![]() ![]() Hendrix didn’t fit because he wasn’t black enough for Harlem, nor white enough for Greenwich Village. The writer Paul Gilroy, in his recent book Darker Than Blue, makes the point that Hendrix’s life and music were propelled by two important factors: his being an “ex-paratrooper who gradually became an advocate of peace” and his “transgressions of redundant musical and racial rules”. But, arriving in New York to try and establish himself in his own right, Hendrix found he did not fit. Hendrix engineered his discharge in time to avoid being mobilised to Vietnam and worked hard as a backing guitarist for Little Richard, Curtis Knight, the Isley Brothers and others. Misses bed check: sleeps while supposed to be working: unsatisfactory duty performance.” His military career was marked by friendship with a bass player called Billy Cox from West Virginia, with whom he would play his last concerts, and a report which read: “Individual is unable to conform to military rules and regulations. When he was 18, he was offered the chance to avoid jail for a minor misdemeanour by joining the army, which he did, training for the 101st Airborne Division. He had always been enthralled by guitar playing – a “natural”, immersed in R&B on the radio and the music of blues giants Albert King and Muddy Waters. He was born to a father who cared, but not greatly, and a mother he barely knew – she died when he was 15 – but adored (she’s said to be the focus of two of his three great ballads, “Little Wing” and “Angel”). When she met Hendrix (the same night he landed in London), he had already lived an interesting, if frustrating, 23 years. I want people to remember the man I knew.” He could be grumpy, and he could be terrible in the studio, getting exactly what he wanted – but he was fun, he was charming. ![]() In a rare interview by telephone, (she has moved abroad), Ms Etchingham explains: “I want him to be remembered for what he was – not this tragic figure he has been turned into by nit-pickers and people who used to stalk us and collect photographs and ‘evidence’ of what we were doing on a certain day. Involved in the discussions is the woman with whom Hendrix furnished the top flat of 23 Brook St, and with whom he lived: the only woman he ever really loved, Kathy Etchingham. ![]() The flat will be opened to the public for 12 days in September and there is talk about plans for a joint museum, adding Hendrix’s presence to that already established in the museum devoted to Handel. The 40th anniversary of Hendrix’s death next month will be marked by the opening of an exhibition of curios and memorabilia at the only place he ever called home – a flat diagonally above that once occupied by the composer George Frideric Handel, on Brook Street in central London, in the double building now known as Handel House. Opinion varies only over the effect his music has on people: elation, fear, sexual stimulation, sublimation, disgust – all or none of these – but always drop-jawed amazement. ![]() During those three years and 362 days living in London, Hendrix had conjured – with his vision and sense of sound, his personality and genius – the most extraordinary guitar music ever played, the most remarkable sound-scape ever created of that there is little argument. ![]()
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