Albert King (1923 – 1992) / Bobby “Blue” Bland (1930 – Still Representin)
There is a lot of stuff going on in the world right now. War, murder, thievery, rape, genocide, homelessness, etc…the list of jacked stuff goes on forever. I know I shouldn’t have the blues for what I’m about to tell you, but I really can’t help it. I’ve been working on some new songs as a reinvention of sorts and it has been going really, really, really well. The recordings were awesome. I’m trucking along with a good attitude, kinda happy for a change, and then Boom! Explosion! Death! Destruction! My Pro Tools Drive crashed. I haven’t backed up anything in a few weeks. I’m fucked.
I’ve run about 15 applications to find the data and have retrieved the wav files (along with all kinds of other shit that got deleted a long time ago), but this was a drive dedicated to Pro Tools only and .pft session files are nowhere to be found. Btw, just like they say, data is never really deleted until it is written over by new data a few times…or unless you bust out a 7 to 35 pass file shredding application (which was actually the culprit in my case). Something about the app I was using to really delete old files jacked up the NFTS file tables and MBR or something weak like that. Dunno, this shit feels like someone is sticking a knife in my eye and scraping the inside of my skull while forcing me to listen to a non mixed mixtape of only Black Eye Peas and Miley Cyrus at 1,000,000,000,000 decibels. I hate my life right about now.
In the words of a living legend Mr. Bobby Bland:
Ask me who was the first man to make a light burn so bright
I don’t know, oh lord, I don’t know
Ask me who thought of using a candle for a light
I don’t know, oh lord, I know
But ask me how does a man feel when he’s got the blues
And I’d say, misused, abused, downhearted and blue
And Oh, the reason I know this
Cause the Blues is all I was left with
I can tell you only one thing right now…what it’s like to have the hard drive blues. Ain’t no love in the heart of this Los Angeles city.
Take us out Mr. Albert King:
The beautiful little birds chirpin’ up in the tree, yeah
Buy you know I just can’t dig the sweet melody
I’m so blue and all alone
I’m just a lonely man with everything gone
I’m a fella with a different groove
I’m hung up, I can’t hear nothing but the blues