Cuando alguien se aproxima a la obra de Jimi Hendrix suele comenzar por las típicas "Purple Haze", "Fire", "Foxy Lady" etc. para posteriormente ir descubriendo otro tipo de piezas, más complejas, menos populares, de modo que siempre fui seguidor de este fragmento del libro (pequeño extracto del capítulo 13) en el que se narra la anécdota ocurrida entre el propio Hendrix y el promotor Bill Graham antes de uno de los cuatro shows que Band of Gypsys ofrecieron en el Fillmore East de New York en la Nochevieja de 1969 y el Día de Año Nuevo de 1970.

(extracto del capítulo 13: New Rising Sun)

After the Band of Gypsys' first show on New Year's Eve 1969, Jimi walked into Bill Graham's office just killing some time, and he asked Bill what the thought of the show.

'Mmmm, okay.'
'What was that?'
'I said it was okay.'

Jimi knew there was something more to this. 'Come on, Bill.'

Bill Graham asked his assistants in the office to leave. They closed the door after them. Bill looked long and hard at Jimi. 'You want me to tell it the way it is?'
'Yeah, sure, I respect you. We've been friends too long. What is it?'
Bill sighed. 'Well, you were one big giant shuck, man.'

Jimi looked at Bill as if he was crazy. 'What did you say?'

'You were one big shuck from beginning to end.'
'Bill ... wow ... what are you talkin' about? Did you hear that? The went crazy.'
'That's the point, Jimi. You're so big, you're Jimi Hendrix. In my opinion you are the world's greatest exponent of the electric guitar and what can be done with it. You're a genius. You humped the guitar, you stuck it behind your back, you picked ir with your teeth, with your toes, with your knees. You did everything except one thing. You forgot to play!'

Jimi was stunned. 'What?'

'You didn't play. I don't know if you know it, but you could walk on that stage and play "Yankee Doodle Dandy" and do push-ups and they would love you, because you are Jimi Hendrix. But being Jimi Hendrix and having that power - wouldn't it be good to tell them - this is what can be done. And that's who you are - you're so powerful.'
Jimi sat there numb. 'Wow.'
'What? Am I lying to you? What do I do - apologise? Don't forget, schmuck, you asked me what I thought. You are a very powerful person - musically, politically, socially, anyway you want to look at it. You walk around with no socks - they won't buy socks, they won't wear socks. Some guy'll set fire to his house trying to set fire to his guitar before he learns how to play.'

Jimi and Bill talked it through some more, but Jimi was not too happy about it. He knew Bill was right, but he hadn't been out there for months, he felt he had to put on a show. When he wanted to, he enjoyed putting a show. What he objected to was being expected to do it all the time - hence he didn't want to be a circus clown performing to order. Besides, when he did cut down the theatricals or left out songs like 'Wild Thing', the disappoinment in the air was tangible. Even the hip Woodstock crowd were shouting out for 'Wild Thing' between numbers.

Jimi was as much upset with himself as with Bill. 'You gonna be around for the second show?'

'Yes.'

The second audience came in. Bill came out on stage and announced: 'On bass Billy Cox, on drums Buddy Miles, on lead guitar Jimi Hendrix. Will you please welcome ...'

'What followed', says Bill, 'with respect to Carlos and Eric and all those others, was the most brilliand, emotional display of virtuoso electric guitar playing I have ever heard. I don't expect ever to hear such sustained brilliance in an hour and fifteen minutes. He just stood there, did nothing, just played and played and played.'

The audience applauded, not the kind of screeching, cheering heard at most rock concerts, but the resonant, thunderous applause accorded opera singers or great classical violinists or pianists - accolades for high art.

Jimi came to the side of the stage - he was like a big mop of sweat. He walked over to me and said, 'Well (pant, gasp), you satisfied, motherfucka?'

'Jimi, that was brilliant. What can I say? You were magical.'

'Awright. You gonna let me go? You gonna release me now? Thanks'

And Jimi goes out and does a half-hour of all the schtick, all the garbage, the humpin' and grindin' and kickin', pickin' with his teeth, playin' behing his back. And he comes off and goes to me 'Naaaaaa'.

It was from the next day's performance that tracks were selected for the Band of Gypsys album released later in June. From the first show came 'Who Knows' and 'Machine Gun', the focal point for the sustained brilliance of which Bill Graham spoke. If one piece of music had to be chosen to exemplify why Jimi Hendrix was the best there was by some considerable distance 'Machine Gun' was it. The quality of the improvisation, the sophisticated techniques employed, the artistry and imagination are staggering.

Jimi announced the song: 'Happy New Year, first of all. I hope we'll have a million or two million more of them ... if we can get over this summer (heh, heh, heh). Right I'd like to dedicate this one to the draggin' scene that's goin' on - all the soldiers that are fightin' in CHicago, Milwaukee and New York ... oh yes, and all the soldiers fightin' in Vietnam. Like to do a thing called "Machine Gun".'

Jimi was a hero among black soldiers in Vietnam. In his book Dispatches, war correspondent Michael Herr describes coming across a black corporal hunched over a cassette recorder with a big grin on his face as 'Fire' boomed out across the paddy fields above Vinh Long. Jimi had Credentials. '"Say, that Jimi Hendrix is my main man" someone would say. "He's definitely got his shit together." Hendrix had once been in the 101st Airborne, and the Airborne in Vietnam was full of wiggy-brilliant spades like him, really mean and really good, guys who always took care of you when things got bad. That music meant a lot to them. I never one heard it played over the Armed Forces Radio Network.'

But mention of Vietnam as an afterthought was perhaps a further indication that his onomatopoeic evocations of death and destruction were primarily directed at civil unrest in America.

Machine Gun
Tearing my body all apart
Machine Gun, yeah
Tearing my body all apart
Evil man make me kill ya
Evil man make you kill me
Evil man make me kill you
Event though we're only families apart

Well I pick up my axe and fight like a farmer
(You know what I mean)
Hey! And your bullets keep knocking me down

Hey, I pick up my axe and fight like a farmer now
Yeah, but you still blast me down to the ground

The same way you shoot me down, baby
You'll be going just the same
Three times the pain,
and your own self to blame
Hey, Machine Gun

I ain't afraid of your mess no more, babe
I ain't afraid no more
After a while, your, your cheap talk don't even cause me pain,
so let your bullets fly like rain

'Cause I know all the time you're wrong baby
And you'll be goin' -'way just the same
Yeah, Machine Gun
Tearing my family apart
Yeah, yeah, alright
Tearing my family apart

(Don't you shoot him down)
(He's 'bout lo leave here)
(Don't you shoot him down)
(He's got to stay here)
(He ain't going nowhere)
(He's been shot down to the ground)
(Oh where he can't survive, no, no)

Yeah, that's what we don't wanna hear anymore, alright?
(No bullets)
At least here, huh huh
(No guns, no bombs)
Huh huh
(No nothin', just let's all live and live)
(You know, instead of killin')