Prologue


Not long after the dinosaurs ruled the Earth, when language was unspoken,
Shakespeare wasnąt conceived and an electric guitar an unimagined miracle,
there lived small, furry creatures in dark, damp caves, hungry and cold, in
a constant fight for survival with larger, more ferocious animals. In the
long, dark nights they would gather around small fires, trembling with cold
and fear and frustration, mumbling, moaning and beating on the ground with
sticks and stones. Little did they dream that their chants, so sad, yet so
full of hope for a better tomorrow, one distant day would be modified,
modernized, electrified and translated through guitars, harmonicas, voices,
to become the greatest of musical inventions ­ the Blues. Did they sense,
deep inside, that throughout human history, most events will repeat ­ the
sadness and triumph, the miraculous pains of love and loss ­ and that
most of us today, in an age of mechanical miracles and stellar exploration,
would find ourselves in the same situations and still be moaning, searching
for the way out of that same dark cave ? and I wonder did anything really changed since than?