It's November 27th again, and you know what that means.
He was born 75 years ago in Seattle. He only lived to be 27. He surely crammed the waking hours of his last four years with 75 years worth of living.
He lived as a virtual prisoner of his evil, likely-British-Intelligence-connected manager, who was killed in a mysterious plane crash soon after under suspicious circumstances.
He died of sleep deprivation; the drugs were only a symptom of what the suits were putting him through.
At Woodstock -- where he provided the acknowledged highlight of the festival and the 1960s' most iconic moment as he tore up the National Anthem of his country -- he had been awake for more than three days before going onstage.
I mean, how many people unintentionally OD on sleep medication, anyway? He was so destroyed by the time of his demise, it was as if he had taken the saying "I'll sleep when I'm dead" to literal proportions.
But he didn't die. Or rather, only his body did.
Instead, he has become, in a very real and powerful way, the essence of the idea taught by Jesus Christ 2000+ years ago and argued/warred over ever since: Eternal Life.
If you ask me, the religionists and Amygdalan fearmongers have got it all wrong. There's no Heavenly paradise awaiting us when we depart: the aspect of us that can never die forms in what we leave our fellows and future humans in terms of substantive and enlightening works and deeds.
No one you could name made that idea real in the manner that today's big birthday boy did. No one in human history that we know about achieved it in as short and fleeting a time in the physical realm.
With so much of the entire racial history of his native land wrapped up in his DNA, he managed to ascend to supreme cultural icon status and transcend previously implacable barriers during his all-too-brief time alive. He is in no danger of losing that status. He never will be.
He is considered the single greatest instrumentalist in the history of Rock music, whose influence and shadow will be cast over all music in any genre like a looming psychedelic cloud of the impossible, forever.
There simply is no one else you could name that, 47 years gone, still holds such a tremendous sway over his artistic field. None. All subsequent guitar players, and all subsequent musicians really, owe him a debt that can't even be estimated, no less repaid.
There is not much else to say. Today would have been the 75th birthday of James Marshall Hendrix, as iconic a figure in the history of human culture as has ever existed, exists, or will exist. Period.
Jimi Hendrix Experience
Swedish broadcasts, 1967-69
I.
Konserthuset
Stockholm, Sweden
9.5.1967
01 Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
02 Fire
03 The Wind Cries Mary
04 Foxy Lady
05 Hey Joe
06 I Don't Live Today
07 Burning of the Midnight Lamp
08 Purple Haze
09 JHE interview 9.5.1967
Total time: 35:08
Jimi Hendrix - guitar & vocals
Noel Redding - bass & vocals
Mitch Mitchell - drums
pre-FM reel of the original broadcast, sourced from a bootleg box of JHE Scandinavian shows.
II.
Konserthuset
Stockholm, Sweden
1.9.1969
late show
01 I Don't Live Today
02 Spanish Castle Magic
03 Hey Joe
04 Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)
05 Sunshine of Your Love
06 Red House
07 Fire
08 Purple Haze
09 The Star Spangled Banner
Total time: 1:09:20
Jimi Hendrix - guitar & vocals
Noel Redding - bass & vocals
Mitch Mitchell - drums
pre-FM or soundboard reels, sourced from the boot CD "On the Killing Floor" on the legendary Swingin' Pig label
both shows zipped together
643 MB FLAC/November 2017 archive link
I chose these two Swedish meatballs because they circulate a bit less than the more common classics like Royal Albert Hall 1969 and whatnot, and because they fucking burn with the fire of a thousand suns. Anyway, you know what to click, I'll say nothing else but Happy Birthday Jimi, and thank you for your sacrifice.--J.
11.27.1942 - 9.18.1970