Most popular blues quotes
There are all different shades of blues.
Being a blues singer is like being black two times.
The blues slows you down and gives you time to think.
The Blues Had a Baby and the World Called it Rock and Roll.
Blues is to jazz what yeast is to bread—without it, it's flat.
Rock is like a battery that must always go back to blues to get recharged.
Good mornin' blues, how do you do? I'm doin' alright this mornin', how are you?
The person who sings only the blues is like someone in a deep pit yelling for help.
In its origin, modern blues music is the expression of the emotional life of a race.
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan.
As a form, the blues is an autobiographical chronicle of personal catastrophe expressed lyrically.
White folks don't understand the blues. They hear it come out, but they don't know how it got there.
We today have the blues, too, but it is a blues of our day. It's more of the mind and heart and not of the beating of the back.
They've laughed to shield their crying then shuffled though the dreams and stepped 'n fetched a country to write the blues with screams.
The blues is an art of ambiguity, an assertion of the irrepressibly human over all circumstances whether created by others or by one's own human failings.
The spirituals and the blues were not created out of sweet deceit. Spirituals and blues contain sublimated bitterness and humility, pathos and bewilderment.
When we sing the blues, we're singing out our hearts, we're singing out our feelings. Maybe we're hurt and just can't answer back, then we sing or maybe even hum the blues.
The blues came from the man farthest down. The blues came from nothingness, from want, from desire. And when a man sang or played the blues, a small part of the want was satisfied.
The blues was like that problem child that you may have had in the family. You was a little bit ashamed to let anybody see him, but you loved him. You just didn't know how other people would take it.
That's how the blues emerged, by the way— Our spirits needed a way to dance through the heavy mess. The music, a sack that carries the bone of those left alongside The trail of tears when we were forced To leave everything we knew by the way.