Skip to main content

Ritchie Valens Tribute

Podcast -  Happy Birthday, Richie!

As hard as it is to believe, Rock-n-Roll legend Ritchie Valens would have turned 80 years old this past Thursday.

He was born Richard Steven Valenzuela on May 13, 1941, in Pacoima, CA. Among his peers, Sunny & the Sunglows, The Sir Douglas Quintet, and Thee Midniters, Ritchie Valens created themes heavily based on 1950s R&B music.

Ritchie is considered a forefather of the Chicano rock movement and modern Latino rock music. And one of the pioneers of contemporary rock-n-roll music.

As a young man, Ritchie Valens was a gifted guitarist, singer, and songwriter. Among his most recognized hits, Come on Lets Go, Donna, We Belong Together, and La Bamba, to name a few. He made his national debut on American Band Stand hosted by Dick Clark on October 6, 1958, in Philadelphia.

Sadly, Ritchie Valens' career was too short. His recording career lasted eight months, professionally active from 1957 through 1959.

Along with Buddy Holly and J. P. Richardson, "The Big Bopper," Ritchie was killed in a tragic plane crash on February 3, 1959, in Clear Lake, Iowa. He was just 17.

However, his music lives on. As I began to learn guitar, his melodies inspired me to learn to play. Readers of this blog may remember the post titled, What the Cat Heard from Sept. of 2016.

Despite his brief career, Ritchie Valens' lasting impact on rock-n-roll music affected many distinguished artists including, Jimi Hendrix, Carlos Santana, Los Lobos, Ricky Martin, and Brian Wilson have credited Ritchie as influencing their careers.

Ritchie Valens was elected to the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999 and enshrined in the Rock' n Roll Hall of Fame in 2001.

Happy birthday, Ritchie, your music lives on!

"Won't you be my virtual neighbor?" If you enjoy our weekly visits, please share them with a friend.

This is Patrick Ball; thanks so much for listening. I'll see you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

When Fear Becomes the Default

In this special episode, When Fear Becomes the Default. Early Sunday morning, I was cycling past a small veterans’ pocket park in San Marcos. The air was still, the streets nearly empty. On one corner stood a young woman, alone, holding a hand-painted sign that read: “Be ANGRY. ICE agents are murdering people.” I pedaled past, but the words stayed with me. I knew the context—the footage and headlines from Minneapolis the day before, already ricocheting through the country and hardening opinions. Even in the quiet of the ride, the noise followed. Two miles later, I stopped at a red light. A black car with dark windows pulled up inches from my bike. My heart jumped. My first instinct wasn’t neighbor —it was threat . I found myself bracing, scanning, and wondering if the person inside was angry, armed, or looking for trouble. Then the door opened. A well-dressed young woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sign that read “Open House.” She turned, smiled brightly, and sa...

The Language of Home: Building a Sanctuary

This episode is  for anyone trying to find their footing in a new place—whether it’s a new city, a new job, or a new country. The light in Florence, Italy, has a way of making everything feel like a Renaissance painting—the golden hue on the stone, the steady rhythm of the Arno River, and the feeling that you are walking through a history much larger than yourself. I was there to give a presentation to a class of Gemology students. I was prepared to discuss color grading and refractive indices, but not to be outed as a language tutor . Feeling very much like a guest in a storied land, a hand shot up enthusiastically. "You’re the guy on the podcasts," the young woman said, her eyes bright with recognition. "You’re the one teaching us English." I laughed nervously. If you know my flat Midwestern accent, you know the irony here. I am hardly an Oxford professor. But later, as I wandered the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of the Duomo, the humor faded into a powe...

Sweden Called . . . They Said No.

Have you ever wondered about  the Nobel Prize? Let's look at Where Genius Meets “Wait—Where’s My Medal?” Every October, the Nobel Prizes are announced, and humanity pauses to celebrate the "greatest benefit to mankind." And every year, like clockwork, a specific type of person appears online to complain—at length—that they were robbed. (Well, maybe this year more than most.) The Origin: A Legacy of Guilt The prize exists because Alfred Nobel, a Swedish inventor, had a crisis of conscience. Nobel held 355 patents, but he was most famous for inventing dynamite. When a French newspaper mistakenly published his obituary, calling him the " Merchant of Death, " he decided to buy a better legacy. In his 1895 will, he left the bulk of his massive fortune to establish five prizes (Physics, Chemistry, Medicine, Literature, and Peace). Because he was Swedish, he entrusted the selection to Swedish institutions, such as the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. The only outlier...

On the Fly–Taking Flight

In this special 500th episode,  On the Fly  is moving to a new home. Here’s why—and what’s staying the same. For a very long time (since April 2012),  On the Fly  has lived on  Blogger . Blogger has been a reliable host—dependable, quiet, and never complaining when I arrived late with another half-baked idea, a guitar riff, or a story that needed a little air. It faithfully archived my thoughts, my music, and more than a decade of curiosity. But the internet has changed. It’s louder now. Flashier. More insistent. Every thought is nudged to perform. Every sentence wants to be optimized, monetized, or interrupted by something that really wants your attention right this second. I’ve been craving the opposite. So today, On the Fly is moving to Substack . If you’ve been with me for a while, you know my quiet obsession: the A rt of Seeing . I’m interested in the moments we rush past—the Aversion Trap, the discipline hidden inside a guitarist’s daily practice, t...