More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
February 24 - March 4, 2019
Biographers who choose deceased subjects are all gravediggers in a way, with a bit of Dr. Frankenstein thrown in;
Like so many green musicians, Jimi had been seduced by the idea that having a producer interested in him was payment enough.
The unique sound he forged that summer in the basement of Greenwich Village clubs was an accident, in a way, but it was also a visionary, brilliant accident.
“It was like the whole thing was run by Frank Sinatra.”
Noel became an excellent bassist, but he continued to harbor the desire to play guitar, which forever created a competition between him and Jimi, one that was not only musical but also, occasionally, personal when they both sought to bed the same groupies.
The boy who had grown up wearing hand-me-downs had suddenly blossomed into a fashion trendsetter as one of the first men to explore “vintage chic.”
The boy who had waited so long for his first guitar was now onstage destroying them.
Later, Jimi went and watched the Doors at the Scene Club and from that show got a better idea of where rock in America was headed.
It was as if whatever gene allowed Jimi to live in the moment, and thus gave him creativity, canceled out his ability to carefully consider business deals.
“The big joke was you had to send the whole lot of them round to the doctor because a groupie had given them all the clap,”
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power,” Jimi once said, “the world will know peace.”
And for once, and for everyone, the truth was not still a mystery.”
“It ain’t what you hear,” Miles replied. “It’s what you bring from the subjective to the objective. It ain’t about what you hear.”
“That’s what happens when Earth fucks with Space.
“I want you to forget about yesterday and tomorrow, and just make our own little world right here.”
Jimi had long thought that his life had turned into a circus; now he was an act in one.
“Are you feeling all right? Then welcome to the electric circus.”
He announced that he did not like LSD anymore “because it’s naked. I need oxygen.”
And knowing me, I’ll probably get busted at my own funeral.”
