Sharon20lawrence20-20Jimi20hendrix20the20man2c20the20magic2c20the20truth

Jimi Hendrix THE MAGIC, THE MAN, THE TRUTH SHARON LAWRENCE Technically, I’m not a guitar player.AllIplayistruthandemotion. —JIMI H ENDRIX Contents Prologue.....v PART ONE: A BOY-CHILD COMIN’ ONE......Johnny/Jimmy.....3 TWO.....Don’tLookBack.....9 THREE.....FlyingHigh.....21 FOUR.....TheStruggle.....27 PART TWO: LONDON, PARIS, THE WORLD! FIVE.....ThrillingTimes.....47 SIX.....“TheBestYearofMyLife”.....69 SEVEN.....Experienced.....91 EIGHT.....AllAlongtheWatchtower.....119 NINE.....TheTrial.....159 TEN.....Drifting.....175 ELEVEN.....PurpleHaze.....189 TWELVE.....InsidetheDangerZone.....207 Coda.....217 Contents PART THREE: THE REINVENTION OF JIMI HENDRIX INTRODUCTION.....229 THIRTEEN.....1971–1989:TheNewRegime.....231 FOURTEEN.....1990–1999:ASeriesofShowdowns.....247 FIFTEEN.....2000–2004:Wealth,Power,and ReflectedGlory.....271 PART FOUR: THE TRUE LEGACY.....319 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.....337 ABOUT THE AUTHOR CREDITS COVER COPYRIGHT ABOUT THE PUBLISHER IV PROLOGUE F EBRUARY 9,1968 Iobservedtheextravagantaureoleofcarefullyteasedblackhair.The face,withitsluminousbrowneyeslookingdirectlyatme,wasgentle. His handshake was firm. He smiled warmly, respectfully even, and saidinalow,whisperyvoice,“Thanksforcomingouttonight.” SothiswasJimiHendrix.TheexoticphotographsI’dseeninthe English music papers offered a somewhat terrifying image. On this night,though,Imetashy,politehumanbeing. “Sharon,”LesliePerrin hadsaidon thetelephone,“I’vejustar- rivedfromLondon,andI’dliketointroduceyoutoJimiHendrix.He’s veryspecial.Andhe’splayingnearDisneylandtonight!” ForyearsLesliePerrinhadbeenafigureinLondonpressandmu- sic circles, jovial but shrewd, a stout, chain-smoking, middle-aged public relations expert whose clients ranged from Frank Sinatra to the Rolling Stones. Now he’d added the Jimi Hendrix Experience to his clientroster.The motto inscribedon his letterheadreadRING ME ANYTIME—DAY OR NIGHT. Prologue “Thatwouldbenice, Les, butcould wedo itanother time? I’d love to see you, of course. Maybe for lunch tomorrow? It’s been a tremendously busy week, and I’m not at mybest, and with all this rainthisisn’tagoodnight.”Imetandinterviewedcelebrities,par- ticularlymajorfilmstars,everydayinmyjobasafledglingreporter intheLosAngelesbureauofUnitedPressInternational,thenapow- erful news organization. Les sounded disappointed, and I felt ashamedofmyselfasI caught on—Perrinwasonunfamiliarturfin L.A.,dismayedbythesuddendownpourinsunnyCalifornia,andhe neededaride.IwasalsorememberingthatLeswasagreatpalofnu- merousjournalistfriendsofmineinLondonandthathe’dbeenkind andhospitabletomeonarecentvisittoEngland.“WhereshallIpick youup,Les?” ThisishowImetHendrix,thehottestnewstarontheinterna- tionalmusicscene:because,grudgingly,Iwasdoingafavor. ThetiresofmyblueDodgeDartsquealedontheslick,slippery freewaysaswedrovethethirtymilessoutheastfromLosAngelesto Anaheim in a steady, gloomy rain. We smoked cigarettes as Les amusingly related the latest music news from Swinging London. Fi- nallywezigzaggedourwayoffthefreewayandslowlyturnedintothe driveway of the Anaheim Convention Center. It held seventy-eight hundredpeople,andtheparkinglotwasjammedaswemaneuvered intoaspacenearthebackstageentrance. I tentatively followed Perrin into the crowded dressing room, whereheintroducedmetodrummerMitchMitchellandbassistNoel Redding, two quite adorable and gracious English boys. Wetalked aboutthislatestroundofthe“BritishInvasion”—thetaggiventothe increasingnumberofEnglishbandstouringAmericainthesixties— and the Experience’s recent New York press reception on top of a midtown skyscraper. Everything they said made me laugh, down to thecornyjokesabout“That’swhatIcallgettinghigh!” Lestookmyarmandwesteppedoutsidethedoor,andtherewas Jimi Hendrix, in a deep purple silk crepe shirt, velvet pants, and a black cut-velvet jacket; I had never before seen a pop musician VI Prologue dressedwithsuchsubtleelegance;Hendrixlookedasifheshouldbe invitedtoposeforthecoverofVogue.Hisfaceandhisvoiceappeared shy.“I’vejustbeentuningmyguitar,”hesaid. TenminuteslaterLesPerrin,who’dgoneofftochatwithother musiciansonthe“Invasion”package—whichincludedEireApparent, SoftMachine,EricBurdonandtheAnimalswiththeExperiencehead- lining—returned to smile approvingly as he saw Hendrix and me in animatedconversation.ItoldJimithatIhadalreadyseentheExperi- encesoonaftertheMontereyPopFestival,whenthetrioopenedfor theMamasandPapasattheHollywoodBowl.“Ithoughtitwasfabu- lous the way you came onto the stage playing ‘Sgt. Pepper,’ ” I said. “Theperfectsongtograbthecrowd.” Jimi’seyeslitup;helikedthiscompliment,andheseemedtoun- derstandthatIwassimplysayingwhatIthought.Ilovedmusic,knew music, from Ella Fitzgerald to Tchaikovsky to Ray Charles and the Beatles; my earliest memories involved a home where the record player was alive with wondrous voices and captivating melodies, fromNegrospiritualstoGershwinconcertos.Ihadaboyfriend,Ron, acollegestudentinNewYorkandanavidrecordcollector,whowas crazyaboutthenewpopmusic.Peoplewhodidn’tcareaboutmusic usuallydidn’tinterestme. “MymotherthoughtyourgroupwasterrificattheBowl,”Icon- tinued. “She liked your songs and also your clothes. ‘That boy has beautifultaste,’shesaid.Motherlovesfinefabrics.” Hiseyesopenedwide.“Youtookyourmothertohearus?” “In California,” I explained, “the Hollywood Bowl has always beenafamilyplace,whereyoubringapicnicdinnerandhearmusic underthestars.It’sasummertradition.” Jiminodded.“PleasetellherIappreciatefabrics,too.” IkeptwaitingforHendrixtobringtheconversationtoahalt,but heseemedtobeenjoyinghimself.SoIwenton,“Mymothercollects material,edgings,trimmings;she’swonderfulatsewing.” Jimi seemed delighted to hear this, saying, “If I had a proper place,quitenaturally,I’dbecollectingallthat,too.” VII Prologue “I only collect records,” I said. “I’ve got hundreds of albums. I startedbuyingthemwhenIwasten,andnowoneofthebestthings aboutmyjobisthatI’minvitedtoseejustabouteverymoviemade, andtherecordcompaniessendmefreerecords.” “Theyallmustlikeyoualot!”hesaid. “No,”Isaid.“Ithinkit’smoreaboutwantingpublicity.Iquitcol- legeanddidabitoffinaglingtolandmyjob.Iwasnaïve,Isuppose, because I hadn’t realized until recently that when people give you somethingfree,theyjustaboutalwayswantsomething.” Hendrixgavemeaseriouslook.“Isn’tthatthetruth,”hesaid. Lesrejoinedus,glancingathiswatch.“James,”hesaid,“Ithink you’resupposedtobeonstage.” Hendrixsmiledwarmlyatme.“Seeyouagain!” Ashehurriedtothedressingroom,therewasEricBurdoncom- ingfromtheotherdirection.I’dmethimacoupleoftimesbefore.Ex- uberantly,hegrabbedmyarmandsaid,“Comeon,let’sgooutfront. It’salwayssoexcitin’whenJimiplays.” Erichadjustfinished“warmingup”seventhousandyoungpeo- pleforthefirstoftwoshowsthatnight.Mostoftheaudiencewason theirfeeteagerlywaitingfortheExperience.Undoubtedlyquiteafew ofthesekidshadwitnessedtherivetingdebutoftheJimiHendrixEx- perienceatMontereyPoptheprevioussummer. The minute Hendrix made his entrance, the subdued fellow I’d just met turned into the most lascivious, outrageous, spectacular performer I’d ever seen. His Hollywood Bowl show seemed tame in retrospect.Nowhewasravagingtheguitarwithhisteeth,histongue, playing it behind his back and on the floor, in a brilliant display of showmanship and sound. Although I had seen everyone from the BeatlestotheStonestoBobDylan,Ihadnevergivenmuchconsider- ationtotheguitar.Likemanyotherfansatconcerts,Itendedtocon- centrateontheleadsinger.Buttonightabold,brightlycoloredworld of fresh rhythms and sound was emanating from this white Strato- casterthatHendrixplayedsoeffortlesslyitappearedtobepartofhis body. Yes, I thought, this is important. The mesmerized audience VIII Prologue hardlyseemedtonoticethatthereweretwoother musiciansonstage untilaninspiredbitofdrummingfromMitchMitchellgrabbedthem. ForallthespotlightonHendrix,thiswasatrueensemble;theExperi- ence’splayingwasbothtightandseeminglyspontaneous,arareand invigorating mix. Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell were the all- importantfoundationforJimi;thethreeofthemtogetherknewhow tocreatemagic.Continualripplesofapplausenowhadescalatedinto exhilaratingroarsofapproval.Thecrowdhungoneverynote,onthe soulful,whisperysingingvoice,thequick,shycommentsintothemi- crophone.Ateenageboysittingbehindmesaidtohisfriend,“Hen- drixistalkingtous!” AyearagoI’dassumedthatalltheexcitementabouttheExperi- ence was purely press agentry and hype. Now I understood why all themajorBritishguitarplayerscouldn’tstoptalkingaboutHendrix. Backstageafterhisperformance,Jimirevertedtothesamegen- tle person I’d met two hours before. He struck me as a creature— moreofaspiritthanaperson.Withoutknowingpreciselywhy,Ifelt thatIwasinthepresenceofsomeoneunique. LesPerrinmurmuredsomethingoddaswedrovebacktoHolly- wood: “I hope you’ll get to know Hendrix. He could use a friend.” Meanwhileintherearseatofthecar,big,beefyChasChandler,for- merbassistfortheAnimalsandnowJimi’sco-manager,wasgrinning ashere-countedthe thousandsofdollarsincashhe’dcollectedfor thegig.Therainbeatdownharder,butIdrovefaster.Iwasanervous wreckuntilChandlerputallthatmoneyinthehotelsafe. Ididn’tknowthatLesPerrinhadgivenJimimytelephonenum- ber,soaweeklaterIwassurprisedtohearfrommyansweringservice that “a Mr. Hendrix called to thank you for attending his concert.” He’dleftthenumberathislatesthotel,andwhenIreturnedthecall, hethankedmeagain.Gee,Ithought,Lesmusthavegivenmequitea buildupassomeoneworthknowinginL.A.DidHendrixwanttovisit amoviestudioorwhat?TheothermusiciansIknewfromEnglandal- waysurgedmetoshowthemwhereElvislivedandtakethemtosee the movie-star hand- and footprints at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre IX Prologue onHollywoodBoulevard.Butaswecontinuedourconversation,Jimi

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