Jimi Hendrix: and the gods made love
In the beginning were The Beatles. They brought music. Then Dylan came and he brought the Word. And then there was Hendrix. His gift was the guitar. And with it, loudness, dedication, tenderness, passion, rage, ecstasy, sex, the Universe and stars, and the first rays of the rising sun.
Hendricks took almost 4 years to shape his vision: from 1966 until his fucking early and meaningless death at the age of 27 on September 18, 1970. And if we say frankly, we mean a much more specific period of time (namely 20 months), during which the albums “You You Experienced”, “Axis: Bold as Love” and “Electric Ladyland”, are Hendrix’s only studio work , completed during his lifetime, were still in dreams. Following this, he began to move along the winding path of creative stupor, the fight against rejection, insecurity, his personal demons and drugs, which he slipped from every corner. He could do nothing else – there was no new material, and the dissonance between the voices in his head and the music on magnetic tapes was too striking.
But shortly before Hendrix became a man without time, the embodiment of all the youth who considered the counterculture the only connecting substance between them and society, all the crap started to come out: Vietnam, unrest, discontent. Hendricks was to become the Savior, who would rescue his Children with the help of a sometimes enchanting, and sometimes screaming guitar.
In this short period of time, Hendrix opens the guitar in a new way, expanding the capabilities of his instrument more than any artist before and after it. He plays with the ardor of the possessed and the attraction of a freshly baked groom, the tenderness of a lover and the experience of a lover. He knows how to make the instrument sound as if the gods make love, as if a wild cat hisses in the distance, as if the sea washes away sand castles on the shore.
Hendrix’s music is a truly sensual experience, saturated with sex to the bone. He asks if you had the same Experience, and everyone, of course, nods affirmatively, because, of course, by this he can mean drugs, heavenly matter, psychedelic experience. Well and, of course, sex. Even more than anything else. Even more than his idols – The Beatles and Dylan: if you open the Experience and it opens, lets you in, it closes, then this experience is not only for the mind, but also for the body. Hendricks kisses his guitar, licks it, takes possession of her, ends on her. We saw a photo. Well and yes, how else can you describe this unbridled act of love between Hendricks and his instrument, which he shared with the world?
He combined skill, technique, talent, the ability to feel the instrument and imagination. He was pretty ahead of his time when music was based on blues, jazz, r’n’b, rock, but had no deviations from the course. Experience is here and now, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, utopia, promise.
The Beatles shot a studio in which they locked themselves in the devil knows how much, and tormented themselves. Dylan, while in a state of internal emigration, licked his physical and psychological wounds. And Hendricks carried a cross that no one would want to bear. He was not the one who was arguing about before fights: a symbol of counterculture, the eternal headliner of major rock festivals, a face from countless posters and book covers … Nothing better happened to people than his “broken face with curly hair” (text from dust jacket on “Axis: Bold As Love” – approx. Ed.), depicted everywhere where they want to convey the meaning that music should bring liberation and freedom. Hendrix no longer belongs to himself. This is the property of the public, trademark, trademark, Coca-Cola of the upcoming revolution, which I do not want to start.
Hendricks does not even suspect a subsequent unsuccessful parish, when on the last evening of the Monterey Pop Festivals on June 18, 1967 he stands on the stage and watches The Who crushing their instruments into chips. Jimi, in theory, should have done his pants with fear, going on stage after them, but he is charged with positive energy: no one and nothing will spoil him this moment, the greatest moment in his biography, the return of the prodigal son to the United States. More than a year has passed since Chaz Chandler decided to look at him on the advice of Keith Richards’ friend Linda Keith in “Cafe Wha?” on McDougal Street 115 in Greenwich Village, where Jimi was trying to attract attention as Jimmy James And The Blue Flames. Chandler is not the heady 27-year-old The Animals bass player from northern Britain with familiar manners. Geordie, who realized that the multimillion-dollar success of “The House Of The Rising Sun” has passed and is now only in decline. He wants to start producing and is looking for an artist who needs help building a career. Hendricks knows that he can burn the world to ashes with his guitar, but he does not know how to do it. Chandler becomes for him a kind of incendiary mixture. September 24, 1966 they come to London and do not lose time in vain.