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An Unfortunate Anniversary – Jimi Hendrix and What Killed Him?

20 Sep

Johnny Allen Hendrix (otherwise known as James (Jimi) Marshall Hendrix) was born in Seattle in November of 1942, thereby founding the “Live in Seattle if you Want to Be a Talented Musician” act. Seattle, where it rains so much the only thing to do is play music.

Hendrix has practically become another name for guitar. His effortless skill, dripping passion, and innovative creativity for the six-stringed sound-producer has elevated him to the status of legendary in the eyes of practically all who have ever listened to a G-chord once in their lives. If one took the average top five of every “Best Guitarist” poll created in the past 50 years, Hendrix would not only be in the top five, but also he’d probably be first. Now we can sit here and debate whether Hendrix’s short spurt of talent makes him better than guitar gods like Clapton, Allman, King, Vaughan, etc., but that debate is pretty much endless. Simply, they are all great guitarists, and Hendrix, despite only living to 27 years old, is with the group.

On Sept. 18, 1970, 41 years ago, Jimi Hendrix died in London. I know I am two days late on the anniversary, but since Tuesdays are now reserved for music news (when interesting), I thought I would do my anniversary post today. Much mystery surrounds Hendrix’s death. The initial report is that he asphyxiated on his own vomit after consuming a copious amount of red wine, but John Bannister, the surgeon who treated Hendrix and made this claim, was accused by Monika Dannemann, Hendrix’s girlfriend at the time, of malpractice, and was reprimanded for two counts of medical malpractice, and struck off the medical register for fraud in 1992. Apparently, according to reports, Hendrix had little alcohol in his system. Dannermann’s account of the night, though, have changed from interview to interview and she committed suicide shortly after being found guilty of contempt of court for repeating a libel against Kathy Etchingham, another of Hendrix’s girlfriends in the 60s.

A recent book released by a former Animals’ roadie named James “Tappy” Wright claimed that Hendrix was murdered because he wanted to end his management contract, but this report was repudiated by Bob Levine, Wright’s long term business associate and Mike Jeffery’s (Hendrix’s manager at the time) assistant manager in New York. Levine said that Wright made up these stories to sell a book. In the book, Wright has commentary by John Bannister saying that is is plausible that Hendrix could have been murdered.

According to an article released in 2005 by The Sunday Times:

At some point early that morning he took nine Vesparax. In all likelihood he was under the impression that the pills were weaker than American pharmaceuticals and, desperately needing rest, took a handful. If he had intended to kill himself, as was later assumed, it was odd that he left 40 pills, more than enough to have assured an easy and virtually immediate death.”

“As it was, the nine pills he swallowed would have made him lose consciousness quickly. Some time during the early hours, the combination of the Vesparax, the alcohol in his system and the other drugs he’d used that night caused Jimi to heave up the contents of his stomach. What he brought up — mostly wine and undigested food — was then aspirated into his lungs, causing him to stop breathing.”

The death may forever remain a mystery. Conflicting reports make a true reason-of-death out of reach. A conservative guess would be that the report above is true, but, where there is mystery, there will always be speculation. And where there is speculation, there will always be conspiracy theories. The best guess is your own produced from unbiased sources. But, as the article above concludes, despite everything, Hendrix was still dead on the morning of Sept. 18 and the world mourned.

Here is Hendrix performing “Red House” at Royal Albert Hall in London on Feb. 24, 1969.

Landau Eugene Murphy Jr. Did it His Way

15 Sep

Landau Eugene Murphy Jr. did it his way and today, he is $1 million dollars richer. Yes, the congenial crooner took home the title of Season 6 champion of America’s Got Talent last night, and, in my opinion, it was well deserved. Two weeks ago, I previewed the singers in the top 10 of the show, and wrote this about Landau:

Landau Eugene Murphy Jr. is a crooner. The purpose of America’s Got Talent is to find a potential Las Vegas act. It is difficult not seeing a man with his immense talent on a Las Vegas stage. I say this because there seems to always be a place for a 40′s/50′s throwback. I don’t think the crooner act is tired or antiquated. Murphy’s delightful voice can help restore the genre to Vegas. Murphy, a car washer from West Virginia, has blown away the judges week-after-week performing classics by crooners like Sinatra. And, on top of it all, he is so wonderfully humbled by the praise that it almost seems that he doesn’t realize the talent he has. You can’t help but root for the guy, and it is not difficult to because he is both genuinely talented and perfectly kind.

Besides his unquestionable talent, it was his kind, good-hearted nature that propelled him to the top of the show. Americans always vote for the underdog with the story about overcoming life’s difficulties. Landau, who was homeless at a point of his life, represented this picture, but, he did not lean on it. No, instead, he performed with gusto every time out and always seemed to appreciate the applause and comments. He worked hard and his hard work paid off. And, now, after the end was near, he will start a new life as a professional crooner, headlining an act in Las Vegas. I couldn’t be happier for him.

This performance above of “My Way,” originally by Paul Anka (but, of course, made famous by Mr. Frank Sinatra), “sealed the deal,” as judge Howie Mandel said. It wasn’t only the pure perfection of the notes that did it for me, but also it was a noticeable emotion that pushed out the most powerful and passionate notes in the song. Landau sang it like he meant it. And, he did mean it. Congrats to Landau Eugene Murphy Jr. and I am looking forward to buying an album of Murphy standards.

Colin Hay Sings of a Beautiful World

14 Sep

Not often does an artist succesfully travel from an accomplished band into the world of solo recordings. Colin Hay is an exception to the rule. The one-time lead-vocalist of the men down under, Men at Work, has released several solo albums since the late 80’s and his status as incredible singer/songwriter goes unquestioned. His Scottish/Australian vocal flavor, tremendous range, and passionate lyric and guitar work makes Hay an acoustic force and he releases great content time and time again.

Many may know Hay from the TV series “Scrubs,” where he contributed music to a series of episodes and made on-camera performances. If you are a “Scrubs” fan you will certainly recognize this song:

My favorite song by Hay is “Beautiful World.” I love it because of its sincere simplicity and imperturable message. The song also provides some apt lyrics that are timeless. He describes how there are great negatives in the world, but one must learn to appreciate the niceties of life because, hey, “perhaps this is as good as it gets.” He also uses lapsang souchong in his lyric, and anyone who uses this popular tea leaf in a song succesfully deserves some credit. The song’s melody is soft and Hay gives it just enough of a taste of smokiness. That actually sounds like lapsang souchong tea. So, listen to this song while enjoying some tea.

Another recording I’d like to share with you from Hay is a cover of “Norwegian Wood” he recently recorded at a session with Rolling Stone magazine. It’s so beautifully stripped down and it’s bare acoustic style is inviting. I could listen to Hay sing and play guitar for hours. It is that relaxing. Enjoy and have a beautiful day in the beautiful world.

Hay’s new album Gathering Mercury was released earlier this year and it definitely deserves a listen. Check out more from Hay at his website

Blackbird with Blue Eyes

13 Sep

Can you guess the two songs that are going to be featured in this version of “Six Degrees of Your iPod?” For those new to the Music Court, “Six Degrees of Your iPod” is a little iPod-related game we play at the blog. It’s not iPod specific, actually. Any randomized music generator will do. Here are the rules. Take out your music device and put it on shuffle. Then skip through six songs and write them all down. Can you connect the first song to the sixth song? That’s the purpose of the game. Random music connections! I’d love to read any of your own attempts at the game, so if you happen to be shuffling through your portable music device and you play, please comment with your results. Here is what I came up with today. The first song to appear was:

1.) “Blackbird” by The Beatles

Can you get any better than this simple McCartney classic? Seriously, McCartney and Lennon were masters of short and sweet pieces. Well, they were masters of all types of songs. I’m sure if you asked them to lay down some salsa beats they would have obliged. But that is completely irrelevant.

McCartney wrote “Blackbird” as a symbolic piece dedicated to the civil rights struggle of African Americans in the United States. The peaceful guitar riff was inspired by Bach’s “Bourree in E Minor, which was a lute piece that, as children, George Harrison and him tried to learn to show off. And, humorously, “Blackbird” is now a beginner guitar necessity. Just like “Smoke on the Water” anyone who picks up a guitar must try his/her hand at playing “Blackbird,” in some parts to show off to the room.

The song appeared on the White Album.

2.) “In The Pockets” by The Tallest Man on Earth

3.) “Genesis 3:23” by The Mountain Goats

4.) “Why Can’t We Be Friends” by War

5.) Generator ^ First Floor” by Freelance Whales

6.) “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” by CSN(Y)

Crosby Stills Nash and Sometimes Young. “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes,” arguably this super groups most famous song, sparked the formation of CSN in the first place. The song, written by Stephen Stills, works with a crafty, somewhat deceptive title. Suite, in the classic sense, means an ordered set of musical pieces, usually four in number like the song. And then the possible  Sweet refers to the song’s subject, Stills’ ex-girlfriend, singer-songwriter Judy Collins, who apparently has some pretty sweet blue eyes. It really is one hell of a break-up song.

Connection: There are some interesting connections between both the Beatles and CSNY and there is an independent connection between the songs. After forming, prior to Neil Young joining the group, the group failed an audition at the Beatles’ Apple Records. That wasn’t a very wise move for the label. The band became pretty succesful. But there were no hard feelings. The band’s first live gig was at the Auditorium Theater in Chicago in August of 1969 and the band opened with “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” before launching into a cover of…”Blackbird” by the Beatles. Cool, right? The show was on August 17. Hmm…that date sounds familiar. They mentioned that they would be performing the next day at something called Woodstock, wherever that was. Well, after the show they went to Woodstock, where they went on stage at 3 a.m., August 18, and performed “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” followed by “Blackbird” again.

The Beatles did not perform at Woodstock for a variety of potential reasons. Lennon may have requested there be a spot of Yoko Ono’s Plastic Ono Band which was denied. I doubt that, though. I could’ve performed there. I mean, Sha Na Na did. Another potential reason was that Lennon wanted to play but his entrance into the U.S. from Canada was blocked by Nixon. Also, seems a bit farfetched. Most likely it was a combination of the Beatles’ being on the verge of collapse and the fact that they had not performed an official concert since 1966.

9/11 – A Remembrance

9 Sep

When 9/11 is broached in conversation a constant question asked is what you remember from the day. As human beings, we are linked by our rich memories and bonded by the emotions that can forever be emitted by these mental images. The stories are telling because most of them luckily don’t involve the initial direct contact that some were unfortunate enough to observe. No, most stories involve work or school, where first notice of the traumatic events was shared by a co-worker, peer, loved one, or, in some cases, random individuals whom you will always remember because they shared with you an item of news that still gives you a knot in your  stomach today.

When the first and second plane penetrated the leviathan New York City towers, I was sitting in technology class, a 12-year-old in seventh grade. A student broke the news to the class. We were then transferred to another technology class across the hall where we sat and discussed the interruption to the normal Tuesday school day. I don’t believe our superiors knew how to handle the situation. Throughout the day, more and more classes were like this until the day ended and we were bussed home. My parents and I then sat in front of the television in their room and watched the planes hit the trade centers over and over and over again, like a movie scene on terrible repeat. And, to be honest, that is all I remember.

It seems rather peculiar that such a fateful day did not store more images in my mind. I was 12, immature and fallow. I was certainly not mature enough to fully understand the gravity of the situation. I knew that it was terrible and I felt awful, but my pre-pubescent mind did not emotionally grasp the day’s events. I was too young then. I am not, now.

As I voraciously read the remarkable 10-year-anniversary coverage completed by the New York Times, New Yorker, Newsday, among several other New York media outlets, I put myself in the mind of a 21-year-old man, just out of college, commuting to his first job at the World Trade Center, the same monstrous building that his grandparents took him to when he was a little boy – the buildings he attempted to cover with his thumb at long distances and touched with the same thumb when he was outside them looking up, up, up trying unsuccessfully to see the top. I think of a cloudless, almost relaxed Tuesday morning, where a sharp blue sky and bright sun reflected off of glass buildings and the irrepressible chatter of early-morning New Yorkers. That 21-year-old gets to work early, striped blue button down, black slacks, combed light brown hair that would darken as the sunny summer passed, a black briefcase – his entire wardrobe picked out with the help of his proud parents. He takes the elevator up and up and up, until he can see the top of the building. He sits at his desk, exchanges pleasantries with his co-workers who are already making their plans for the weekend, turns on his computer and…

We are ten years removed from 9/11 and I have become my created character, a bright-eyed 21-year-old working at his first job in the city. My quotidian routine has formed and the circadian rhythm of weekdays has been bolstered by repetition. But, you see, that 21-year-old in September of 2001 did not come home that Tuesday and he will never come home as a 31-year-old with kids of his own, and I can’t shake the fact that on Sept. 11, 2001, a date that will forever be implanted in the structure of New York City like an ineffaceable tattoo, men and women got up, went on the train, settled in at work, and died. I can’t conceive it, I can’t comprehend it, and I don’t think any one will ever be able to.

As I was reading through a variety of stories about the day, I came across a quotation from an individual who had escaped the buildings prior to their collapse. As he was evacuating the buildings, he noticed a tall, slender man, in black dress shoes plummeting to the ground outside of the window. He shook his head and the first thought to pop in his head was, ‘the firefighters have already set up nets on the bottom.’ And then he shook the thought and realized that no one could survive a fall of that many stories at the velocity they were traveling. But the irrational thought was the first to cross his mind, because when you are presented with an obscene and absurd reality, it is only human to think that everything is going to be okay. The images of those falling still seem unreal today. I have trouble even typing these words. And those who remained trapped in conference rooms or offices who called loved ones for the last time to assure them that they were trying to get out. And the emergency personnel who sacrificed their lives and climbed the burning building to try to rescue everyone they could. That’s who we should remember today. Because, when many think of 9/11 they think of the after effects. They think of how improved radio technology could have helped firefighters escape and how the events sparked two ongoing costly wars. Conspiracy theories are propagated because of the human necessity to question everything, especially something so unexplainable. But at least on Sunday, let’s please all remember those who do not have the luxury to ponder such things because they died in the towers, the pentagon, or the planes.

Let’s remember them, and let’s remember the sincere brotherhood and kindness that temporarily washed over the country. Let’s remember the refreshing quiet that let everyone mourn the events and the timely patriotism that, at least for a few days, was not vitiated. Try to remember such human emotions and, maybe, attempt to implement these strong feelings again. We are capable. We are human. We have flaws, but, at such a volatile time in our country, it is not appropriate to spew vitriol and vituperate. It’s time to work together to solve the troubles facing our nation and I think that this anniversary provides a great starting point.

Now, while this was not much of a music post, I still want to provide a peaceful song for Sunday.