I guess a good song is a good song is a good song, ya know.

George Thorogood, the rough-voiced bard of blues and rock, once said with plain yet enduring wisdom: “I guess a good song is a good song is a good song, ya know.” Though his words may sound casual, within them lies a truth both eternal and unshakable—that true art transcends time, style, and circumstance. A good song is not bound by the fashions of an age nor by the labels of critics; it endures because it speaks directly to the human heart.

To repeat “a good song is a good song” is to declare its universality. Such a song does not require explanation, for its worth is self-evident. Whether whispered by a minstrel in the market, played by a band in a tavern, or broadcast across the airwaves to millions, its power is the same. The melody clings to memory, the words strike the heart, the rhythm stirs the body. No argument, no analysis, can erase this simple truth: greatness in music is recognized by all who feel it.

History testifies to this law. The works of Homer, sung to the lyre in ancient Greece, were not written with thought of concert halls or publishers. Yet his epics endured for centuries, carried from age to age because the songs themselves held truth and beauty. In the same way, folk songs like “Greensleeves” or “House of the Rising Sun” have wandered across generations, rearranged and reborn, yet never diminished. Why? Because a good song, once born, refuses to die.

Thorogood himself lived this truth in his own music. Songs like “Bad to the Bone” did not rely on complexity, nor on the changing fashions of the industry. They struck with raw energy, simple power, and unforgettable riffs. The song was what it was—unpretentious, alive, and eternal in its appeal. This is what he meant: strip away the polish, the categories, the critical chatter, and what remains is the unassailable fact that a good song is its own proof.

The deeper wisdom here is that true art cannot be confined by boundaries. Critics may argue, scholars may dissect, and audiences may change, but a good song rises above it all. It may be blues or rock, jazz or classical, folk or gospel—it matters not. If it is true, if it is beautiful, if it awakens something in the human spirit, then it is timeless. And so Thorogood speaks in the language of the ancients: the truth of art is self-evident, and no adornment can either strengthen or weaken it.

The lesson, then, is this: do not be deceived by the noise of fashion or the passing winds of popularity. Seek instead what endures. If you are a creator, pour yourself into honesty, not trend. If you are a listener, let your heart tell you what is good, not the labels of the world. Trust that what is authentic will stand, for authenticity is the root of timelessness.

So, children of tomorrow, take these words to heart: when you encounter a song that stirs your soul, do not ask whether it belongs to the right era, the right genre, or the right style. Simply acknowledge it: it is good, and because it is good, it will endure. In this way, you will learn to value not what is fleeting, but what is eternal.

Thus remember always: a good song is a good song is a good song. It is not the world that grants it power, but the truth within it. And when truth is sung, it needs no defense, for it will echo across the ages, carried on the hearts of all who hear.