on the road, playing one nighters in places like the Trianon or any bar or honky-tonk that was within driving distance and had an open booking. The trappings of modern rock stardom were still decades away. There were no private jets, stadium shows or armies of record executives marketing the crap out of their artists.

Buddy and his band traveled and slept in a beat-up Winnebago, eating late night hamburgers in truckstops and selling 45's and 8x10 glossies at the door.

I'd like to say that first Rock 'n Roll show and Buddy's appearance were memorable, but they weren't. I remember him wearing a gold lame shirt and no shoes, because it was a "sock hop" night and he'd been up dancing with some female fans while the opening act was playing.

He opened and closed with "Party Doll", did his other hits and a few covers of current offerings on the rock and country charts. I was maybe 13 and what impressed me most was how much he sweated for a guy who didn't seem to be moving around a lot.

I passed by the local auditorium this morning as a couple of beat up vans disgorged amps, drum kits and electric pianos. The kids doing the unloading looked like they were probably the musicians who'll be playing later. And they didn't look much different from the guys in Buddy's band.

It got me thinking that no matter how much the music changes, the spirit and the people making it are pretty much the same. Kids that don't quite fit in. A desire to say something about their hopes and dreams and what's fun to them. Maybe a chance to find some people who are like-minded or just want to have a good time too.

Alan Freed was right. "Rock 'n Roll will never die". And maybe it's going back to what made it so special when it first appeared, coming from the streets instead of being concocted in a corporate office and massaged by a marketing firm. I think both Buddy and the Tokyo Police Club would like that.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Buddy Knox



The Tokyo Police Club