The jangling intro and solos on “That’ll Be The Day” still sound gorgeous – assured and effortlessly pretty – but the rest of it hasn’t aged well. Liking Buddy Holly surely depends on liking that nervy gulping thing he does with his voice, and I don’t. It’s a good gimmick, it means you don’t forget the song in a hurry, but it’s a bastard to actually listen to. Aside from that the record is okay, a jaunty song sitting on a chugalug rhythm, less charismatic than most of the hits that surrounded it. Close listening shows up a load of fine band bits – the heavy dragging drums leading into the last chorus; lots of little guitar licks – but none of it really adds up to more than an honest, adequate pop record.