Hendrix in the Round

Voodoo Chidl Returns

Hendrix in the Round

The night I was born, Lord I swear the moon turned a fire red…
On my way to see Jimi Hendrix at the Seattle Coliseum, Sept. 6, 1968. Taking the bus, only 15 so no drivers license. No girlfriend, honestly not sure they would appreciate it and besides, I came for the music, man. The last hurrah of summer break, the summer of Hey Jude and All You Need is Love, Lola. Oh yeah, and a couple major American assassinations, Viet Nam, the Democratic Convention in Chicago, and Nixon vs. Humphrey for President. Like I said, I came for the music.

The sky did indeed burn a fire orange-red from the setting sun. The meteorologists said it was from a temperature inversion and particulate matter (pollution – this was still the days of leaded gas). But I knew better. The Voodoo Child was in town, his birth place.

Understand that at the time, he was probably more of a myth than he has become posthumously. All Along the Watchtower was a startling experience coming from your AM radio, even with all that was happening in popular music at the time- the Beatles and psychedelia, the Doors and their Lizard King, Janis Joplin etc; Jimi was still something new, a not-from-around-here sound. No one could dress like him, not just Mr. White Collar Conservative. His concerts were legendary although he had only been introduced to the American public a little over a year earlier. Beyond the drugs and groupies, Hendrix had an aura about him of something much older and wiser than rock ‘n’ roll or the blues, something running deep and spiritual. He had sense of being held back by all these silly Earth games, and you believed him. He was a Voodoo Child. And not an Earthly Voodoo Child, but one from Venus or the rings of Saturn or Arcturus, somewhere, but not this third stone from the sun. While the older bluesmen boasted of their lovemaking abilities and how much they could drink, Hendrix sang about gods making love, about kissing the sky and smashing planets with the side of his hand. An Intergalactic Voodoo Child, messing with the gods.

That was just the imagery from his lyrics. The music was definitely other-worldly, the perfect match for his lyrics as well as accenting the agitation and anxiety to the tempestuous times. Every Hendrix solo was a potential adventure into uncharted territory. He evoked emotions from serenity to the psychotic, from bizarre to sublime.

I get to the Coliseum and find my front row seat. There were a lot of front row seats however, all around the circular stage, about 90 feet in diameter. Stacks of amps divided it into two halves. So for the opening act Vanilla Fudge, I saw mostly one half of the stage or Hendrix’ empty stage with stacks of amps, with every fourth song a front row seats. “In the Round” was obviously just a ploy to sell more premium seats.

Hendrix had to enter through the crowd, there was no backstage or trapdoor. They didn’t really have adequate security and many of us wondered if the show would come off at all as Hendrix held his guitar above his head and made his way through the crowd to the stage. Along with him of course, were Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell. The first song he was right in front of me; wailing away on Spanish Castle Magic. The second song, I had a perfect side view. Third song, the vacant semi circle of the Vanilla Fudge set. Somewhere in the second rotation, Jimi split his pants and had to take off his sweater and tie it around his waist. After I Don’t Live Today, the power went out to the stage, not all that surprising considering it was just basically a large extension cord running out to the middle of the floor. Serendipitously, this allowed for Mitch Mitchell to take an extended solo which kept the crowd from getting unruly and drew of wild round of applause.

The power restored, Hendrix launched into some of his early hits, introducing Purple Haze as a song from about 300 years ago and something that was popular with Benjamin Franklin. The group really tore up Come On, Part One and thankfully Jimi was right in front of me for that number.

After Voodoo Chile (Slight Return), a sacrificial Stratocaster was brought out for Wild Thing followed by God Save the Queen. Jimi didn’t set it on fire, but pounded on it, smashed against the floor, attempted to make brutal love to it against the stacks of Marshalls as the roadies rushed to support the other side keep them from falling over, then brought it back to the front of the stage which was now just revolving continuously at a slow speed. The awestruck crowd was cheering wildly and as the Stratocaster fed back its final death throes Jimi stood about 10 feedback and still controlling the sound as he moved a hand or stepped a little closer, changing the pitch of the feedback like a puppet master.

Finally it gave up mournful moan and Hendrix somehow got off the stage. I stepped out into the night to find the tail end of a thunder and lightning storm, rather rare for Seattle. I had stepped from the wailing and thundering feedback of a sacrificed guitar to the rumbling feedback of the gods throwing lightning bolts over the Coliseum. The Voodoo Child had indeed made a slight return.