The Fredösphere

I've interrupted work on my current project -- an ambitious choral setting of a really nice text which I'm thrilled to have found and secured rights to, a text that must be kept secret so none of you other weasly composers steal it from me, a text so deserving of great treatment that I feel very pressured to make this composition the ultimate, the most perfect, the most revolutionary choral work in the history of the world, and therefore a work that is progressing and an incredibly slow rate -- to put together a quick brass arrangement to be used this fall as a prelude for a church service:  thus, I found myself lying awake at 5:20 this morning with my mind on fire with creative ideas, noticing how the standard chord progression of the blues is mirrored in the phrases of certain hymns in the Lutheran tradition, not to mention the idea that came to me for grating onions and pressing the juice out of them to improve their performance while one is deeply caramelizing them for Indian recipes -- but I'll stop right there, both because, again, I should keep my new ideas secret, but also because the mind can play tricks on itself in the early hours and one all too often discovers that one's brilliant ideas don't hold up too well under subsequent scrutiny.  In light of that, I guess I have nothing to blog about today, except that, having mentioned the blues, let me just state

WARNING.  THE FOLLOWING OPINION MAY CONTAIN THOUGHTLESS AND/OR ARROGANT STATEMENTS WHICH SOME MAY FIND DEEPLY OFFENSIVE.  READERS ARE URGED NOT TO CONTINUE.

that I happen to be continually amazed that one simple, not very beautiful, chord progression has inspired so much redundant musical effort, and let me further state that I have serious questions about the intellect of anyone who chooses to work within the blues tradition, if it is not modernized or otherwise reconstructed in some way.