Jimi Hendrix: we owe you Everything

Jimi Hendrix's Red House live in Stockholm 1969.

I found it on YouTube last week while searching for some Jimi to listen to while I worked.
I was too lazy to walk downstairs and go through my vinyl or CD collections, and decided it was easier to just "Beam it up Scotty" from cyberspace.
I've heard Red House many times, It was always a favorite of mine.
I know you've probably run across as many covers of this as I have, only the greats would attempt it.
But only Jimi had this quiet power. and the "Live in Stockholm" version had me hypnotized.
What was going to be background to my work, became a lesson in greatness.

Perhaps it was because the bass and the drums were so simply understated, or maybe its because Jimi just extended his arm, and he the guitar became one.

His playing was effortless, no theatrics, no pyro just a stack of amps and headamps and some feedback as needed.
Playing lefthanded was not  a distraction or of consequence.
He had magic in his soul and it extended into his fingers.
They danced up and down the neck of the guitar and moved as quickly as the wings of a hummingbird: and the beauty was just as startling.

As I listened to him, there were so many moments when I was forced to say "How does he DO that?!"

The question echoes across the room and is held there : unanswered.

The date of the video was 1969.

I never saw him live. His life ended much too soon.

I wish I could have spoken with him about where the magic came from, how he found that sweet something that we all immediately recognize and are drawn to. The pure energy. Like the drawstring on a bow, you know the release is something that makes you catch your breath.

I would like to just hold his hand, to feel the power that you know must reside within.  Perhaps that connection would give me some of the magic to create a little of my own.....

but alas, that shall never come to pass.

Jimi: we owe you such a debt of gratitude.

There is not a guitarist alive; young or old, that does not wish they had a morsel of the secret ingredient that has made you immortal in our minds and hearts.

The greats all pay homage to you as we hear them on  Red House, VooDoo Child, every electric version of the Star Spangled Banner ever played.

But the simple, or maybe NOT so simple joy in watching and listening to you has always been knowing that you are the Picasso, the Rembrandt, the Michelangelo of the rock world.

You took the guitar and you painted our world with color and visions.  Your legacy is not  a Purple Haze, but a clearly defined rainbow that dances in the sun.