Hendrix arrived in London on the morning of September 24, 1966, under the wing of newly minted manager Chas Chandler, and was immediately put to work, at first making guest appearances with folks like Georgie Fame and Brian Auger, and most famously Cream, in the circuit of elite nightclubs frequented by British rock royalty - Scotch of St. James, Speakeasy, Blaises, Bag O' Nails.  Of course none of these informal appearances were recorded, even as they quickly became legendary through word of mouth.  Within five days, Chas held a blitz of auditions and quickly chose Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding as support.

As was common in the industry of the time, the new outfit was booked on a couple warm-up shows on "the continent" before making their proper British debut.  The Olympia Theater in Paris would become a significant venue for the band in its first couple of years, so it may be appropriate that it was here, on October 18, that we get the first recordings of the group, "Killing Floor" and "Hey Joe" (JHE box), although "Wild Thing" was also performed (whether the estate is still sitting on that, or whether it was neglected by the tape recorder is unknown).  These songs are appropriate seeds for what was to come.  At the previously mentioned sit-in with Cream, on Oct. 1, Hendrix launced into "Killing Floor", a Howling Wolf favorite, which stunned Eric Clapton.  Despite some fictitious dramatizations out there, Clapton did not storm off the stage in a huff, but it did scare the shit out of him.  "Killing Floor" was a lick that Clapton admitted he had been unable to master, and eventually learned it directly from Hendirx that night.  It became Jimi's calling card, the best immediate evidence that British blues-rock guitarists need to watch their asses.  "Hey Joe" was an obvious choice for his first single, a popular folk song that had been recorded by The Byrds, The Standells, Love, The Leaves and other groups over the previous year, and a tune that was a highlight of Hendrix's Greenwich Village shows in the summer of '66, the vehicle of all his toothy, leg-splitting tricks.  Basically, it was a song that could have been recorded quickly without a lot of expensive rehearsal.

Sharon Lawrence, a journalist, publicist and confidante of Hendrix throughout his career, wrote one of the better Hendrix books in 2005 - Jimi Hendrix: The Man, The Magic, The Truth - which has a passage surrounding this important Paris show:

He began to stroll down the boulevard des Capucines, making a point of noticing the names on street signs so he could retrace his steps; as his landmark he just focused on the impressive Paris Opera.  "I wanted so badly to sneak inside that building that looks like the tallest, most elegant birthday cake anyone ever created, all gold on top.  I wondered if they ever allowed guitar players on the stage.

This is what he had yearned for - the Big Time.  Lucille's baby boy Johnny in Paris, France of all places.  Unlike his mother, he had pulled off his escape from a life that offered little.  Hendrix said of this day in October 1966, of his excitement and his terror, "Even me, with my big imagination, had never imagined any place so beautiful - a city with so much history that I wanted to know every single thing about what had happened there, the kings and queens and rebellions and how they built the city and what kind of people had lived there in the past.  I wished that I could stop time and explore all those fantastic building for weeks."

It was cold and overcast; Jimi shivered in his cheap jacket.  He kept walking.  "For just a tiny minute, the grey disappeared as though I'd snapped my fingers.  The next time I looked up, there was a graceful tower rising into a heaven-blue sky.  I'll never forget that.  It had to be magic, it happened so quickly.  I'd seen pictures of the Eiffel Tower before, but I didn't understand that it was art."

He saw and was impressed by tall, ancient lampposts "decorated with a touch of gold.  I wanted to get closer, so I walked right across the river on this old bridge, just grooving away.  And then, when I turned around to head back, in the distance were crystal fountains filled with light.  I loved every single thing about this city.  The hustle and bustle.  The traffic and all those horns squawking and squealing.  The smell of fresh roses in the air.... that slightly funky fragrance that turned out to be chestnuts roasting in cauldrons right there on the street corners.... tobacco and taxi fumes.  What I thought then, what I told myself, was 'Finally, something's the way it's supposed to be.'"

Photographer Jean-Pierre Leloir captured the performance: "He was like a butterfly on that stage."



(Every single video on Youtube claiming to be from this Paris show is not what it claims to be.)
 

Last edited by Jinnistan (8/09/2022 8:38 pm)

After forking over the expenses for top shelf Marshall amp stacks (the vanguard for the heaviest guitar acts like Cream, The Who, The Yardbirds, Small Faces and Jeff Beck) and the flashiest Chelsea/King's Road frippery, Chas Chandler had to initially go cheap with the recording facilities.  At least for a single or two, until some money started coming in.  De Lane Lea Studios was primarily used for quickly recording demos and other for-hire work, for British musicians is was a starting level studio or an adequete alternative if all of the other studios happened to be booked.  It's the perfect venue to test a fresh band to see how well they can actually work together in such an environment.

The studio proved to be a bit too small for Jimi's amp stacks however.  But for the first couple of months, from late October '66 through January 1967, it was the best he had to work with.  The first single, "Hey Joe"/"Stone Free", had fairly simple recordings that didn't demand too much finesse.  "Joe" did have those over-reverberated backing singers, a magnificent overdubbed guitar solo in full Hendrix glory, and a striking vocal from the comparatively unconfident singer.  Destined to be a classic, but "Stone Free" in many ways was a better summation of his vision of purpose.  "Can You See Me" could almost have been as bold, but only the relative lack of recording sophistication holds it back.  Of all of the other songs being worked on and recorded, these three as well as "51st Anniversary" and "Remember" were the only ones finished at De Lane Lea, and not improved or touched up at a better studio.  Arguably, the latter two are the weakest of the batch, and this may also be why they were deprioritized when the time came to format the American release. 

The better studio happened to be Olympic Studios, one of the premier London studios, and the one preferred by The Rolling Stones (Godard's One Plus One was filmed there) amongst others.  The facilities and acoustics were leagues beyond the rinky-dink De Lane Lea, better tape, better mics and, more importantly, an expert engineer in Eddie Kramer who would become Hendrix's most crucial collaborator in capturing his sonic imagination on record (an aspect of his genius that still gets overlooked in lieu of his more raw and magnetic guitar playing and stage presence).  Here, Hendrix had the tools and the skill to push the envelope, and with Kramer at the mixing console they were able to transcend the simple act of capturing a band playing in a room into something more ethereal.  Perhaps the crowning achievements of these efforts are the varispeed swirl of "Third Stone From the Sun", the rich tonal textures of "May This Be Love", and, most impressively, the psychedelic tour de force "Are You Experienced?", the most radical integration of backward tape recording up to that point (and the most successful ever).  The legend is that Hendrix had the ability to work out the solo in reverse in his head, and he would repeat the trick on "Castles Made of Sand".




Are You Experienced? is an undisputed classic in its own right.  Among the available session tapes, there's a number of outtakes which don't have enough variation to make them of much interest to anyone outside the (me) dedicated obsessed, but there are a couple of exceptions.  One example of Hendrix's economic innovation, a cursory view of the raw multitrack tape for "I Don't Live Today" (largely recorded at De Lane Lea, but touched up at Olympic) is a good illustration of his ability to create a soundscape with simple four track recording.  The 16 minute tape has all of the recorded takes, and once he has a satisfactory take, adds overdubbed guitar on one track (with manual "wah wah" effects, months before he acquired an actual pedal) and his vocal on the other.  With some clever mixing, it became an apocalyptic tornado.  (Not on Youtube, but worth seeking out.)

Of the unreleased material, there's sparse interest in "La Poupee Qui Fait Non" (unreleased), a trifling cover of a French pop hit of the day; "Track #3" (JHE box), a quick burst of something; and, most intriguingly, "12 Bar With Horns", a ten minute jam that shows Jimi trying out a broader arrangement for the first time in London.  The latter is only available as the B-side of a Dagger Records-only single release for the WCSB outtake version of "Love and Confusion".  Naturally the only one available on Youtube is the most boring.




And there's also the more mythic, legendary stuff that has been reported and rumored but no one seems to have heard.  "Gypsy Blood" (there is a track by that name from 1969, so this could be a simple matter of confusion on someone's part), "Teddy Bears Live Forever", "First Look Around the Corner", "Fluffy Turkeys" (with members of The Soft Machine), and studio attempts at "Like a Rolling Stone", "Killing Floor" and "Land of 1000 Dances".  Whether any of those tapes show up, or whether they ever existed, is up for anyone's guess.

Last edited by Jinnistan (8/10/2022 12:43 am)

Jinnistan wrote:

"Fluffy Turkeys" (with members of The Soft Machine)

There's a couple of examples for how these kinds of myths get started.  For a long time, it was also rumored that Hendrix played on Soft machine's debut B-Side, "Feeling Reeling Squeeling".  That's been pretty well debunked since, even though Hendrix was friends with the group, jammed with them, attended some sessions, etc.  There are other recordings, but that's in due time.

Another example would be John Mayall, who in an interview once claimed that in early 1967 Hendrix played on a track called "The Lesson" from his Diary of a Band LP.  This is genuinely accepted as confusion by Jimi experts, because Mayall was wrong about the date of the recording (it was Nov. 67), the style of the recording (it was uptempo, not slow blues), and Mayall's guitarist Mick Taylor seemed pretty confident that he played on the track (which happens to sound a lot like Mick Taylor).

So how do these happen?  Drugs, I'm sure.  The dulling of time.  Maybe some motivated reinforcement.  Not fabrications, but conflations of different hazy memories.  All of this makes the archivist's work more complicated.

Urgh, I hate Youtube and their deceptive labeling.  Anyway these are the actual shows from the German Beat Club, filmed at Marquee Club March 3 '67, now that I've compared and matched them to the audio files.






 

Last edited by Jinnistan (8/10/2022 11:41 pm)

Rampop II wrote:

Having seen/heard precious few fragments of Jimi speaking in his own words

Really?  I have a few that are in the 10-30 minute range.  I wasn't thinking of posting any here, but why not?



 

Jinnistan wrote:

Rampop II wrote:

Having seen/heard precious few fragments of Jimi speaking in his own words

Really?  I have a few that are in the 10-30 minute range.  I wasn't thinking of posting any here, but why not?


 

Thank you 

Jinnistan wrote:

Rampop II wrote:

Having seen/heard precious few fragments of Jimi speaking in his own words

Really?  I have a few that are in the 10-30 minute range.  I wasn't thinking of posting any here, but why not?


 

I'm grateful to be hearing Jimi speaking at length. But there's still something particularly special about the Sharon Lawrence excerpt in that it has Jimi talking about something other than things directly related to being a professional musician (eg songwriting, touring, the blues, etc). This interview does dip briefly into some philosophical thoughts on changing society and whatnot, but before long comes back around to tying them to the music and the music profession. The Sharon Lawrence bit has Jimi talking on an entirely different topic altogether, and even on what feels like an entirely different level, in describing his first time traveling to a new country, recalling in beautifully vivid detail his own experience of what travelers often refer to as the "honeymoon phase," the initial euphoria of being immersed in an entirely new place and culture, enamored with and captivated by all the countless details (the smell of chestnuts, the gold–topped street lamps). It's like we're hearing from Jimi the fledgeling world traveler as opposed to Jimi the musician. He conveys a wide–eyed sense of wonderment that contrasts with the authoritative (in the sense of talking from a position of expertise) way he responds to questions pertaining to his profession. And the cherry on top of the morsel of insight from the Lawrence excerpt is a taste of something deeply personal in that last part, "Finally, something's the way it's supposed to be." 

As I awkwardly introduced above, On March 3 (or maybe 2), the band recorded live TV recordings for German TV, filmed at London's Marquee Club.  They filmed two takes of each, and I believe that the "Hey Joe" I posted was the rehearsal, not aired, take.  After this, the Experience ventured out onto their first tour of Germany and the Lowlands.  Except for the prerecorded clips above, none of the half dozen TV appearances they would make on this tour were live, most of them being completely mimed, and a couple with newly recorded vocals.

One radio show in Germany was broadcast, recorded on March 18, which has long been available as a bootleg under the name The Legendary Star Club Tapes.  Which is horseshit, intended to capitalize on the similarly named Beatles recordings unearthed and released in the late 70s.  Like the Beatles though, this recording was mad ein Hamburg (keeping it in) while the JHE was performing a three-night stint at the Star Club, but this show was taped in-studio at a possibly more appropriately named, NDR Funkhaus, and aired on the radio show Twenclub.  The brief set - Foxy Lady, Hey Joe, Stone Free, Fire, Purple Haze - represents the earliest live version of "Fire".




On arriving back in London, on March 28, Hendrix taped another Saturday Club for the BBC - Fire, Purple Haze, Killing Floor.  (BBC Sessions)

On April 1st, Hendrix filmed part of a show - Purple Haze, Wild Thing -  in Ipswich, Suffolk (while on tour with the likes of Englebert Humperdink and Cat Stevens) that was broadcast on French TV later in May.  This is known for being one of the first, and only, shows where Jimi destroys his guitar, probably more out of frustration than showmanship.




Finally, here's an appearance on BBC2's Late Night Line Up from April 17.  I'm adding an earlier part of the show to give an idea of the overall attention then being given to the emerging psychedelic culture (asking the question "What's a Happening?").  It was long rumored that this tape had suffered water damage, but it appears to be a deliberate effect.  This is the debut live performance of "Manic Depression" and only one of a few they would ever perform.






 

Last edited by Jinnistan (8/13/2022 10:56 pm)

The NME (New Musical Express) reported that Chas Chandler had informed them that he had recorded a live Hendrix concert, reportedly May 7th at the Saville Theater, for an EP set to be released sometime in the summer of '67.  This obviously never materialized, and no tapes have ever surfaced if the show had been recorded at all.

As some of the above videos show, it's amazing what the difference even a couple of months make.  By May, in the clips from their European tour, the Experience looks exponentially polished compared to their initial BBC appearances.  Here's some extra clips to round out their May 11 French TV and May 18 German TV appearances:








Hendrix moved on to Sweden, Denmark and Finland, before travelling back to tape a TV appearance on Sweden's Popside on May 24th.  I also have a not-bad audience tape from a later show at Tivoli Gardens later that evening.








Back in London, on June 4th, Hendrix had one of his most legendary shows, again at Saville Theater, where he chose to open the show with "Sgt. Pepper", three days after that record was released, mightily impressing The Beatles, in attendance, and which Paul McCartney would name as one of his favorite compliments.  Sadly, there has been no recordings of this show to emerge, although it is stated, from Black Gold, "at least one collector is known to have a copy of film footage".  It better not be McCartney, that's all I'm saying.  I will shit a brick and toss it through his window.  It's also been said that Bill Wyman has color footage of a Dec. '66 Hendrix show from Southampton, the stingy motherfucker.




I hate this goddamn movie.  For those unawares, this is a 2013 biopic of Hendrix by John Ridley (who would end up winning the Oscar the same year for his script for 12 Years a Slave).  The problem with it is mostly that it only covers a brief era of Hendrix's life, namely everything I've just posted up until now, from Greenwich Village to his London arrival and climaxing with the above Saville Theater show.  Why is that a problem?  Well, dramatically, it doesn't feature a lot in the way of conflict.  In fact, inarguably, these 9 months or so represent Hendrix's happiest and most successful, one (relatively) short arc to international acclaim.  This limitation is further compounded by the fact that Ridley was unable to use any actual Hendrix music, virtually amputating any semblence of his musical genius beyond the standard material of "Hey Joe", "Killing Floor" and "Wild Thing", material which, you may have noticed, encompasses the earliest music he had already arrived in London with and which he had vastly exceeded by June 1967.

So in addition to basically denying Hendrix's greatness as both a visionary studio artist and songwriter (or in other words those things which make Hendrix an artist worth considering and appreciating), and in lieu of any particular personal or material conflict (at a time when money, women and drugs were not yet burdens to overcome), the film decides to then fabricate an elaborate racial conflict between this uppity Jimi and the snobby British rock royalty.  And that isn't based on a single biographical source because it's hogwash, and completely counter to the fact that Hendrix was eagerly accepted and adopted by the upper eschelons of British musicans and the press from the very beginning.  And I guess you can't make an entire movie about whatever hassles he happened to get from the random 'bobbie' on the street who didn't like the look of him.  So this last Saville Theater show, before he made his way to Monterey, is depicted as some kind of triumph against British snobbish prejudice, with McCartney looking oh so concerned when he initially recognizes his song in this coloured guitar, only to finally be won over by the sheer brilliance.  As opposed to the reality, which is that by this point in time, McCartney had already told the Monterey organizers that there was no point in having a festival for the brightest new music without Hendrix on the bill.  The movie's dishonesty, because it literally has no other stone with which to spark than racism, is almost enough to place it at the bottom of the technically worse and lazier biopics of Hendrix that have also been attempted (and take note: none of them could use his actual music either....hmmm...).
 

Last edited by Jinnistan (8/22/2022 2:26 pm)

crumbsroom wrote:

It would never even occur to me to watch that Hendrix film. The fact that it sounds even worse than I had imagined says something.

It is my curse to shelter you all from shit.