Marc v Buddy

A friend posted a link to this on Facebook earlier today and it reminded me again of something that always makes me smile - the Great Marc v Buddy debate. It's probably the first time that I realised boys weren't necessarily as stupid as they acted.

When I was 7 the only person I came into contact with who knew anything about music was my Mum and the boys in my class at school were only there for fighting with each other or making Dean kiss Beverley in the class play. Generally you just ignored them as they ended up punching each other and crying like girls. Older boys were more interesting although mostly just as stupid.

In Miss Bamkin's class I used to sit on a table with, amongst others, Neil Morton and Neville Yates. I don't remember what we were supposed to be doing, probably Creative Writing or Nature Studies, when suddenly the rest of the table were alerted to a slight air of discord. Seemingly from nowhere Neil and Neville, who were never the best of friends, had started to get increasingly loud. The usual hissing of banal insults ("you smell", "you stink") had taken on a much more academic tilt. Apart from the personal hygeine it would normally be over cars and motorbikes with those two. Never football. This time they were at it hammer and tongs over music. In particular they were debating who was the best and most influential. Who would stand the test of time and be regarded as a legend and who would be discarded as a forgettable pile of something flushed down a toilet. Each was as vehemant as the other that he was backing the right horse.

I sat in amazement at the eloquence coming out of their eight year old mouths as they took each other on. Neville in the Buddy Holly corner and Neil sparring for Marc Bolan. They certainly knew their stuff. Back catalogues and chart positions were reeled off, drumming techniques and guitar licks compared. As for the effect of recording techniques ...

The only thing they seemed to agree on was that Elvis and Cliff were not fit to polish the boots of their heroes.

It was fascinating to watch and clearly more interesting and ultimately more educational than what we were supposed to be doing. Then they went and spoilt it all with "because my Dad says so" and "my brother knows better than your Dad" accompanied by Neville lunging across the desk at Neil. What kind of an end to a decent argument is that?

At this point the Teacher stepped in and, as usual blamed Neil for being a disruptive influence. Poor Neil. Always in the doghouse. I felt so hurt on his behalf.

I suppose really that although this song is about only one of them, aspects of it could apply to either or any gifted musician that makes their mark and passes too young.



Me? I went home and aksed my Mum who Buddy Holly and the Crickets were and why were they better than Marc Bolan and T-Rex.