The reflection of the world is blues, that's where that part of

Hear the voice of Jimi Hendrix, the prophet of sound and fire, who declared: “The reflection of the world is blues, that's where that part of the music is at. Then you got this other kind of music that's tryin’ to come around.” These words, though spoken in the language of a musician, bear the weight of prophecy. For Hendrix was not merely speaking of notes and chords, but of the very soul of humanity mirrored in music.

The blues is more than a style—it is the lament of a people, the cry of sorrow turned into strength, the memory of chains transformed into song. Born from the fields of the oppressed, from the toil of African Americans who lifted their voices against hardship, it is indeed the reflection of the world—its pain, its longing, its restless search for dignity. Hendrix understood that to play the blues was not simply to play music, but to speak the raw truth of existence.

And yet, he also points to “this other kind of music that’s tryin’ to come around.” In these words, he acknowledged the restless spirit of creation—the force that refuses to remain still, that seeks to break beyond tradition and forge something new. For while blues was the mirror of the world as it was, the new music was the dream of what could be. Rock, psychedelic sound, new rhythms—these were the voices of a generation reaching beyond sorrow, trying to carve out freedom in sound, trying to heal through transformation.

Consider the tale of Beethoven, who took the strict forms of classical music and shattered them, bringing forth the storm and fire of the Romantic era. He honored tradition, but also felt “this other kind of music” pressing to be born. His Ninth Symphony, with its cry of universal brotherhood, was not just music—it was vision. In the same way, Hendrix knew that the blues was the foundation, but also that new sounds were knocking at the door of the human spirit, demanding to be heard.

The lesson is this: music is the eternal dialogue between truth and possibility. The blues reminds us of where we are, grounding us in honesty, sorrow, and survival. The new music reminds us of where we can go, urging us to imagine, to create, to reach. Both are necessary, for one without the other is incomplete. A people without roots is lost; a people without vision is stagnant. Hendrix’s wisdom is that we must listen to both: the reflection and the becoming.

Practically, this means that in our own lives we must honor our foundations—the struggles that shaped us, the traditions that birthed us, the truth of where we stand. But we must also embrace innovation, allowing new ideas, new dreams, and new possibilities to emerge, even if they seem strange or unfamiliar. Just as Hendrix wove blues into his electric storms of sound, so must we weave past and future into the fabric of our lives.

Thus, Jimi Hendrix’s words echo like a song of the ages: “The reflection of the world is blues.” In those deep notes lies the sorrow and strength of humanity. And yet, always, there is “this other kind of music” striving to be born—the music of change, of vision, of tomorrow. May we, like Hendrix, learn to hear both: the cry of the present and the whisper of the future. And in uniting them, may we create not only music, but life itself, rich, honest, and ever new.