Inspired by Mississippi blues artists, a few years ago I decided to learn blues scales. For any guitarist already accustomed to playing major and minor pentatonic scales, this task isn’t too burdensome. In practice sessions I discovered that incorporating blue notes in some sense begs for more, for the artist to satisfy the blue note’s cry with the beauty or satisfaction of the next note. Said differently, as I learned blues scales it didn’t take long to notice that the blue note left in isolation is off-putting and incomplete. In this sense, employing the blue note allows artists to bridge the gap between the major and minor tonalities, crafting a touch of dissonance that creates tension, pulling the listener’s heartstrings in a call and response manner. Typically, the blue note is introduced by bending the pitch of a note slightly downward or inflecting it with a “cry” or “wail” effect. In terms of craft, the blue note provides musicians with a palette of expressive possibilities. By incorporating these flattened or lowered notes, musicians can manipulate the tonal landscape of a song, emphasizing specific emotions or moments within the music. When I think of how blues artists craft their music to face the challenges of life, I can’t help but think through some of the connections to the Christian life. 

In A Secular Age (Belknap Press, 2007), Charles Taylor delves into the concept of “lived experience” as a fundamental aspect of understanding the secularization of society. For Taylor, an attribute of our age is the default setting to prioritize the lived experience, which refers to the subjective, personal encounters and interpretations of individuals within their everyday lives. This concept encompasses the diverse array of beliefs, values and practices that shape human existence and contribute to the formation of individual identities. It is without question that the blues genre provides a musical landscape for subjective experiences to be recognized and evaluated. As a Christian theologian, I’m aware that one indelible feature of our humanity is the creaturely apprehension that our lives are often in disarray, wrecked by sin’s pervasive presence in and among us. And in the throes of sin’s misery and devastation upon humanity (and all that exists), Christians have the courage to explore our circumstances and our hope. As Patrick Miller once observed. “The mind and heart of God are vulnerable to the pleas and the arguments of human creatures.” I think of this reality often, especially when listening to blues artists craft these arguments in the plain language of human emotion and struggle. Whether it’s Blind Willie Johnson’s, “Lord I Just Can’t Keep from Crying Sometimes,” or Serbian-born blues artist Ana Popović’s album, Comfort to the Soul, I am convinced that we really do love the blues, even if we don’t know it yet.