"I think I'm the most positive guy still going in my generation, and I'm out there to prove that"
About this Quote
There is something gutsy, almost combative, in calling yourself “the most positive guy” and then adding “and I’m out there to prove that.” Luther Allison isn’t offering a Hallmark mood; he’s staking out a public identity in a world that usually rewards cynicism and punishes vulnerability. The line reads like a backstage pep talk turned into a mission statement: positivity not as temperament, but as work.
The key word is “still.” It smuggles in exhaustion, attrition, and survival. Allison came up in the blues, a tradition built to metabolize hardship into sound, and by the late 20th century he’d watched a generation of peers get worn down by the grind of touring, industry exploitation, addiction, and the quiet humiliations of being underpaid and underrecognized. “Still going” hints at that gauntlet. He’s not claiming he never hurt; he’s saying he refused to let hurt become his brand.
Then there’s “prove.” That turns optimism into performance and defiance. He’s talking like someone who knows positivity is treated as naive unless it has receipts: the show, the stamina, the way you treat the band, the way you hit the stage night after night. For a working musician, “out there” is literal - the road, the clubs, the endless setlists - and symbolic: the public arena where your attitude becomes part of your sound.
In that sense, Allison’s quote is less self-congratulation than a dare. He’s arguing that joy can be a form of credibility, and that endurance can be its evidence.
The key word is “still.” It smuggles in exhaustion, attrition, and survival. Allison came up in the blues, a tradition built to metabolize hardship into sound, and by the late 20th century he’d watched a generation of peers get worn down by the grind of touring, industry exploitation, addiction, and the quiet humiliations of being underpaid and underrecognized. “Still going” hints at that gauntlet. He’s not claiming he never hurt; he’s saying he refused to let hurt become his brand.
Then there’s “prove.” That turns optimism into performance and defiance. He’s talking like someone who knows positivity is treated as naive unless it has receipts: the show, the stamina, the way you treat the band, the way you hit the stage night after night. For a working musician, “out there” is literal - the road, the clubs, the endless setlists - and symbolic: the public arena where your attitude becomes part of your sound.
In that sense, Allison’s quote is less self-congratulation than a dare. He’s arguing that joy can be a form of credibility, and that endurance can be its evidence.
Quote Details
| Topic | Optimism |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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