Jimi Hendrix on track

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First Published in the United Kingdom 2022

First Published in the United States 2022

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Copyright Emma Stott 2022

ISBN 978-1-78952-175-7

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I ain’t finished yet, brother… I got more to say.

Jimi Hendrix

With love and thanks to my other favourite guitarist, Dad.

Contents

Introduction

The Are You Experienced Singles

Are You Experienced (1967)

Axis: Bold As Love (1967)

Electric Ladyland (1968)

Band of Gypsys (1970)

The Jimi Hendrix Experience (Box set) (2000)

First Rays of the New Rising Sun (1997)

South Saturn Delta (1997)

Valleys of Neptune (2010)

People, Hell and Angels (2013)

Both Sides Of The Sky (2018)

Live Roundup

Compilations

Guest Appearances

Afterword

Introduction

Curiously, for an act who omitted the question mark from the title of their ground-shaking debut Are You Experienced, The Jimi Hendrix Experience were a band of powerful punctuation – guitar work that declared, interrogated and exclaimed; drumming that bracketed and divided like commas, and bass lines which pounded out intriguing ellipses. And that’s what really testifies on each listen. The threadbare cliché that Jimi Hendrix made his guitar speak, really misses the point: Hendrix himself speaks, coaxes, boasts and teases in an unmistakeable baritone, but the guitar gives it meaning. Think of the question-exclamation riff that announces ‘Purple Haze’; the asterisk-ampersand frustration and ecstasy of ‘Foxy Lady’s’ explosive solo; the big interrobang of ‘Can You See Me?’

In 1966 – the year Hendrix began recording in London – the French author Hervé Bazin created six new types of punctuation, consisting of marks for love, acclamation, doubt, irony, authority and conviction. Hendrix was doing the same for the guitar, developing bends, trills and vibrato that would give new intention to song. Progressing beyond the biff-bang-pow of garage and the po-faced purity of blues echoists, Hendrix’s music has flares of pop art’s punctuation, knowingness and an appreciation for the ready-made; even a measured banality and, similarly, he drew on American and British influences, eschewing elitism. In the extraterrestrial ‘3rd Stone From The Sun’, the very terrestrial cobbled stones of the Coronation Street theme are resounded; numerous songs include Hendrix clearing his throat; Rover the dog is name-checked; Superman becomes a motif of ironic masculinity. For someone feted to be extraordinary, the ordinary often peeps through. Yet, at the same time, the notes that splash, splurge and splatter from his Fender Stratocaster evoke abstract expressionist canvases, with ‘strange, beautiful’ patterns in the crafted chaos.

If his guitar did speak, it wasn’t in any existing language, but was formed of borrowings, coinages and intonations of remarkable force. The Creation’s guitarist Eddie Phillips (The Creation gave ‘Hey Joe’ a try in 1966 too) declared their own music to be ‘red with purple flashes’, but Hendrix’s sound is purple, with gold, rose, misty blue and lilac radiation.

At the risk of sounding trite and nostalgic, much of the music of the 21st century seems to be looking neither back nor forwards and is strangely neutered. Little seems to acclaim; to doubt, to love. And who is creating a new musical language? Hendrix’s guitar sound remains synesthetic, leaving a shadow of texture and colour and flavour. In ‘Love Or Confusion’, Hendrix asks: ‘Must there be all these colours/Without names, without sound?’ He gave them sound. The sound gave them meaning. And he did it with only a handful of albums.

Jimi Hendrix

It seems like a sort of nominative destiny – four years after Hendrix’s birth (27 November 1942 in Seattle, Washington), his father Al altered Hendrix’s first names from Johnny Allen to James Marshall. James Marshall Hendrix: a man who would challenge the world through his Fender guitar and Marshall stack. After a somewhat nomadic childhood (Hendrix and his brother Leon lived with various relatives after their parents’ divorce, whilst his father struggled to find work), Hendrix would undergo other name changes as he strived to build a musical career. Firstly, he was Private Hendrix when he spent a year in the 101st US Airborne Division in California. Reportedly obsessed with his guitar, Hendrix was a distracted and uncommitted paratrooper, and it’s likely that his discharge over an ankle injury was highly convenient and probably apocryphal. It’s rumoured that Hendrix faked mental illness and homosexuality to get himself thrown out, such was his antipathy towards being a soldier. Nevertheless, his time in the army did bestow two blessings – he experienced 26 parachute jumps: a feat that must’ve contributed to the vertiginous lyrics and soundscapes to come. He also met his future bassist Billy Cox, who would play with Hendrix in the army band The King Kasuals, contribute to Hendrix’s first recording session in 1962, and later be part of the Band of Gypsys.

In 1964, after gigging around the Chitlin’ Circuit (a problematic and divisive term taken from the dish of chitterlings – pig intestines – a meal frequently offered to black people in place of finer cuts; the term referred to venues that welcomed performers of colour at a time of racial segregation), Jimmy Hendricks backed the Isley Brothers, adding irrepressible guitar to their joyously unrestrained ‘Testify (Parts 1 and 2)’: ‘So glad I got some soul, woo!’. The track also declared, ‘I know James is a witness/Go ahead James and testify!’ Despite this being a name-check for James Brown (Stevie Wonder – who later jammed with Hendrix – and Jackie Wilson are invited to testify too), it seems to predict the musical avowals to come from Hendrix himself. He can also be heard on the Isley Brothers’ energetic ‘Move Over And Let Me Dance’, developing the polyphony he would later master, though his scribbly trills are lost behind the dogmatic brass. Another song that came in two parts like ‘Testify’ was Ray Sharpe’s ‘Help Me (Get the Feeling)’ – Hendrix brought it a tight rhythmic riff, but was again overpowered by the horns. Unfortunately, the song’s first part fades out just as the trim solo begins. ‘Part 2’ fades in on this and reveals it to be an almost shy performance. Nevertheless, the song has the vibe of Them’s ‘Gloria’, which Hendrix would later cover with some outright rude and crude playing and singing!

Unsurprisingly, there then came a stint backing Little Richard (later, Reverend), under Hendricks’ new moniker Maurice James. His snaking riffs can be heard on ‘It Ain’t Watcha Do (It’s The Way How You Do It)’, which has a shiver of ‘Gypsy Eyes’ from Electric Ladyland. The lines ‘Well, if the shoes don’t fit you/You better not force it’ could apply to the combination of two of rock’s most flamboyant figures sharing a stage. Little Richard was said to be annoyed – even threatened – by Hendrix’s ostentatious dress and stagecraft. Notwithstanding, Hendrix backs him with unassuming guitar on the rueful ‘I Don’t Know What You Got, But It’s Got Me’, where Richard sing-speaks in a way that his guitarist would later adopt. ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On’ is Hendrix’s messiest recording, with lots of ideas, from bends to trills to runs, but none of them executed cleanly. Nevertheless, Little Richard said of him in a 1973 documentary: ‘At times, he used to make my big toe shoot up in my boot… he didn’t mind looking freaky.’

However, Little Richard did seem to mind this, and by the end of the year, Hendrix had moved on and was playing with Curtis Knight and the Squires, but not before a curious detour that found him providing backing to cuts by actress Jayne Mansfield – star of the rock ’n’ roll vehicle The Girl Can’t Help It, which also features an exuberant Little Richard. Mansfield’s ‘As The Clouds Drift By’ cannot exactly be deemed a hidden gem, but in truth, is no worse than many frothy ballads of the time, and its dreamy minor-key fade-out is not a million miles from later floaty psych tracks. Its B-side – co-written by Hendrix’s first manager Ed Chalpin – is daft and jazzy in faux beatnik style à la Miss X’s ‘My Name Is Christine’: ‘It makes my knees freeze/It makes my liver quiver!’ The slick guitar licks and jumpy bass lines (both supposedly delivered by Hendrix) promise the more symbolist playing to come.

In Jimi Hendrix and the Making of Are You Experienced, Sean Egan writes: ‘The various musical adventures in which he took place (before forming The Experience), comprise the most inauspicious preamble’. This is an overstatement. Like The Beatles and indeed Led Zeppelin, Hendrix had to serve as a novice, and his varied apprenticeship made his music all the more kaleidoscopic. It cannot be asserted that anything pre-Experience is its equal, but there are enough highlights to make seeking out these tracks worthwhile. It also challenges some of the hyperbolic discourse that sets Hendrix as a sui generis phenomenon. In truth, that doesn’t elevate his brilliance, which he strove to achieve, but rather removes it from the man and his own experience. He was undoubtedly remarkable, but as has previously been stated, was also a man within as much as without his times. Furthermore, Hendrix was not only an innovator in terms of composition, but was an interpreter of genius. It is hard to deny that two cover versions (‘All Along The Watchtower’ and, yes, even ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’) rank amongst his most significant, powerful and famous accomplishments. Whilst nowhere near his greatest work, ‘Hey Joe’ is nevertheless an astonishing and encouraging interpretation. A man removed from his context would not have been as sensitive, knowing or responsive enough to put forth these recreations.

Where The Beatles’ covers – and even those of The Rolling Stones – are frequently the least interesting cuts of their oeuvre, there is a compelling argument that Hendrix’s reworkings are part of his quintessence, and certainly of his legacy. Would he have been as adept an interpreter without supporting other acts? And if we’re looking for inauspicious beginnings, then his predictable first live set with The Experience seems even less remarkable: ‘Land of 1000 Dances’, ‘Midnight Hour’, ‘Mercy, Mercy’ and ‘Hey Joe’. Yet these songs would inform his own writing and playing beyond the Experience and all the way into Band of Gypsys and beyond.

Returning to Hendrix’s stint with the Squires, we have him lending restrained support to the pleasant instrumental ‘Station Break’: a menacing riff to the buzzy Dick Dale-esque ‘Hornet’s Nest’ (where on this Hendrix co-write, his guitar and Nate Edmonds’ organ, work particularly well together, giving a little promise of ‘Voodoo Chile’), whilst ‘Gloomy Monday’’s fusion of pop, soul and rock showcases Hendrix on assured backing vocals too. But this work is still embryonic, and the newly named Jimmy James now formed his own band: The Blue Flames. But previously to this significant step forward, Hendrix also appeared on another important track: ‘Mercy, Mercy’ by Don Covay. Covay had worked with Little Richard and would go on to write for Aretha Franklin. Hendrix’s guitar-playing is understated (as is his contribution on a less successful Covay track ‘Can’t Stay Away’) but has a suitably pleasing tone that gives the song its character and would be partly revived for Hendrix’s own ‘Remember’. The song also opens with a rueful but ear-catching riff, and Hendrix would develop this for ‘Hey Joe’. Furthermore, the song so impressed Stax guitarist Steve Cropper that he recorded a version with Booker T. & the M.G.’s, and asked Hendrix to show him how he’d played it. Don Covay and the Goodtimers’ version of ‘Mercy, Mercy’ (sometimes known as ‘Have Mercy’) became an instant R&B standard, despite only reaching number 35 on the Billboard chart, and The Rolling Stones covered it on Out Of Our Heads. It was to be a bridging song for Hendrix; one he performed with the Squires, The Blue Flames and during Mitch Mitchell’s audition for The Experience and at some of their early gigs.

The Blue Flames started out as a trio with bassist Randy Palmer and drummer Dan Casey, performing a blend of blues, pop and soul. Intriguingly, a second guitarist was added: future Spirit member Randy California, who impressed with his slide playing. Rumour has it that Hendrix would later feel upstaged by some of California’s performances and, subsequently, California turned down Hendrix’s invitation to join him in London. Yet other sources attribute it to California’s parents considering him too young to go, which seems the likeliest story as he was only 15. Regardless, California learnt much about distortion from Hendrix, and would later cover ‘Red House’ and ‘Look Over Yonder’. Hendrix nicknamed him California because of the other Randy in the band: Randy Palmer, who became Randy Texas. However, Randy’s given name was the unfortunate Randy Wolf – sounds almost like the title of a Hendrix track! We can get a sense of how The Blue Flames were looking more towards Hendrix’s future sound in this reminiscing by Bob Kulick: sometime guitarist for Kiss, Alice Cooper, Meat Loaf and Diana Ross. He told Classic Rock:

In 1966, I was 16, and my band The Random Blues Band, played at the Café Wha? club in Greenwich Village. One day we were told this guy was coming down to audition, and the name of his band was Jimmy James and The Blue Flames. So we watched as this guy came in and started to set up his gear. He was asking about using two amp cabs together, and we all looked at each other like, ‘What? How do you do that?’ On stage, he had all these pedals, and I thought, ‘This should be interesting.’ He had a very interesting look. He looked like a star. The band started playing what sounded like a prototype of a ‘Third Stone From The Sun’ kind of song, and within one minute, you knew that the guy wiped the floor with everybody we’d ever seen play. By the end of his set, when he played solos with his teeth that nobody could play with their hands, we knew this guy was a sensation.

The Blue Flames’ take on Bo Diddley’s ‘I’m A Man’ displays Hendrix in a lower, growling register, but complete with ironic ‘Look out babies’ to announce its spiky solo. By then, they were a quintet with guitarist and harmonica player John Hammond swelling the ranks. It was this group that The Animals’ bassist Chas Chandler watched perform ‘Hey Joe’ at New York’s Café Wha? in the summer of 1966 after Linda Keith’s persistent recommendations: astounded, Chandler subsequently offered to manage Hendrix. One of the first questions Hendrix asked Chandler was if he knew Eric Clapton. Indeed, Chandler felt his friendship with Clapton – and his promise that Hendrix would impress Clapton much more than the other way around – was what really convinced Hendrix to fly to England and accept Chandler’s offer.

Lamentably, Hendrix had previously committed to a deal (in 1965) with Chalpin’s PPX Enterprises for exclusive recording rights. But in the excitement of becoming Jimi Hendrix – and a month later, The Jimi Hendrix Experience – this was forgotten.

The Are You Experienced Singles

Legend has it that Hendrix settled on his final and most famous moniker on the plane flying to Britain. An airborne baptism does indeed seem fitting. The Experience tag has been attributed to Chas Chandler, or sometimes to Mike Jeffery: The Animals’ manager who co-managed Hendrix with Chandler. Jeffery would be killed in a mid-air collision in 1973, but his troubling reputation has endured, with allegations of financial mismanagement, punishing work schedules, a bizarre kidnapping of Hendrix, and even involvement in his death. Whilst some of these claims are unsubstantiated, condemnation of Jeffery has been consistent from Hendrix’s bandmates, friends and biographers over the years. Many of these biographers have also sometimes taken exception to what they consider to be sexist Hendrix lyrics, yet it’s hard not to consider that the guitarist’s yearning to be ‘stone free’ might often have had more to do with Jeffery’s restraining deals that tethered Hendrix’s career than outright misogyny.

Yet Hendrix was blessed by Chandler’s support, and he was to step away from managing Hendrix to focus on producing him, meaning Chalpin was necessary. Chandler, too, has sometimes been described as tyrannical, and the dual roles of producer and manager usually do result in the artist feeling constrained (see also The Rolling Stones and Andrew Loog Oldham), but Chandler’s discipline, tenacity and professionalism undoubtedly helped to realise the Experience’s sound. Furthermore, he also coached Noel Redding in bass techniques and encouraged Hendrix to use his voice rhythmically and confidently. Another boon was the involvement of Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp, who set up Track Records to provide a label for Hendrix, and would allow him his greatest creative freedom so far.

When Hendrix arrived in England, he not only desired a sympathetic label, but he also needed a band. Curiously, Chandler first tried out Hendrix with organist Brian Auger, who introduced him to Marshall amps. This is a tantalising idea – as Hendrix might have gone on to develop his sounds with piano and organ augmentation – but surely, two lead players of such potency would neutralise each other. As this wasn’t to be, Chandler and Hendrix then began to seek musicians to form a band with Hendrix, although at this stage, it still wasn’t decided whether Hendrix would be the singer or frontman.

There were two likely candidates for drums: Mitch Mitchell and Aynsley Dunbar. Dunbar had played for The Mojos and would go on to work with John Mayall, Frank Zappa and David Bowie. The story goes that Dunbar lost on the toss of a coin.

Ealing’s Mitch Mitchell had picked up his drumsticks after a career as a child actor and had worked in Jim Marshall’s (he of the amplifier) music shop. Despite Mitchell’s contribution being underplayed at times, he features in Rolling