A Moment In Time with Jimi Hendrix
Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 1:04 pm
Let me start by saying I never met Jimi, but I saw him twice in concert, the first being the best. Here's the story.
Like many other musicians, I was blown away by Jimi Hendrix's first album, and we were determined to catch him live, so when tickets were announced for a Hendrix concert at Newark Symphony Hall, in Newark, NJ, we bought tickets. The concert was scheduled for April 5, 1968.
The night before the show, Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. Suddenly, there was doubt the concert would come off. Newark had been the scene of race riots the summer before, but the show went on. My friends' father, unwilling to let us take the bus to Newark alone (we were sixteen years old at the time), bought a ticket for himself and accompanied us. I give him credit for doing that. The streets were heavily patroled by the National Guard, but there was no violence we could see or hear.
The hall was only half filled at best, when The Soft Machine, the opening act, took the stage for their set. When Jimi and The Experience came out, Jimi said, "I've lost a good friend," or something like that, and beckoned everyone to move up in their seats, which we did. I brought along my little Kodak brownie camera, and moved right up to the lip of the stage to take photos of Jimi during the oepning number, "Purple Haze." Jimi played a white Strat. During the course of their set, I snapped away at the band while they ran through tunes like "Red House" (on which, Jimi with a sunburst Jazzmaster), "Hey Joe," "Manic Depression," "Fire," "Foxey Lady," "The Wind Cries Mary," and finally, "I Don't Live Today." It was a short set.
Jimi also played a black Les Paul Custom for one tune. The main thing I remember is that Jimi stood very still for the entire set and just played; no histrionics, no wild showmanship. He was clearly upset over King's death, and did nothing but play great, soulful guitar. At the end of "I Don't Live Today," Jimi raised his white Strat over his head, and threw it into his Marshall amps. He smiled and walked off. There was no encore.
Years later, I discovered I have some of the only photos in existence of that concert. There was one other man taking photos, but that's it, as far as I know. I have often thought of having the photos, which I still have, digitized, blown up and made presentable so I could sell copies. They're packed away currently.
Like many other musicians, I was blown away by Jimi Hendrix's first album, and we were determined to catch him live, so when tickets were announced for a Hendrix concert at Newark Symphony Hall, in Newark, NJ, we bought tickets. The concert was scheduled for April 5, 1968.
The night before the show, Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. Suddenly, there was doubt the concert would come off. Newark had been the scene of race riots the summer before, but the show went on. My friends' father, unwilling to let us take the bus to Newark alone (we were sixteen years old at the time), bought a ticket for himself and accompanied us. I give him credit for doing that. The streets were heavily patroled by the National Guard, but there was no violence we could see or hear.
The hall was only half filled at best, when The Soft Machine, the opening act, took the stage for their set. When Jimi and The Experience came out, Jimi said, "I've lost a good friend," or something like that, and beckoned everyone to move up in their seats, which we did. I brought along my little Kodak brownie camera, and moved right up to the lip of the stage to take photos of Jimi during the oepning number, "Purple Haze." Jimi played a white Strat. During the course of their set, I snapped away at the band while they ran through tunes like "Red House" (on which, Jimi with a sunburst Jazzmaster), "Hey Joe," "Manic Depression," "Fire," "Foxey Lady," "The Wind Cries Mary," and finally, "I Don't Live Today." It was a short set.
Jimi also played a black Les Paul Custom for one tune. The main thing I remember is that Jimi stood very still for the entire set and just played; no histrionics, no wild showmanship. He was clearly upset over King's death, and did nothing but play great, soulful guitar. At the end of "I Don't Live Today," Jimi raised his white Strat over his head, and threw it into his Marshall amps. He smiled and walked off. There was no encore.
Years later, I discovered I have some of the only photos in existence of that concert. There was one other man taking photos, but that's it, as far as I know. I have often thought of having the photos, which I still have, digitized, blown up and made presentable so I could sell copies. They're packed away currently.
Are those photos color or b&w? If the latter, see my sig below and get in touch with me. I'd be glad to help you out!