stolen and re-jigged

I know very little to tell you about the Blues. They always impressed me as being very sad, sadder even than the spirituals because their sadness is not softened with tears but hardened with laughter, the absurd, incongruous laughter of a sadness. The memory of the melancholy, the worthless lovers with hands full of gimme, mouths full of much oblige, the eternal unsatisfied longings. There seems to be a monotonous melancholy, an animal sadness running through all Negro jazz that is almost terrible at times ……..

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