YOUNG HAWAII - ‘The Hendrix Experience Experienced’ by Steve Moore:
“Small Comfort Department: For you guys who went to see Jimi Hendrix in one of several of his various performances at the Shell and left with your chick and hurried back to your pad to make it on the continuing vibes, if at any time you wished you were Jimi, don’t worry. As far as your chick was concerned, you probably were. I saw the aborted - somehow that word doesn’t fit in connection with Hendrix; the chick would go ahead and have the kid – show on Friday and the rerun on Sunday. Friday was pretty grim and Sunday was pretty great. He probably just didn’t feel like playing Friday and Hawaiian Electric or whoever gave him a good excuse to split, so as it turned out, it was a good move. For one thing The Fat Mattress, Noel Redding’s group, which was quite raw Friday, got together by Sunday and was very fine. And it is a good balance to Hendrix’ virtuoso guitar sound because it is definitely a group thing. Redding’s guitar is not the standard ego-trip lead, it is rather an element of the whole and that brings out the solid vocals and bass. The last number they did, and I can’t remember the name of it, was first-rate stuff and they were duly appreciated. Which put the people in the right mood for Hendrix and it seems that that is important for him because Friday, when the Fat Mattress was not so hot, the crowd was a little turned off and as everyone started off on a down, that’s where they stayed. Sunday, however, it was a jazzer from the start. (Ask a friend, if you like, about the etymology of ‘jazz’) Because that is where Hendrix is. And was. I don’t see too much difference in what he is doing now and what he did last year. But when you think about it, the business of changing and developing as with Dylan and The Beatles and The Stones is essentially a white process. The bluesmen don’t go through that. They play blues now, they always have played blues and they will always play blues. Maybe they will get better at certain licks but they don’t change too much. The difference may be that for them it is a life style and for the whites a gig. (White here is a term for people who are not playing blues. Johnny Mathis, for instance, is white but Paul Butterfield is blue.)
Hendrix looks almost frustrated as he plays. I think he would be happier playing with ballpeen hammers instead of a pick, but even then he can’t milk any more sound out of that one guitar than he does. And it is really a gas to hear him use what he has available. All the distortion becomes as musical as the straight stuff which prompts the old question about what is music and what isn’t. Anything you can get behind is music. Of what he does I like ‘Foxy Lady’ and ‘Red House’ best, I guess. ‘Red House’ because it is so extremely different from anything else he does and shows best his roots. He also plays a good knife lick in it without the knife. It is thoroughly down-home blues. ‘Lady’ because it is such a good microcosm of what he is: eroticism rampant. In fact he strikes me as the highwayman in that poem about Bess, the land lord’s daughter. With all the chicks in The World as Bess. Except that Hendrix ends up shooting down the sheriff instead of the other way ‘round, as with his dedication to ‘the plainclothes and other goofballs in the audience.’ Do you ever watch the cops during these things? (And there were plenty to watch at this one. Talk about strange. They stand around, kind of incredulous about the whole thing and, I think, confused. They are confused because there is a tremendous amount of violent sound and concentration, ingredients with which they identify, but here the motivation is love and not busting heads (read as either hitting crania with sticks or incarcerating dope fiends) and they are lost. So the next time you see one of our protectors scratching his head, just go up and say hello and wish him a pleasant evening. Maybe tell him he looks nice in blue. Or give him a lei. It’s probably what he needs most. What started in disaster, then, ended up in triumph. For the audience as well as the players because how often do 8,000 get a show blown out from under them and just go away calmly? With rational people it’s possible and because they did it, they were rewarded with a mind- blower, if we may. Or as a friend said, “I’m deaf out of both my ears.”
Sujet: Honolulu Hawaii (Waikiki Shell) : 1er juin 1969 
Jeu 8 Juil 2010 - 19:13
