The Jimi Hendrix Experience (Mitch Mitchell & John Platt) [1990]

The Jimi Hendrix Experience (Mitch Mitchell & John Platt) [1990]

Conscient du regain d’intérêt pour la musique de Jimi Hendrix dans les années 80, Mitch Mitchell travailla en compagnie de John Platt sur un livre consacré au guitariste, publié lors du vingtième anniversaire de la disparition tragique du guitariste. Mitch Mitchell n’est pas le seul proche de Jimi à s’être attelé à cet exercice : Curtis Knight, Noel Redding (la même année que Mitch), Eddie Kramer, Billy Cox, Kathy Etchingham, Al Hendrix ou encore Sharon Laurence ont eux aussi livré leurs témoignages. Mitch Mitchell se distingue toutefois du lot pour une raison évidente : d’un point de vue musical, il est de loin le plus proche collaborateur de Jimi. La parenthèse du Band Of Gypsys exceptée, Mitch Mitchell est le seul musicien qui a suivi Jimi durant les 4 années qui ont fait sa légende.

Le long des 176 pages du livre, beaucoup de photographies sont reproduites, dont certaines assez rares, ainsi que divers documents en lien avec l'Experience, comme des affiches de concert. La distinction entre les propos de Mitch Mitchell & ceux de John Platt est très claire : tous les commentaires de Mitch sont en caractère gras, écrits à la première personne alors que le style de John Platt est narratif. Le seul véritable reproche que l'on peut faire au livre est son manque de densité : Mitch est parfois quelque peu elliptique, zappant très largement certaines périodes, comme le Cry Of Love Tour. On notera que, d'une manière générale, il est très critique sur la musique qui a suivi l'Experience : il trouve le Gypsy Sun & Rainbows catastrophique et les concerts de 1970 le plus souvent peu enthousiasmants.

Toutefois, son livre demeure passionnant pour sa subjectivité, et le regard qu'il nous offre sur Jimi. Un regard plein de tendresse, d'un homme qui sait pourtant être acerbe à l'occasion. Le dernier volet du livre, consacré au montage de "The Cry Of Love" est très émouvant - et fort instructif. Mitch regrette de ne pas avoir bénéficié de plus de temps pour parfaire le projet, mais aussi de n'avoir eu accès qu'à la 1/2 des bandes, ce qui explique selon lui pourquoi le disque est à ce point centré sur les dernières sessions.

Enfin, son regard sur les proches de Jimi est lui aussi très intéressant. Même s'il était conscient des limites de Noel en tant que musicien, il fait preuve de compassion à son égard - alors qu'il éreinte Buddy Miles pour son attitude lors de l'enterrement de Jimi (un passage éprouvant à lire...). Mike Jeffery n'est à aucun moment présenté comme le monstre dépeint dans certaines biographies.

Quelques extraits traduits par mes soins pour le forum :

« Malgré la présence d’un certaine dose d’expérimentation en studio, "Are You Experienced", c’était l’Experience Live sur disque. On a joué la plupart des chansons en concert, certaines occasionnellement comme "Manic Depression" ou "Third Stone From The Sun", mais dans l’ensemble, c’est devenu la base de nos performances pendant un bon moment. Il y avait quelques titres qu’on ne jouait pas en concert, comme "Remember" ou "May This Be Love", parce qu’en toute franchise, c’était du remplissage, et non parce que nous ne pouvions pas les reprendre sur scène. »

« Après le Guitar-In Festival, nous avons passé trois jours à Paris. Le 10 octobre [1967], on avait une date à l’Olympia, comme d’habitude, puis le lendemain, voire le jour suivant, on a fait une autre session filmée de bonne heure le matin, sur une sorte de site en construction. La différence réside dans le fait qu’on a joué une version Live de "La Marseillaise". De ce que j’ai entendu comme histoire, le gouvernement français a été tellement scandalisé par cette profanation que le film a été saisi, et que s’il existe toujours, il est bien gardé dans les archives du gouvernement. »

« La chanson "The Stars That Play With Laughing Sam's Dice" était une blague délibérée, vous savez, S.T.P. avec L.S.D. Mais c’était un bouche-trou, fait en une seule prise avec les voix de fond faites par les gens qui étaient dans le studio. C’était surtout des vieux amis de Jimi comme Devon Wilson. Bien que nous prenions alors tous du LSD dans un but récréatif, il n’y a vraiment rien à comprendre dans la chanson. C’est juste une face B écrite rapidement, inutile de dire qu’on ne l’a jamais jouée sur scène. »


En v.o. des extraits sur la production de "The Cry Of Love" :

« I don't remember how long after Jimi's funeral it was, but I got a call from Jeffery, not that long probably. What he said was that there were only two people who knew the material, myself and Eddie Kramer. How did I feel about coming over to New York, to go through the tapes? The honest answer was that I didn't know. I thought it over and said that I'd go over for a couple of days, give it a try and see how it feels. So that's what I did. (...)

Surprisingly, it didn't feel too bad. There had been a very good chance that I wouldn't have been able to deal with it at all, particularly so close to Jimi's death, but it was OK, felt quite warm. I saw Mike and Eddie and said that I'd do it. (...)

At no point did I get a bad feeling working in the studio. Without being cosmic, which I'm not, I did keep getting these incredibly vivid dreams, to the point of visitations and conversations. 'What do you think of this mix?' And he'd tell me. Reality? Who knows. (...)

It became apparent fairly quickly when we were going through the tapes that a couple of drum overdubs were essential, especially on 'Angel'. It was weird, Stephen Stills was working in studio B next door and, of course, he knew Hendrix well. So we had him come in and check my new parts out. They were my drum parts originally, but either they were too scrappy or after the inevitable transfers and speed changes they needed beefing up. (...)

In retrospect I feel proud of Cry Of Love. I think we did the best we could using the tapes we had. If Warner's had been cooperative and we'd had more time, it would certainly have been better. I think it's undoubtedly better than many of the later albums. »

A propos de la mort de Jimi :

« The following Thursday night, the 17th, I had to drive up to London. About quarter to seven I went to see Gerry Stickells, who said that Hendrix had called about fifteen minutes previoiusly, would I give him a call.

I called him up and he asked me what I was doing. I told him I was just off to visit Ginger Baker and then we were going out to Heathrow Airport to meet Sly Stone, who was flying in.

Jimi was really excited about Sly and said, "is there any chance of a play?" So I said, "funny you should say that, yeah, the idea is we're all going down to the Speakeasy for a jam." Jimi was really up for it and agreed to meet us there about midnight. His agreeing was no surprise: anywhere in the world, Jimi was always up for a play: it took precedence over anything.

Anyway, we met Sly, who was knocked out that Jimi wanted to play and, after checking him in at the hotel, we went down to the club. We got there and we waited and we waited. By one o'clock people were starting to sort of look at each other and by two they were starting to say it was odd.

In the end we all sat there till closing time which was about four. I remember having this odd feeling when I left that was hard to define. If nothing else it was just so out of character for Hendrix not to have shown, especially as he'd appeared full of beans earlier and really wanted to do it.

I drove back to my house, about an hour and half's drive. I didn't go to bed and sat up for what seemed like a few hours, but may well have been longer. I'm not sure of the time, but I got a call from Eric Barrett, telling me that Jimi had died. I just couldn't believe it. I couldn't release any emotion at all. I finally got some sleep about six the next night, but waking up later, it was a bit like when Jimi had crashed his car in Benedict Canyon and had come in and told me about it, you know, "Did I dream that?" Again I woke up thinking, "was that the truth?" and, of course, sadly it was. I couldn't handle it at all.

The worst thing was the funeral, it was like a circus. I flew out to Seattle with Noel, who I'd seen a few times in the past months. He hadn't seen much of Jimi , but he had been to the opening of the Electric Lady studio and there was still a lot of affection between all of us.

What led up to Jimi's death remains a matter of speculation and is unlikely ever to be fully explained. Suicide is generally ruled out, although he wasn't going through a wonderfully happy period, and foul play seems more the stuff of conspiracy theories, which leaves "accidental death" as the most likely cause.

The whole thing with the night Jimi died is odd. There are definitely a couple of hours in there that no one can account for. We know that he went to see Alan Douglas, who was in town, likewise Devon Wilson. Devon was staying in Mayfair, not far from the Speakeasy, so I can see him going there to pick her up enroute to the club.

Earlier on in the evening Jimi is supposed to have got stuck in traffic at Marble Arch and talked to people in an adjacent car, who invited him to a party, which he ultimately went to. I find that very odd as well. At some point, later on, he definitely phoned someone -- Gerry, I think -- in the course of which he said something like, "I'll never do that again," but what that referred to I don't know.

Jimi was spending most of those last days with Monika Danneman who - no offense to her - was not the great love of Jimi's life. There have only been two of these , Cathy Etchingham in the early days in England, and Devon Wilson. I do know, though, that Devon Wilson was becoming a bit of a handful by then and he wasn't overjoyed to discover she was over here as well. Sadly, Devon died under mysterious circumstances herself a few years later.

What did happen we'll probably never know. I certainly don't think it was suicide. Undoubtedly, he'd been tired and depressed, especially after those last European gigs, but definitely not suicidal. I think it was a tragic accident, but some of the circumstances surrounding it are certainly odd.

In the end, all you can say is, "What a fucking waste." He was irreplacable, both as a friend and musician. I miss him as much today as twenty years ago. There was so much more that he was capable of and his music would have changed as would the musicians he worked with, including drummers. I like to think, though, not that I was the perfect drummer for Jimi, but that maybe once a year we'd always get together to do some gigs, each of us having played with other people in the mean time. There is no doubt, though, that he was not simply a hard act to follow - more an impossible act to follow. »

- Où peut-on se procurer ce livre?

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Ayler a écrit:

. Il y avait quelques titres qu’on ne jouait pas en concert, comme "Remember" ou "May This Be Love", parce qu’en toute franchise, c’était du remplissage, et non parce que nous ne pouvions pas les reprendre sur scène. »

J'ai toujours trouvé ces deux titres moins forts que les autres , dans un album monstrueux.

Assez d'accord pour "Remember" mais le solo est fantastique ! Par contre j'adore "May This Be Love". L'album avait besoin d'un petit ballad pour créer du contraste et encore, le solo est d'une beauté...

Ayler a écrit:

TMême s'il était conscient des limites de Noel en tant que musicien, il fait preuve de compassion à son égard - alors qu'il éreinte Buddy Miles pour son attitude lors de l'enterrement de Jimi (un passage éprouvant à lire...).

En deux mots, il aurait fait quoi, le père Buddy ?     
Il faut absolument que je lise les livres de Mitch et de Noel. J'ai tenu celui de Noel dans mes mains, sans avoir assez de thunes, et quand je suis revenu, il était parti...
Sinon, c'est du bouquin de Mitch qu'est partie cette histoire de "Marseillaise" à ce que je vois !

The Genius Of Mitch Mitchell, proposé par Drumeo :



Bien ficelé... et à voir rapidement car Tata Janie a déjà supprimé deux fois la vidéo !