The Best are Forgotten

Their Blues

Find a musician on the street that can play like you have never heard and write a song named after them with their story in it. Let them live forever.

When you listen to compositions like such, you can’t help but feel. Feel like something terribly unjust has been happening in the world’s history. It is interesting how we tend to pity those who have been hurt many decades after they’ve been hurt, but at the same time we do not give acknowledgment to those who are in indescribable pain right this moment.

As I was sitting in a line somewhere, I overheard two ladies talking how they sit and wait for their turn for hours while those seemingly without conscious just walk straight in and give no second glance to the others. One of the ladies said “Maybe it’s time for me to stop caring about conscious”. I wonder and ache from the contemplation on the subject when it plagues my mind. Every day we decide between doing right and doing easy. An easier thing would be to ignore anything except my own urges and wishes. If I want that girl, it may not matter if she is dating my friend, I’ll break them up and then have her for myself. If I want to play the guitar, I will adjust to the crowd’s desire to not think about anything, to not care. Therefore I will “compose” about body parts and drunk random sex. A rant that has been existing ever since the first change took place in history.

However there are others, who are ultimately good and do decent things despite of the personal gain and ambitions that are shoved down their throats by popular media. These people work hard and tirelessly, spend time with their families, or devote themselves to making a step closer to a scientific achievement which they will not witness in their lifetime. They sincerely attempt to dismiss temptations and find strength to make another step. There are people who make music, that is not commercial and spend lives playing in joints that have not seen a change since 1936. In every genre there are those who make quality compositions. From Reggae to Trance their songs tell something. They tell of their feelings, they tell of their feelings or someone they know they share these feelings with. The issue with that is that the things we want to say are usually not the easiest things to hear for many reasons. At times they show us how low we fell, at times they point at our own hypocrisy. The closest thing I thought of a friend would always mock everyone on their specific actions yet then turn around, do exactly the same thing and would not recognize it when asked.

It is difficult to feel and that’s why people are drawn to things that aren’t brain-consuming. Blues Guitar Expert has been alive for a few days and already brings more attention than Keen Kord does. That is because we want to see the picture, hear the sound, and be told what it is about. Not draw our own, imagine and compose ourselves and think what it may have been about. Life seems to be hard and unjust, and I would not throw a stone at anyone trying to avoid additional shed of a tear while listening to the Blues or any of the songs like the ones here.

I only wished for one thing, I only wished for Mr. Bojangles, the man who could really play his guitar, those working at the Old man River and those working their lives for something to be heard of. In fact, as I write this, I am coming up with an idea that will make my life well spent:

The Memory of Their Blues

The idea is about writing songs, powerful ones with heart in them even if they will never cross over. We all walk by a musician on the street every once in a while. A musician that is like no other but is worth a hundred others. Come up to them, ask their name, ask them to play for you and listen to them. If you feel like they have touched your heart, write a song about them and name it after them. Write a song about a music maker who could really touch your heart but were never given a chance to be heard. Save a memory of them for they have given up the ambition of being remembered. If you find the need for more, please go back to them and ask if they had a dog and if they cried when it died.

The concept, a little rugged and maybe a little naive is to create a chain of memories attached to the names of Billy from Kansas who had given 12 years to cello and can now play like a god but no one wants him in the small town. Or maybe 60 year old Uncle Tom from Clayton who plays Jazz on a trombone like there is no other way of playing it. Make Bojangles out of all of them. Make their lives and their pain and their feelings eternal and have the next Frank Sinatra or Sammy Davis Jr. sing about a girl from Lebanon who sang like an angel on a street corner, while shedding a tear themselves.

This is your journey, go out and listen. Listen for the feelings that others have and want to share but are not being heard. Write a song about them and make their story live forever. This is how you will live forever.

a young boy dancing to street musicians

Make Some Noise