Ok, I may not actually have the blues. Yes, I am a tiny bit depressed that I'm not having much in the way of luck finding the right girl for me, and yes my whole work situation is stressing me out, and yes my book publishing situation is irritating me... Ok, so maybe I do have the blues. And I love listening to the blues. How does that make sense?
See the blues don't help people who are depressed. As much as I've paid attention, the blues songs I've listened to so far today include a man begging a woman to treat him fairly, a man complaining that the woman he loved left him for another man, a man promising that he's ready to do anything the woman he loves wants while she shuns him, a man considering suicide after ninety days of hoping his woman would come back, and a long description of what the man's night was like when his woman left him (cold and dark apparently). None of these things make me feel better about anything.
So why the hell do I listen to this music? Because I love it. My favorite kind of blues is an old black guy playing a guitar crooning about his crappy life. Why? Well, I suppose you could call me a racist fucker who enjoys the misery of black people, but really I love how much skill, how much passion is put into these songs. They may not be the best guitar players in terms of technical skill, but they make guitars sing. Combine that with a truly heartfelt story of a man having a bad day/week/month/life, and you get some really amazing music. As a person who loves death metal, punk rock, and other fast music, I guess the blues balances that shit out.
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