Bad Blues Pandemic

After an enjoyable Friday evening with friends at Murphy's, the Irish pub in Old Town Alexandria, I sat upon my trusty steel horse and soaked in the serenity of the early hours of a new day.

The air was crisp and cool. A near-perfect night on historic King Street. Or, it was until the wail of a guitar jumped through the 2^nd story window of the joint next-door to Murphy's.

It was live Blues. I removed the key from the ignition and paused. Perhaps my night is not over. I sat my helmet atop the gas tank and started to dismount. Blues, yeah.

It was Bad Blues.

I sat back down.

I'm a wanna-be Blues spewed forth.

I gave the band another 3 minutes.

I learned this from a songbook Blues
rattled the windows of the shop behind me.

A few folks walking past stopped -- looked up -- and entered the bar. The Bad Blues Pandemic spreads it's evil venom. The bartender must be smiling

Hey, I got a Strat, an old tube amp,
and I know how to play I - IV - V
therefore I must be a Blues player Blues.

When will this viral disease stop spreading?

It's no wonder people either don't like Blues or misunderstand the genre. Players devoid of soul, heart, feeling, sense of tradition, knowledge of history, and a bit-of-the-devil are calling themselves Blues bands and getting gigs.

Why? Cause bars want live music to sell drinks. People want to go out and hear live music -- no matter how poorly it's played.

Awe heck, it's just Blues son. Anyone can play it.

Do that 12-bar thing and sing about
your woman running off with the dog.

Sing about your Mamma not making the cornbread right.

Sing about your whiskey tasting like a rooster
and do that matchbox broom thing.

It don't matter son, it's only blues
and no one likes it much anyhow.

Now what can I get you to drink?

It's all part of the iPod dumbing down of music. Download your 128bit song for a buck and play it back on cheap earbuds, or through your nifty white plastic Bose fill-the-room-with-sound player.

Hear that son, it's music. Don't much matter if it's good. It's
entertainment. Now can I refill that drink for ya?

There is no desire for quality, or authenticity, in this digital age.

I put my earplugs in, strapped on the helmet, hit the ignition switch and rolled-on the throttle. Better to take-in the sound of the road than catch that Bad Blues infection

-30-

Copyright 2006 12Bar
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