Starting At Zero Page 4

  POSTCARD TO AL HENDRIX, NOVEMBER 1966:

  Dear Dad,

  Well … Although I lost the address, I feel I must write before I get too far away. We’re in Munich, Germany, now. We just left Paris and Nancy, France. We’re playing around London now. That’s where I’m staying these days. I have my own group and will have a record out in about 2 months named ‘Hey Joe’. By the Jimi Hendrix Experience. I hope you get this card. I’ll write a decent letter. I think things are going a little better.

  Your loving Son, Jimi.

  {DECEMBER 16, 1966, FIRST SINGLE RELEASED IN THE U.K.}

  We all dug Hey Joe as a number, so we put it down on record. While we were working on it I don’t think we played it the same way twice. Lots of people have done different arrangements of it, and Timmy Rose was the first to do it slowly. I like it played slowly. There are probably 1,000 versions of it fast, by the Byrds, Standells, Love and others.

  It was the first time I ever tried to sing on a record. I was too scared to sing. Chas made me sing serious. I just wish I could sing really nice, but I know I can’t. I just feel the words out. I try all night to hit a pretty note, but I’m more like an entertainer and performer than a singer. Guitar is the basic thing for me. Voice is just another way of getting across what I’m doing musically.

  {FEBRUARY 1967, HEY JOE REACHED #4 IN THE U.K. CHARTS.}

  Hey Joe is really a blues arrangement of a cowboy song. It isn’t quite a commercial song, so I’m surprised that it got so high in the hit parade. I’m just wondering how people are going to take the next one, because it’s so different. They’d picked out Love Or Confusion to be our next single, but I had this thing on my mind about a dream I had that I was walking under the sea. It’s linked to a story I read in a science fiction magazine about a purple death ray. It’s called Purple Haze – excuse me!

  PURPLE HAZE ALL IN MY BRAIN,

  LATELY THINGS DON’T SEEM THE SAME,

  ACTIN’ FUNNY, BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY,

  ’SCUSE ME WHILE I KISS THE SKY.

  PURPLE HAZE ALL AROUND,

  DON’T KNOW IF I’M COMING UP OR DOWN.

  AM I HAPPY OR IN MISERY?

  WHATEVER IT IS, THAT GIRL PUT

  A SPELL ON ME!

  PURPLE HAZE ALL IN MY EYES,

  DON’T KNOW IF IT’S DAY OR NIGHT.

  YOU’VE GOT ME BLOWING, BLOWIN’ MY MIND.

  IS IT TOMORROW OR JUST THE END

  OF TIME?

  It’s about this guy who doesn’t know which way he’s going. This girl turned this cat on, and he doesn’t know if it’s bad or good – that’s all. It could be stuff like going into different strange areas like most curious people do. It’s nothing to do with drugs. The key to the meaning of the song lies in the line “that girl put a spell on me.” The song progresses from there.

  We really had a funny time last night.

  I met this girl and she was really outasight.

  I said, baby, what you doin’?

  She said, “Well, you know, I’m alright. How are you?”

  I said, well, everything’s the old thing, just a big drag.

  I was just wonderin’, what’s that you got in that little sack there?

  She said, “This?”

  And she opened it up and it went like this … [feedback].

  I said WHEW! Close it! Close it! Baby, look out!

  She put her little thumb in. So I stuck my fingers in and

  {RELEASED IN MARCH 1967, PURPLE HAZE ENTERED THE U.K. CHARTS IN SIX DAYS AND REACHED #3.}

  I would under no circumstances call my music psychedelic. We had guys ten years ago in the States playing what they’re now calling psychedelic. You hear these cats saying, “Look at the band, they’re playing psychedelic music,” and all they’re really doing is flashing lights on them and playing Johnny B. Goode with the wrong chords.

  The ones who call themselves that are so bad. I’d hate to go on a trip and hear all that noise. Freak-out, psychedelic and so on, that’s all pretty limited. I don’t want anybody to stick a psychedelic label around my neck. Sooner Bach and Beethoven. Don’t misunderstand me, I love Bach and Beethoven. I have many records by them, also by Gustav Mahler.

  On the whole I think it’s a mistake to try to divide different kinds of music into small categories. There really doesn’t have to be any specific name for different kinds of music. The name of the band is good enough, isn’t it? You might hear one little thing and say, “Hey, that’s kind of nice,” but our music’s like that jar of candy over there. Everything’s all mixed up. It’s a mixture of rock, blues and jazz, a music that’s still developing, that’s just now coming, a music of the future. If it must be a tag, I’d like it to be called “Free Feeling.” It’s a mixture of rock, freak-out, blues and rave music. My rock-blues-funky-freaky sound.

  I was influenced by everything at the same time – Muddy Waters, Jimmy Reed, Chet Atkins, B.B. King. I dug Howlin’ Wolf and Elmore James, but I was into other stuff too – Ritchie Valens, Eddie Cochran and Summertime Blues. And you could also say that I was influenced by Bob Dylan and Brian Jones. I listen to everything, from Bach to the Beatles. See, a mixture of those things, and hearing those things at the same time, which way do you go?

  I was digging them for themselves, not for what I could get from them or wishing I could be like that. I’m not copying what I heard before. Like when you’re a baby, you’re used to one little thing, not using it but just used to it, sucking on it until you grow up, and then you don’t think about it anymore. You’ve got to dig everything and then get your own ideas. Too much digging and not enough doing will set you spinning.

  A LOT OF THE PEOPLE I listen to now are British. It’s almost like being in the States! I don’t believe they can sound exactly like the American cats, but a few do. Stevie Winwood and Spencer Davis come about the closest to really having that feeling. And Tom Jones! Why? I guess they get tired of hearing all those Herman’s Hermits records. If they can really dig a cat like Ray Charles, who’s one of the all-time greats when you’re talking of soul, it isn’t too surprising when they come up with that soulful feeling. It just shows that they’re really listening.

  You’re a Sagittarian?

  Constantly. Twenty-seventh.

  Personal points?

  5 feet 11 inches; 11 stone 5 pounds; dark brown eyes – black sometimes; dark brown hair.

  Origin of stage name?

  88 percent from my birth certificate, 12 percent from misspelling.

  Any pets?

  My two little furry-minded guitars.

  Favorite food and drinks?

  Spaghetti, strawberry shortcake with whipped cream and banana cream pie. I like typical soul food too – greens and rice.

  English food?

  Oh god! man. See, English food, it’s difficult to explain. You get mashed potatoes with just about everything, and I ain’t gonna say anything good about that!

  What do you think of London?

  It’s a different kind of atmosphere here. People are more mild-mannered. I like all the little streets and the boutiques. It’s like a kind of fairyland. But you know what really turns me on about London? Just watching the girls go by. It’s a fantastic city for girl-watchers. They’re all so beautiful and so many different nationalities.

  Do you smoke?

  If I didn’t smoke I’d be fat as a pig. My nerves are very bad. I like tipped cigarettes mostly, alternating with menthol ones – about a pack over a day and a half.

  Do you have any hobbies?

  I like to watch the lightning. Especially on the fields and flowers when I’m on my own. I read a lot of science fiction. And I love reading fairy tales, like Hans Christian Andersen, and Winnie-the-Pooh.

  What don’t you like?

  I don’t like ordinary things or people with very neat eyebrows who look very neat.

  What kind of person are you?

  I’m a little bit quiet, a little closed. Most of the time I don’t talk so much. What I h
ave to say I say with my guitar.

  Immediate plans?

  I want to stay in England. In the States I was always playing behind other people, and I found it difficult to contain myself. It’s much better now I have my own group. I understand there won’t be any difficulty getting work permits and so on as long as I’m a good little boy.

  How important is your music to you?

  For us it’s very important. If we stop playing we have no money to buy food with.

  Professional ambition?

  I want to be the first man to write about the blues scene on Venus.

  Personal ambition?

  To see my mother and family again.

  How long since you’ve been home?

  About seven years. I don’t even know my six-year-old sister. I just called my dad once when I came to England to let him know I’d reached something.

  What did he say?

  He asked me who I had robbed to get the money to go to England. Actually, I’m scared to go home. My father is a very strict man. He would straight away grab hold of me, tear my clothes off and cut my hair! I’d like to have enough money to send home to my father. One day I’m going to build him a house. Just to tease him a little bit, and because he paid for my first guitar.

  Why do you wear your hair like that?

  I think maybe because my dad used to cut it all the time when I was a kid, and I used to go to school looking like a plucked chicken. Maybe that gave me a complex.

  Do you comb your hair?

  No, I use a brush. A comb would get stuck. A girl asked me if she could comb my hair. NOBODY can comb my hair. I can’t even comb my hair. But I think this hairstyle is groovy. A mod Shirley Temple. A frizzy permanent. Anyway, it’s better than having dull, straight hair. The strands, you see, are vibrations. If your hair is straight and pointing to the ground you don’t get many vibrations. This way, though, I’ve got vibrations shooting out all ways.

  Why is it necessary to be dressed peculiarly?

  Well, I don’t consider it actually necessary. This is the way I like to dress and look, off stage and on. I like shades of color that clash. I always wanted to be a cowboy, or Hadji Baba, or the Prisoner of Zenda. Before I go onstage my road manager says to me, “Jimi, you scruffy looking git, you’re not going on looking like that tonight, are you?” And I say, “As soon as I’ve put out this cigarette – I’m fully dressed.” I feel comfortable like this.

  Where is fashion going?

  I don’t know, and I don’t care, really. Maybe people will wear different colored sheets, like in the olden days. And don’t ask me those silly questions about whether I wear underwear. I swear you should have gotten someone else for this interview.

  PEOPLE ASK ME whether I dress and do my hair like this just for effect, but it’s not true. This is me. I don’t like to be misunderstood by anything or anybody, so if I want to wear a red bandanna and turquoise slacks and if I want hair down to my ankles, well, that’s me. All those photographs you might have seen of me in a tuxedo and a bow tie playing in Wilson Pickett’s backing group were me when I was shy, scared and afraid to be myself. I had my hair slicked back and my mind combed out.

  The jacket I’m wearing now is Royal Army Veterinary Corps, 1898 I believe. Very good year for uniforms. The other night I was about half a block away from the Cromwellian Club, wearing this gear. Up comes this wagon with a blue light flashing, and about five or six policemen jump out at me. They look into my face real close and severe. Then one of them points to my jacket and says, “That’s British, isn’t it?” So I said, “Yeah, I think it is.” And they frowned and all that bit, and they said, “You’re not supposed to be wearing that. Men fought and died in that uniform.” The guy’s eyes were so bad he couldn’t read the little print on the badges.

  So I said, “What, in the Veterinary Corps? Anyway, I like uniforms. I wore one long enough in the United States Army.” They said, “What? You trying to get smart with us? Show us your passport.” So we did all that bit too. I had to convince them that my accent was really American. Then they asked me what group I was with, and I said the Experience. So they made fun of that as well and made cracks about roving minstrels. After they made a few more funnies and when they’d finally got their kicks, they said they didn’t want to see me with the gear on anymore, and they let me go. Just as I was walking away one of them said, “Hey, you said you’re with the Experience. What are you experiencing?” I said, “Harassment” and took off as quick as I could.

  People take us strange ways, but I don’t care how they take us. Man, we’ll be moving, because in this life you’ve got to do what you want. You’ve got to let your mind and fancy flow, flow free.

  WHITE COLLARED CONSERVATIVE FLASHING

  DOWN THE STREET,

  POINTING THEIR PLASTIC FINGER AT ME.

  THEY’RE HOPING SOON MY KIND WILL DROP AND DIE,

  BUT I’M GONNA WAVE MY FREAK FLAG HIGH, HIGH.

  WOW! WAVE ON, WAVE ON.

  FALL MOUNTAINS, JUST DON’T FALL ON ME.

  GO AHEAD ON MR. BUSINESSMAN, YOU CAN’T DRESS LIKE ME.

  Do you know my biggest problem? I just can’t look straight into a camera and smile if I don’t feel like smiling. I just can’t do it. It’s like being told to be happy to order! Anyway, the photographers always try to make me look so evil. All the photos I had done for publicity to begin with were picked because I looked so grim. We threw away all the smiley-smiley shots and kept the horrors. That made me a kind of monster. Honestly, I don’t know why the people want to see me as a horror type. They’d love it if I’d look like a cannibal! But I guess it was necessary to get that visual thing going before we could make people listen.

  {BY THE END OF MARCH 1967, THE HENDRIX EXPERIENCE HAD GIVEN OVER EIGHTY PERFORMANCES IN THE U.K., FRANCE AND HOLLAND. THE BRITISH TABLOIDS HAD DUBBED HENDRIX “THE WILD MAN OF POP.”}

  Some people ask what on earth am I? Are we being invaded? But the comments don’t bother me. I used to listen to what people said, go away and lie in bed and worry about it. But you can’t worry yourself about that. It’s just conventional people wanting the whole world to be conventional with them. We set out to be a trip, that’s the reason we are like this. We really want to freak them out when we play.

  We play very, very loud. We play loud to create a certain effect, to make it all as physical as possible, so it goes right through you. It should hurt. We were in Holland doing a TV show, and the equipment was the best ever. They said play as loud as you like, and we were really grooving when this little fairy comes running in and yells, “Stop! Stop!

  The ceiling in the studio below is falling down!”

  And it was too, plaster and all! I like to play loud. I always did like to play loud.

  I get accused of being electrically hung up, but I like electric sounds, feedback and so forth. Static. People make sounds when they clap, so we make sounds back. Musically, “freak-out” is almost like playing wrong notes. It’s playing the opposite notes to what you think the notes should be. If you hit it right, with the right amount of feedback, it can come up very nice. It’s like playing the wrong notes seriously, dig? It’s a lot of fun.

  We don’t use gimmicks for their own sake. What happens on stage is what I do myself. I mean, when I’m moving around out there I’m just squeezing that little bit more out of my guitar. Sometimes I jump on the guitar, sometimes I grind the strings up against the frets. The more it grinds, the more it whines. Sometimes I rub up against the amplifier, sometimes I sit on it, sometimes I play with my teeth, or I’ll be playing along and I’ll feel like playing with my elbow. I can’t remember all the things I do. It’s just the way I play. I’d die of boredom if I didn’t put everything into it.

  The one thing I really hate is miming. It’s so phoney. I was asked to mime at a Radio London appearance, and I felt guilty just standing there holding a guitar. I can’t feel the music when it’s like that. You can’t expect me to play guitar with my teeth when there is a recordi
ng going on in the background. That’s crazy.

  When you play with your teeth you have to know what you are doing or you might hurt yourself. Everywhere I go they tell me about one group who got up like us, and the fella tried to play the guitar with his teeth and his teeth fell out all over the stage. “That’s what you get for not brushing your teeth,” I tell them. I’ve never broken anything playing, but I was thinking once, for a freak-out of course, of putting bits of paper in my mouth before the show and then spitting them out like all my teeth were dropping out!

  A LOT OF PEOPLE THINK what I do with my guitar is vulgar. I don’t think it’s vulgar. Perhaps it’s sexy, but what music with a big beat isn’t? Music is such a personal expression it’s bound to project sex. What is so wrong about that? Is it so shameful? Is it any more shameful than some of the erotic adverts you see in the papers or on television? The world revolves around sex. Music should be matched with human emotions, and if you can tell me a more human one than sex, then you’ve got me fooled. Those who think we are filthy are the same people who don’t want to let Joan Baez sing her anti-war songs publicly.

  I play and move as I feel. It’s not an act but a state of being. My music, my instrument, my sound, my body are all one action with my mind. It’s like a contact high between the music and me. The actual music is like a fast, lingering high. It might be sex or love to certain people in the audience, but to me it just gets me stoned out of my mind. If they think our show is sexy, that’s nice, and if the show gives them other feelings, that’s just as good. If my music makes them feel free to do what they think best for themselves, that is a step ahead.

  As long as they’re not passive.

  {MARCH 31, 1967, THE JIMI HENDRIX EXPERIENCE JOINED THE WALKER BROTHERS’ TOUR.}

  The first night of the Walker Brothers’ tour was when I started to worry. I knew where it was at when it came to specialist blues scenes, but this was in front of audiences who had come to see the Walker Brothers, Engelbert Humperdinck and Cat Stevens. All the sweet people follow us on the bill, so we have to make it hot for them. We have to hit ’em and hit ’em good.