New York (United Block Association Harlem Benefit) : 5 septembre 1969

Gypsy Sun and Rainbows
United Block Association "Harlem Benefit"
5 septembre 1969


Titre :

1) Voodoo Child (slight return)
2) Machine Gun

Il existe un boots de 25 minutes d'un des rares concerts du Gypsy Sun and Rainbows (celui qui suit celui donné à Woodstock en fait)... et il est inaudible.

A défaut, voici la chronique d'époque du concert :

Jimi Hendrix is going back to his roots. He hasn't played a real Black club since the old roustabout days when he was Jimmy James, backing up the likes of the Isley Brothers, Little Richard, and Wilson Pickett. Earlier this summer, he asked to play Harlem's number one nightspot, the Apollo, but backed off at the standard demand of playing a one-week stand. Instead, he went one-step grittier, and played right out on 138th Street, right off Lennox Avenue in Harlem. Bro', that's IN. it.

What brought this all about is not for us to decide. (New nationalism? A think-ethnic campaign? Shirking off the honky plastic kingdom over which he used to be the major golden calf?) The show was, whatever Jimi's inten­tions, a soul soul fest. His new band was also on hand to break things in, being of a slightly darker shade of rhythm.

The stage was wooden platform four feet above the ground, and members of the Sam & Dave band were there to back up a succession of local talent. Screaming joking disk jockey Eddie O'Jay was a-panting, and bringing in Big Maybelle, J. D. Bryant, Chuck-a­luck, and Maxine Brown.

And then the sky went dark. The stage looked ominous with the back completely filled with six seven-foot high Marshall amplifiers. Voices passed around all goshed.

"Hey . . . you mean the Jimi Hen­drix Experience gon' be here?"

"Yeah man, look at all that equip­ment, why sheet."

Eddie O'Jay made the introduction four times, repeating it because the equipment kept snapping and crack­ling apart. (You couldn't get away with crap like that at the Apollo; you'd get booed off the stage.) O'Jay kept ex­plaining how, even though he never got to play any of Hendrix's records on his true soul show, this man was concerned with the young musician, and Brotherhood of all mankind, and things.

I was hoping Jimi would come out in a blue tuxedo and break right into "Midnight Hour" or "Land of a Thousand Dances." But true to form (caIl him psychedelic, you may call him "far out," but whatever he's YOURS), he came out in white silk pants, fringes down to the ground, silk shirts and pink scarf wrapped around his head.

He was slow at the beginning, start­ing with a ripped version of "Fire." He said, "this music might sound loud and funky, but that's what's in the air right now, isn't it?" And then "Foxey Lady," which charred the first six rows of packed standing fans. Then the "Star Spangled Banner," which sounded like feedback violins shot through with dis­sonance. Which broke into "Purple Haze," (which didn't take too much philosophical meat to understand.) He was joking with the crowd, dedicating songs to girls in the crowd with yeIlow underwear and embarrassed smiles. He wasn't coming off with his Madison Square Garden image of a huge-loined desperado whumping and jacking-off his axe tiredly, and then retiring to his den of lions, while the pimply boys and girls in the crowd leave with their images working overtime, but almost feeling cheated.

No... in Harlem, he was right down in it there, honest and true blue / black. "Red House" never sounded bluesier. To finish it all off, he an­nounced the Harlem National Anthem, and wah-wahhed off into "Voodoo Chile, Slight Return." (All new mean­ings arriving, chopping it all down with the edge of a hand.)

His band still has Mitch Mitchell on drums, but Noel Redding abruptly split last June when he found Jimi was adding to the group without his con­sultation. Billy Cox, supposedly an old Army buddy of Hendrix's, plays bass, and I must confess, even as much as I like Noel, Cox is a much more present bassist. (Redding always was a guitar­ist anyway, not a bassman.) Larry Lee plays rhythm guitar, and is given time to take solos at times. At the concert, he sounded good enough to play lead for his own band.

These two cats seem to add that final dimension that was missing before in Hendrix's live music. On the "Are You Experienced" album, he taped over his own rhythm guitar, so as to have some sort of melody to fall back on. Larry Lee now keeps it present all the time.

(I remember back in the days of Hendrix's first onslaught, and Cream just starting too, and the Yardbirds fin­ishing off their days as a trio, and the people immediately said "Look! All that sound! From a trio. A new con­cept, new music." Forget that the Who have been doing it all this time. Now Blind Faith had to bring in a fourth member for rhythm. Hendrix has him­self a rhythm guitarist.)

Also meandering around on the side­lines are Juma, in a floor-length dashi­ki, playing bongoes with kettle drum sounds, and Jerry Velez, unconcernedly popping and pumping on a bongo. With all this new addition to the group, the sound still remains Well Done Hen­drix. (Jimi eating out the guitar; Jimi playing with his elbow; Jimi swinging the Stratocaster around back so the neck comes out through his crotch; Jimi picking and grinning with his teeth snapping the strings. The hot Harlem fans going wild. Walking home, one guy shouted out in his excitement, "Man, I'm going home right now and practice on my guitar!" He sank to his knees in a spasm, clutching an imag­inary guitar in front of him. His friends jeering at him, but digging it.)

(...)

Seeing Jimi in Harlem, it was blaz­ingly apparent that he has a new spirit. He had become, say in the last year, almost a doll in the plastic house. (Not that he hadn't asked for it.) He still does his gymnastics, but with a snicker and an outright pleased laugh. He shot his eyes open to the people at the foot of the stage with a "ain't that a gas?" uptown cheer. He has that crazy-ass spirit that he had in Monterey, and his new no-nonsense band means that we'll hear some more drive and power and RESPECTING good music. Those windswept guitar lines we been wait­ing on.

Source : Experience Break-Up: Noel Splits And Jimi Moves Uptown
Circus Magazine, November 1969
By Chris Hodenfield

Ce qui nous donne la setlist partielle suivante :

1. Fire
2. Foxy Lady
3. Star Spangled Banner
4. Purple Haze
5. Red House
6. Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)
7. Machine Gun

NEW YORK TIMES :
Jimi Hendrix introduced his expanded revue, ‘Gypsy, Sun and Rainbow’ at a benefit performance last night for the United Block Association. Neighbourhood residents and a handful of young white rock fans stood for hours on 139th Street near Lennox Avenue to hear the singer and others including the Sam and Dave band, Big Maybelle and J.D. Brown, perform for the Block Association, a poverty program unit that runs day care centers and tutorial programs for it’s member associations. Mr. Hendrix in white horse-hair slacks, a cream-coloured fringed buckskin jacket and a pink headband said before the show that he had come to Harlem for personal reasons as well as to support the block association.

Jimi: “Sometimes when I come up here, people say I play white rock for white people.”
NYT: “What are you doing up here?”
Jimi: “Well I want to show that music is universal - that there is no white rock or black rock. Some of these kids haven’t got the $6 to go to Madison Square Garden - besides I used to play up here myself at Small’s over 135th and Seventh.”


DISC & MUSIC ECHO - ‘Hendrix In Hip Harlem’ by Richard Robinson:
”As I said, about 5,000 people showed up to see him. Maxine Brown and Big Maybelle appeared before Jimi and by the time Hendrix came on, which was after midnight, the crowd had dwindled to about 500 and by the time he had finished playing the estimated crowd figure was 200 with about 50 white hippies among them.”

CIRCUS
‘EXPERIENCE BREAK-UP: NOEL SPLITS AND JIMI MOVES UPTOWN’ By Chris Hodenfield:

Jimi Hendrix is going back to his roots. He hasn't played a real Black club since the old roustabout days when he was Jimmy James, backing up the likes of the Isley Brothers, Little Richard, and Wilson Pickett. Earlier this summer, he asked to play Harlem's number one nightspot, the Apollo, but backed off at the standard demand of playing a one-week stand. Instead, he went one-step grittier, and played right out on 138th Street, right off Lennox Avenue in Harlem. Bro', that's IN. it.
What brought this all about is not for us to decide. (New nationalism? A think-ethnic campaign? Shirking off the honky plastic kingdom over which he used to be the major golden calf?) The show was, whatever Jimi's inten­tions, a soul soul fest. His new band was also on hand to break things in, being of a slightly darker shade of rhythm.
The stage was wooden platform four feet above the ground, and members of the Sam & Dave band were there to back up a succession of local talent. Screaming joking disk jockey Eddie O'Jay was a-panting, and bringing in Big Maybelle, J. D. Bryant, Chuck-a­luck, and Maxine Brown.
And then the sky went dark. The stage looked ominous with the back completely filled with six seven-foot high Marshall amplifiers. Voices passed around all goshed.
"Hey . . . you mean the Jimi Hen­drix Experience gon' be here?"
"Yeah man, look at all that equip­ment, why sheet."
Eddie O'Jay made the introduction four times, repeating it because the equipment kept snapping and crack­ling apart. (You couldn't get away with crap like that at the Apollo; you'd get booed off the stage.) O'Jay kept ex­plaining how, even though he never got to play any of Hendrix's records on his true soul show, this man was concerned with the young musician, and Brotherhood of all mankind, and things.
I was hoping Jimi would come out in a blue tuxedo and break right into "Midnight Hour" or "Land of a Thousand Dances." But true to form (caIl him psychedelic, you may call him "far out," but whatever he's YOURS), he came out in white silk pants, fringes down to the ground, silk shirts and pink scarf wrapped around his head.
He was slow at the beginning, start­ing with a ripped version of "Fire." He said, "this music might sound loud and funky, but that's what's in the air right now, isn't it?" And then "Foxey Lady," which charred the first six rows of packed standing fans. Then the "Star Spangled Banner," which sounded like feedback violins shot through with dis­sonance. Which broke into "Purple Haze," (which didn't take too much philosophical meat to understand.) He was joking with the crowd, dedicating songs to girls in the crowd with yeIlow underwear and embarrassed smiles. He wasn't coming off with his Madison Square Garden image of a huge-loined desperado whumping and jacking-off his axe tiredly, and then retiring to his den of lions, while the pimply boys and girls in the crowd leave with their images working overtime, but almost feeling cheated.
No ... in Harlem, he was right down in it there, honest and true blue / black. "Red House" never sounded bluesier. To finish it all off, he an­nounced the Harlem National Anthem, and wah-wahhed off into "Voodoo
These two cats seem to add that final dimension that was missing before in Hendrix's live music. On the "Are You Experienced" album, he taped over his own rhythm guitar, so as to have some sort of melody to fall back on. Larry Lee now keeps it present all the time.
(I remember back in the days of Hendrix's first onslaught, and Cream just starting too, and the Yardbirds fin­ishing off their days as a trio, and the people immediately said "Look! All that sound! From a trio. A new con­cept, new music." Forget that the Who have been doing it all this time. Now Blind Faith had to bring in a fourth member for rhythm. Hendrix has him­self a rhythm guitarist.)
Chile, Slight Return." (All new mean­ings arriving, chopping it all down with the edge of a hand.)
His band still has Mitch Mitchell on drums, but Noel Redding abruptly split last June when he found Jimi was adding to the group without his con­sultation. Billy Cox, supposedly an old Army buddy of Hendrix's, plays bass, and I must confess, even as much as I like Noel, Cox is a much more present bassist. (Redding always was a guitar­ist anyway, not a bassman.) Larry Lee plays rhythm guitar, and is given time to take solos at times. At the concert, he sounded good enough to play lead for his own band.
Also meandering around on the side­lines are Juma, in a floor-length dashi­ki, playing bongoes with kettle drum sounds, and Jerry Velez, unconcernedly popping and pumping on a bongo. With all this new addition to the group, the sound still remains Well Done Hen­drix. (Jimi eating out the guitar; Jimi playing with his elbow; Jimi swinging the Stratocaster around back so the neck comes out through his crotch; Jimi picking and grinning with his teeth snapping the strings. The hot Harlem fans going wild. Walking home, one guy shouted out in his excitement, "Man, I'm going home right now and practice on my guitar!" He sank to his knees in a spasm, clutching an imag­inary guitar in front of him. His friends jeering at him, but digging it.)
Noel Redding, meanwhile, is stay­ing with the group Fat Matress, which he formed last Winter to keep himself occupied. Back then, people rushed to say that yes, the Jimi Hendrix Exper­ience was breaking up. With Noel in the Fat Matress will be Neil Landon, singer and writer; Jimmy Leverton, bass and keyboards, and Eric Dillon, drums. Landon used to be with the Flower Pot, and the other two have previously backed up Engelbert Hump­erdinck. When I talked to him in the Spring, however, he just said that the new band gave him something to do, which, seemingly, would be true. In the beginning, Jimi used to even direct the bass lines he wanted for a song, and Noel, frankly talented, should have been bored. But he saw no reason for a break-up then.

He now plays lead guitar, and says the Fat Matress will have a "pop sound." Like the Byrds or Small Faces. A single, "Naturally," should be out soon, and the album, made by Polydor in England, will be distributed here by Atlantic.
Hendrix has been working on an al­bum continually since the last album was wrapped up. A session here, a jam there kind of method. This month we should see his first "live" album, which he recorded at an Albert Hall concert, and at the Forum in Los Angeles. Visit­ing the Manhattan studio on a purple-lit recording night, they were all cast around the engineering room listening to the tapes of the "live" album yet to be released. It sounded similar in spirit to the Rolling Stones' "Got Live If You Want It." A speedfreak performance. "Foxey Lady's" introduction was stretched out into a minor feedback showcase, then into the ripply little segment where he's tapping his fingers on the strings on and on; explosion as he sounds like he's grinding the guitar against the microphone stand, then into a speeded-up version of the infamous jolly three-note "Foxey Lady" riff. The overall sound is a blistering distorted one. "Red House" sounds even better than on the "Smash Hits" album. As a finisher, as usual, was "I Don't Live Today." dedicated to the American In­dian. (His grandmother, yes, is a full­blooded Cherokee.)
In the studio, as on stage, Jimi was the master of the Experience. There's no shittin' around, nossir. Jimi was right in there giving instructions to each of them, telling Mitch that he should come in at a certain point for a small drum display. The song was instrumental, and sounded something like that two-chord progression in the beginning of "Stone Free." Just a sim­ple whaddy-dat-whaddy guitar run. Except that they did take after take on it, battling their way through "any spare joints" and cans of Miller beer.
This madness for perfection used to rankle Noel, who liked basic rock'n'roll and not the, what he called, "too much technicality" of the first two albums. "He used to have us do up to 40 or so takes on a song," said Noel, "and, you know, after that much you really can't play anymore." (Not all songs were like that, however. "The Wind Cries Mary," the longest cut of the album, was done in two tries.)
Back on the home front of the pres­ent, the fodder of Jimi's publicity has shifted from Sex King to busted drug­gie. His smack and hashish run-in up at the Toronto airport gave immediate rise to eyebrows and knowing-it an­swers of, "Well, didn't you know?" Ru­mors fly about Hendrix's earlier days, and that the person who took care of him, fed him on a steady diet of speed. "He's out of it, really," they mutter in clandestine tones. You read any of his interviews, and it might be apparent that his mind does travel in whooping, circular patterns. But that is the ear­mark of heavy personal thinking as well as "speed." (Shucks man, get off it.)
The man had some hard time of it up there in Toronto, and when he went back for his preliminary hearing, he was supposed to have been nothing but resentful and ornery-nostrilled to the judge. And well he might have been, for the whole thing sounds like a hoax and a plant to me.
The drugs were found directly on top of clothes inside his luggage. Now who puts their stash right on top? Especially well-travelled freaks like Mr. Jimi, through border crossings. When he re­ported to the Toronto medical exam­ining board, his body was found clean and pure. Ain't a trace a shit in Jimi; but the word-of-mouth-and-press was not so clean.
Seeing Jimi in Harlem, it was blaz­ingly apparent that he has a new spirit. He had become, say in the last year, almost a doll in the plastic house. (Not that he hadn't asked for it.) He still does his gymnastics, but with a snicker and an outright pleased laugh. He shot his eyes open to the people at the foot of the stage with a "ain't that a gas?" uptown cheer. He has that crazy-ass spirit that he had in Monterey, and his new no-nonsense band means that we'll hear some more drive and power and RESPECTING good music. Those windswept guitar lines we been wait­ing on.
(Page 17) Head shots of Jimi at rehearsals on the Dick Cavett show.Caption: ‘Jimi is the only guitarist who is left handed and sometimes plays a standard guitar. Few can play faster and none more forceful.’ Photo of the JHE with Juma at rehearsals on the Dick Cavett show Cation: ‘The new group [sic] Jimi Hendrix, Mitch Mitchell, Jerry Velez [sic], Billy Cox. Photo of Mitch playing on Dick Cavett show underneath, next to a photo of Noel. Caption: Mitch remains, but Noel splits to join Fat Mattress’ who, he says, “will have a pop sound, like the Byrds or Small Faces.”

CIRCUS?
“[…] The Harlem concert was the greatest I’d ever seen him do. He had enthusiasm and willingness to boogie. For the finale he played a warped, hi-screech version of the ‘Star Spangled Banner,’ which went dripping and screaming into dissonancy. Coming back from that, he said, ‘Now we’re gonna play the Harlem National Anthem,’ and stepped on his trusty wah-wah pedal for a dynamite version of ‘Voodoo Child (Slight Return).’ Towards the end he turned and flew into the amplifier, chipping off a corner, but he came bouncing back with a big smile and a peace- sign as if to say, ‘yeah, but don’t forget He did this again, much to the cheers of the street. He shot everyone a black power wrist, which got some reaction, and then a peace sign, which got even more of a gelasmus. And then, to top it all off, he flipped everyone another sign, which sort of brought the sky down. He is a master performer when he wants to be one, and this concert gave him the necessary inspiration.”

last photo - "cry of love band" lol

Jolie photo encore !