My memories of 'well-mannered' Jimi Hendrix when he popped into legendary West Midlands club for a drink
In the fag-end fog and beer blur of a Black Country club, amid the “time gentleman, please” clamour for a final Babycham or Brew XI, one man, decked in the height of fab Swinging Sixties flamboyance, stood out from the crowd.
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With a shock of hair that appeared modelled on an explosion deep in upholstery, he strolled on to the lager slick stage and began to play. What came from his guitar was disjointed and rambling – a stream of electric consciousness.
But what unfolded in the next hour now has a place in rock history. It is music folklore from the “summer of love” year when some tripped the light fantastic with the aid of acid trips.
The date was Thursday, April 11, 1967, and The Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love” topped the charts. The venue, Wall Heath’s legendary Kingfisher Club.
And the man draped in garish jewellery, ruffles and crushed velvet? Guitar god Jimi Hendrix, looking to unwind after his gig at Wolverhampton’s Gaumont Cinema. That was the Black Country leg of a 25 date concert tour featuring a line-up that could kindly be described as diverse. Unkindly as simply incongruous.
Jimi and his band The Experience, who had hit the big time with “Hey Joe” and “Purple Haze”, shared billing with chart-toppers The Walker Brothers, housewives heart-throb Engelbert Humperdinck, Cat Stevens and local band The Californians, seen as Bilston’s answer to the Beach Boys.
As professional and polished as The Californians were, their time on the local circuit revealed Bilston didn’t have a definitive answer to the Beach Boys.
However, they played their part in a magical moment described on scores of websites as “the night Jimi jammed at the Kingfisher”.
To the world, Hendrix was rock’s wild man, an untamed individual who burnt the candle at both ends – the flames blindingly bright, but short-lived. Jimi succumbed to a hellfire, hedonistic lifestyle in 1970 aged only 27.
Those who had read the headlines, then met Hendrix in our patch were shocked to be confronted by a quiet, polite and courteous individual: a man more likely to apologise to staff for spilling bourbon on the bed than trash his hotel room.
“Jimi Hendrix, bloody nice bloke.” That is how survivors of the Kingfisher jam remember Jimi.
Music historian Brian Nicholls, who played in a number of local groups, has played his part in ensuring the impromptu performance is not lost in a purple haze of false anecdotes and urban myths.
He has interviewed those lucky enough to be present and come to a conclusion: “It was absolutely unbelievable!”
Now 79 and living in Alveley, near Bridgnorth, Shropshire, Brian told me: “He had such bloody good manners – ‘yes, ma’am’, ‘please, sir’, ‘excuse me’. He was one of those very obliging types.”
Hendrix, considered one of the greatest guitarists, didn’t extend himself. “It was 12 bar blues,” said Brian. “If you’re jamming over a 12 bar it’s actually quite easy. You can’t really make a mistake, you can improvise in it.
“If you’re going to try to improvise to Hotel California, you better do your homework.
“At one point, Hendrix asked if anyone had a slide and, of course, no one did. So he asked if anyone had a steel comb and actually played guitar with a steel comb.”
That may mean someone possesses a tantalising auction lot: the very comb used by Hendrix.