"He just looked unusual - stunning really.... He was fresh and he had a very soft sort of American accent."

Writes Kathy Etchingham meeting her long-ago boyfriend Jimi Hendrix (who was not a star at the time).

[One evening] Etchingham was trying to make mashed potato and not doing a very good job of it.

"He comes along and tastes them with a fork and says they're all lumpy," she recalls. "I knew he couldn't cook himself and that's how the argument started. It ended with my screaming and shouting, throwing the plates on the floor and marching out."

Etchingham spent the night at a friend's and Hendrix missed her so much that he sat down to write one of his biggest hits, The Wind Cries Mary.

Mary is Etchingham's middle name and the guitarist would sometimes use it to wind her up.

"The Wind Cries Mary" is about an argument over mashed potatoes!

***

A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday’s life potatoes
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind, it cries Mary

"Buy yourself a shotgun"... maybe not a real shotgun, maybe something metaphorical.

So, yeah, there's Jimi Hendrix, on TV in 1965. Can you even hear him? I want to concentrate on Buddy & Stacy. I'm surprised they got away with dancing like that on television:



Those were different times.

"Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows."

This post is a present to those of you who seem to be looking for a place to honor Marvin Hamlisch, who died yesterday. I don't post about every obituary, and my standard for posting is whatever it is, and it's not that my commenters keep announcing, in random posts, that somebody famous died. But I got enough of that on Hamlisch that I looked up the obit out of curiosity. What was it that people are so worked up about? I'd rather post about the death of Robert Hughes. Why Hamlisch? He was on all those awards shows, associated with a lot of movies that I don't care about, like "The Way We Were." But I saw that he wrote the old Lesley Gore hit, and I'm up for embedding that. So here's the post people seem to want.

Here's the Robert Hughes obit. He was the big "Shock of the New" art critic. (Factoid: He caught gonnorrhea from Jimi Hendrix... second hand... through his wife... or so he thought.) And for those who look for death triads, there's Judith Crist, who was certainly the first film critic I ever read. She was in TV Guide. Here's something she said about Anne Bancroft: "She seems a cowlike creature with no aspirations or intellect above her pelvis."

There you go. There they go. Are you happy now? Is your life sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows?

"When the Power of Love Overcomes the Love of Power/the World Will Know Peace."

Bumper sticker on a car that nudged into a crosswalk full of pedestrians... twice.

"React to the greatness of the march... are you happy with it?"

"Hendrix is remembered as the greatest rock guitarist of all time not because he was more adept than anyone else..."

"... at moving his fingers along a fretboard (countless guitarists have surpassed him at this), but because he had the most profound effect on how we make and hear music."

My son John pays his tribute to Jimi Hendrix — who died 40 years ago today. There's some good discussion over there about why art is more important than politics, which, of course, it is.

"But neither the sekrit muslin theory nor the hippie revival theory seems likely to be true."

Language Log sniffs out the origins of "talk about me like a dog."

The era ended long ago, but...

... the end of an era.

"The first so-called black hippie."

Arthur Lee died of leukemia, aged 61. His band was called Love, and if you remember one record, it's probably "My Little Red Book." (A song written by Hal David and Burt Bacharach.)

Black hippies... an interesting subject. We usually think of Jimi Hendrix. Here's an Amazon listmania list of black hippie music to remind you of some of the others.

Maybe you think of what Alice Walker wrote (back in 1967):

I think there are so few Negro hippies because middle-class Negroes, although well fed, are not careless. They are required by the treacherous world they live in to be clearly aware of whoever or whatever might be trying to do them in.

There were so many reason to decline to be a hippie, and some of these reasons must have been especially appealing to black people. But there were -- are? -- also some reasons to want to be a hippie, especially in the context of late 60s/early 70s music. Thank God for the music of the black hippies!

"Pounced with fire on flaming roads, using ideas as my maps..."

Hey, "Theme Time Radio Hour with Bob Dylan" is on a 9 am on XM Radio, and I've only got the satellite radio activated for the car.

It was 5 to 9, and despite having written only one blog post this morning, I threw my things in the car and drove west, out anywhere where the landscape might mesh with Bob and the music and light up a dramatic mindscape.

It was the first show, the one I'd already streamed on the computer and been a little unenthusiastic about, but listening to it in the car, I melted into love. It's a very tight show, with a brilliant mix of songs and styles, tied together with Dylan's commentary and recitations of some of the lyrics. The peak of the show -- reached somewhere in the rolling farmland and twisty backroads around Black Earth, Wisconsin -- came when Hendrix's "The Wind Cries Mary" -- the theme was weather -- gave way to Judy Garland's "Come Rain or Come Shine." Surrounding them on either side were less well-known artists, much quirkier choices. A beautifully orchestrated program.

I've been resisting turning on the web version of my XM subscription. (It's a matter of making a phone call.) I think I like the idea of the car as a necessary part of the radio. What are the shows I love so much that I take a drive just because they are on? I've only ever had one other show I felt that way about.

UPDATE: Here's a nice review of the show that includes a full playlist.

Audible Althouse, #15.

Here's the new episode. I went over an hour this time. Just a tad though. Topics discussed: what your car says about you, guy cars and chick cars, Jimi Hendrix singing "All Along the Watchtower," Edie Brickell singing "What I Am," dreary women in the news (Valerie Plame, Cindy Sheehan, Harriet Miers), impressive women dead and alive (Rosa Parks and Condoleezza Rice), great and not so great films (especially "Nashville"), Steve Colbert, Al Franken, Howard Stern, three rather bad artists, and the importance of having a high energy Monday. Key digressions: insect repellent (and the "they don't bite, they don't even light" commercial) and the whole issue of whether "life is but a joke."

Don't forget: Audible Althouse has been nominated for a BOB! That ought to make you listen to the podcast with new ears.




Vote for Audible Althouse!

And, once again, let me thank the wonderful John Althouse Cohen and Brit Rice for recording the incredibly cool theme music!

ADDED: Bad link fixed. Sorry.

The real reason Jimi didn't go to Vietnam?

Did you see there's a new Jimi Hendrix bio that claims he procured a discharge from the Army by saying he'd fallen in love with another soldier? (Kos has this discussion going.) Hendrix told people he'd been injured in a parachute jump. The book also says he only enlisted to avoid going to jail for stealing cars.

I wonder if that's true. Just recently, I was looking at his childhood drawings at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and was quite struck by his vivid interest in the military.

The author of the biography needs a newsy, juicy nugget to get publicity, and this allegation works awfully well. I hope it's not true.

I was just sitting in a café yesterday where they were playing "Are You Experienced?" and fell into a reverie about Jimi. I thought that of all the rock stars who checked out of this world early, the one it would have benefitted us the most to keep with us was Jimi.

Notes on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

1. Photography is not allowed, so I can't show you the lovely Bobby Sherman stage outfit or the Devo hat or the Jimi Hendrix drawing of an eagle.

2. What touched me very personally: a flyer for a Byrds concert at Newark Symphony Hall on March 27, 1966. I was there. It was my first rock concert.

3. I enjoyed all the stage costumes. Real effort is put into the fashion side of rock music. Many nondescript outfits of jeans and T-shirts have been worn on stage, but a lot of people have really put their art into the visuals. I stood a couple feet away from the bronze-colored bustier Madonna wore in the "Like a Virgin" go-ahead-and-arrest-me performance on the "Blonde Ambition" tour. And you could violate the rules and reach out and touch the hem of three or four ruffled shirts worn by Jimi. But the most impressive costume, I think, is that amazing thing David Bowie wore in the "Ashes to Ashes" video.

4. You can see Jimi's handwritten lyrics for "Purple Haze," with the original title: "Purple Haze/Jesus Saves."

5. There's a tower of TV screens showing fast cut clips from MTV videos. When "Thriller" comes on, a group of five young guys does the zombie dance along with Michael. They do it perfectly. It makes me think about how much love there is for Michael Jackson. People aren't really talking about his trial -- his tragedy -- very much. Maybe we're all just waiting. It will end soon, and when it's over, Michael will go home, right?

6. There's a film that focuses on each year of Hall of Fame inductees. I find myself liking everybody. (Well, I couldn't care less about ZZ Top, but other than that...) I was sitting next to a lady who sang along with each clip. It was annoying, but I realized that if the audience was bursting with sing-along people, it would have been cool. Only one clip drew applause: Led Zeppelin. One clip elicited a mass "aw": The Jackson Five. I became conscious of how much I want Michael Jackson to be acquitted.

7. In front of a case full of Elvis memorabilia, a parent took it upon himself to translate Elvis to his 9-year-old daughter. They were gazing on a classic Elvis-in-Vegas costume.

DAD: When he started wearing these white jumpsuits that was kind of weird.

GIRL: That was awesome!

I loved that. I mean, us older folk assume we know that Elvis went wrong when he put on the white jumpsuit. But here's this girl, and she's correcting her dad. She thinks she knows. She's grounded in some new world. And there, the suit is awesome.

"I love guitar. Oh, God. I mean, you know -- Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Buffett . . ."

That's John Kerry talking to Rolling Stone. I just don't know what to say about that juxtaposition. Many years ago--in the 1970s--I went to a concert and Jimmy Buffett was the opening act. I tried to sit it out, but I couldn't. I got up and walked out into the fluorescent-lit, concrete lobby and paced around with nothing to do. I can't remember what it was about Buffett that was so distinctly intolerable to me. The attitude? The patter? In any case, I've never listened to the man since then. (I go to his restaurant.)