I wander lonely as a cloud, a poet lost in billowing white: blue sky dreamer.
The blues, the colour of the sky as it changes colours, the dreariness of a Vancouver rainy winter, finally, minute by minute filling with more light each day.
Here is a series divided into three parts (for ease of consumption!):
The blues are a feeling, a state of mind, and a well that never runs dry.
I started learning to improvise by trying to capture that raw feeling and rhythm the guitar bands of the 60s were making. Only later did I find out that they were trying to do the same thing, as they discovered the source in the southern States. So this stream springs from there. I keep trying to get it right. Keep it fresh. Keep it real. You can’t fake the blues. If it isn’t the real thing there is no hiding. No mountain tall enough. No river wide enough. And the funny thing is that the blues bring joy. Catharsis. Light.