Wow, this one is gold. Jimi Hendrix played the Washington Hilton on Connecticut Ave. NW — the same one where Hinkley shot Reagan in 1981. That’s right, the guitar god himself played to 4,000 fans in the hotel’s international ballroom on March 10th, 1968, accompanied by his bandmates, Noel Redding (drums) and Mitch Mitchell (bass). This one might be cooler than the Beatles playing D.C. in 1964, but I don’t want to spark a giant musical debate. They’re both awesome finds.
Check out the photo below of Jimi tearing up the stage.
Take a look at this concert promotion poster. We don’t have posters like this stapled to utility poles in Adams Morgan or Capitol Hill these days. And I would gladly pay four bucks to see Hendrix. It’s also amusing to see you could buy concert tickets at the Willard.
Jim Hoagland, winner of two Pulitzers, wrote an interesting review of the show the next day in the Washington Post. Here are a few excerpts:
Hendrix and his two side men are making their first American tour since becoming England’s most popular rock group. Part of yesterday’s crowd was composed of two planeloads of his fans from New York who were shut out of his sell-out shows there last week. He is, in short, the hottest thing going.
The 22-year-old guitarist and vocalist, who was born in Seattle, became an instant legend in junior high school classrooms when, in a moment of crowd hysteria, he burned his guitar at the Monterey pop festival. The question kept circulating yesterday, in anguished tones, “Is he going to burn it?”
He didn’t. But he didn’t disappoint the crowd either, with his wildly sexual gyrations and to-hell-with-it attitude. He is bad, and teen-agers love him for it. He is more evil than Elvis ever dreamed of being, and teen-agers know that it infuriates their parents.
…
Jimi Hendrix is the P. T. Barnum of rock. He assesses, and fills, the needs of his crowd.
This would have been an incredible concert to go to. Frankly, any Hendrix show would have been great.
By the way, one somber fact about this show is that it predated the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and the resulting D.C. riots by a little over three weeks.
Below is a CD cover I found off of a bootleg from the first show that night (they played at 3pm and 8pm). Thanks to Jotavich over at Blogger for this one. That setlist looks pretty sweet, even if it’s short … probably an hour is my guess.
Killing Floor
Foxy Lady
The Wind Cries Mary
Fire
Red House
I Don’t Live Today
Purple Haze
Wild Thing
I was there – 3:00 show. My best friend at the time – Charlie – and I were next door neighbors at Ft Meade . . . products of military families. My dad was pretty conservative. Charlie’s dad was more . . . “the kids like the rock and roll . . . it is what it is”. We were not yet able to drive and/or didn’t have a car between us. No way my dad would even entertain taking us to – gulp! Downtown DC! … much less to a rock concert. Charlie’s dad was always cool about it, would drive us there (or to the Baltimore Civic Center – a HUGE venue for us) and go have coffee for 3 or 4 hours, then drag us home. Anyway, Charlie was of the “Clapton is God” religion. I, OTOH, of course knew that Hendrix was our guitar lord and savior. We’d jibe each other and argue “the fine points” all the time. Truth was, we both dug it all.
I don’t recall the attack on stage, so that musta happened at the later show. I do remember waking up after a 30 minute, droning rendition of “We Did it Again” by the Soft Machine. And I do remember being in awe of the floating oil/water bubble light show . . very mesmerizing and quite appropriate for The Soft Machine’s mind numbing brand of psychedelia.
Most importantly, I remember rushing the stage when Hendrix took the stage and staying there the whole time (security was more relaxed in those days), 5 feet away from my guitar deity, as he ripped into Purple Haze, Fire and Red House . . . and the inexplicably popular and wildly exciting cover of Wild Thing. It moooved me. He got down on his knees . . . as he played the guitar with his teeth. And behind his back (no fire, though). And in savage gyrations attacked the stack of Marshalls elucidating all manner of really cool feedback. It was an unforgettable experience.
It was one of “those” shows where, ears ringing, you walked out in a daze, almost regretting getting back to “real life”.
Those were the daze . . . thanks Ghosts, for posting this up. So many memories flooding in. Peace. (I’ve never found anyone else that attended that concert. (Saw him 2 years later, early ’70, Band of Gypsies tour, Baltimore. Then he was gone.