For true believers in rock's more mystical origins, the crossroads of highways 49 and 61 in Clarksdale, Miss., in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, is sanctified ground.
America is home to a spectrum of awe-inspiring civic memorials commemorating presidential achievements, heroic war veterans and local heroes. But where can you go if you want to lay down a chewed-up pick or freshly-drained bottle of red wine for your all-time favorite rock 'n' roll star? Get ready to air-guitar in memoriam: Here are twelve of America's most crucial rock 'n' roll landmarks.
Buddy Holly Memorial | Clear Lake, Iowa
On February 3, 1959, a Beechcraft B35 Bonanza carrying Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and J.P. "the Big Bopper" Richardson slammed into a frozen soybean field about 8 miles north of the Clear Lake, Iowa airport where it first took off. All three musicians and the 21-year old pilot, Roger Peterson, died on impact; according to reports, the tiny, four-seat plane hit the earth at around 170 miles per hour. Even folks unfamiliar with the victims' music are well-versed in the details of this particular tragedy, which has been memorialized countless times in American pop culture, including Don McLean's hit "The Day the Music Died," the 1987 film "La Bamba," and, more recently, in Chuck Klosterman's book "Killing Yourself to Live," where Klosterman describes the memorial currently in place in Clear Lake as "a tiny metal cross in the middle of deep nothingness, decorated with Bud Light beer cans and empty cigarette lighters and somebody's Blockbuster card." Grim stuff, all around.
CBGB, the dearly departed Bowery shrine to punk, seen here in the era of its ascendancy.
CBGB | New York City
If America's nascent punk-rock scene had a defacto homebase, it was the dark, musty little club at 315 Bowery: Hilly Kristal's CBGB and OMFUG (Kristal, who had previously operated a bar in the space, never intended to open a punk haven -- the name stands for Country, Bluegrass, Blues and Other Music For Uplifting Gormandizers). In the mid-1970s, the venue hosted gigs by then-unknowns the Ramones, Patti Smith, Blondie, Television, Talking Heads and plenty more (including the first U.S. show ever performed by the Police).
In the '80s and '90s, it became a must-play venue for hardcore and thrash bands. But in October 2006, the club -- which reportedly owed nearly $100,000 in unpaid rent -- was shuttered for good, and eventually replaced by a contentious John Varvatos boutique.
Still, it's worth tugging on your shredded skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors, wandering over to the chic storefront, and singing a little "Hey ho, let's go!" in the club's honor -- even if the venue's infamous urinals no longer lend their perfume to the lower Manhattan air.
