The music plays . . . and your sense of reality is heightened to a dream.

And here's to the blues, the real blues— where there's a hint of hope in every cry of desperation.

The music echoes in the emptiness. It reminds us where we came from and where we’re bound.

We start our lives with blues . . . with music. It's our first language. It's the rhythm of the womb. It's your mama's heartbeat inside your head.

You got infinite channels and limitless rhymes, but the riddles of livin' stay undefined?

Now listen for your song. Everybody’s got a song. When I used to chase the Trane— John Coltrane that is— he used to tell me, ‘If I know a man’s sound, I know the man.’ Do you hear the melody playing in your mind? Does it move you, nudge you off your seat?

There’s something lyrical about an eternal truth. It’s a graceful riff. A free-flowing melody. Light and airy, it floats all around you. And when it lands on your ears, when you hear it for the first time, you instantly recognize it― because it’s like bumping into an ageless, best friend.

I've never met God, but I've heard the blues.