Sunday, May 07, 2006

Bad Blues

Once, many moons ago, I had a funny post in my head about bad blues (or maybe it was incisive, or biting, or lyrical, or revelatory - I just don't remember), but now it's gone forever (or at least until I get a good smack on the head), dead and rusting in a dingy corner of my cortex right next to the design for a perpetual motion machine that was going to save the world and make me fabulously wealthy.

And besides, Ashley preemptively out-funnied me with his "white guys with dreadlocks clapping on 1 and 3" comment (damn you, infernal readers, with your free wills and cheeky senses of humor - this is my show, my show!).

So, um, I got nothin'. Uh, bad blues - discuss amongst yourselves. I'll be back in five to see how things are coming along.

Ask, and ye shall receive. Kind of. Not really.


  1. Alright, I'll kick it off. It is one of the cruel vagaries of language and musical history that "blues" is applied to two very different things, one of which I love, and one of which I hate.

    The thing I love - that old ch-chomp-chomp, gutbucket stuff full of tension, wry humor and barely restrained anguish.

    The thing I hate - that latter day stuff with over-saturated guitar heroics, busy drums, and emotional clowning.

  2. Anonymous9:11 PM

    When it comes to blues, technical prowess must take a back seat to feel.

    Yngwie Malmsteen, or John Lee Hooker. You decide.

    And I think Yngwie used to have dreadlocks...