Published on May 15, 1997
When it comes to looking at the career of rock guitarist Jimi
Hendrix, there are two schools of thought. The first is that every
note Hendrix ever played is solid gold, and is to be admired and
worshipped. The other school claims that while Hendrix was one of
the most innovative guitarists of his time, his star was all but
faded out by the time of his tragic death in 1970.
Me? I subscribe to theory number two – and his album
Band Of Gypsys serves as proof of how far Hendrix slid in
just under four years – and so soon after his legendary appearance
at Woodstock.
After dissolving the Experience, Hendrix teamed up with an
all-black band, including old Army buddy Buddy Miles. Apparently
tired of the pop rock world, Hendrix wanted to return to his roots
and turn a little more towards funk. His dream took the stage of
Fillmore East on New Years’ Eve in 1969 and recorded this album,
now legendary in Hendrix circles.
If only it lived up to the hype. By the time Hendrix played note
one with this band, his glory days were over. He had shown possibly
the last of his glory in the first rays of sunlight the last day of
Woodstock – he seems to be reduced to a mere shell of himself on
this one. He would be dead less than ten months later.
I know, it is pointless to compare different periods of an
artist’s career. But when you compare Hendrix’s performance on the
opening track “Who Knows” to early hits like “Purple Haze” and “All
Along The Watchtower,” it just isn’t the same performer there. The
fire in his playing isn’t there, the songwriting has taken a turn
for the worse and for the overblown – it just ins’t Hendrix
anymore.
And yes, “Machine Gun” has some flashes of the old Hendrix
brilliance. But it hasn’t held up well to the test of time – lost
in the span of 27 years is the anger over the Vietnam War, It may
have been a more potent song had it been shorter. Take a thousand
“what-ifs” and apply them to “Machine Gun” – each one could have
kept this song fresh.
Leave it to Miles to save the day for his old friend. “Changes”
is a well-written song that seems to be the perfect vehicle for
Hendrix – here is the funk he was looking to capture. Miles is in
strong voice and shows a flair for songwriting. His other song on
this one, “We Gotta Live Together,” is not as strong, but is also a
decent effort.
On the remainder of the album, Hendrix shows that when he
shortens the songs, he tightens them up – though they still aren’t
up to his best work. Of these, “Message Of Love” was the best of
the bunch – the trio of Hendrix, Miles and bassist Buddy Cox show
how good they sounded after just a few short months together.
But the fact is that
Band Of Gypsys is a difficult listen. It’s difficult not
just because it is a reminder of how little time Hendrix had left,
nor because it is far from his best work. It is difficult because
of Hendrix’s loss of direction musically. I’m not going to say he
should have stayed writing pop songs, but at this point in his
career, Hendrix was quite confused musically. He was torn between
being a rock superstar and a spokesman for black musicians and for
their style of music. And when he suffered, the music suffered even
more – because it was so close to his heart.
Hendrix fans may think this is blasphemy, but I find the end
result of
Band Of Gypsys tragic – an album which spelled the end of
Hendrix’s days of popularity during his lifetime. And while his
status and legend has grown since his death – and rightfully so –
this is still not one of Hendrix’s shining moments.