Jimi Hendrix – The Cry of Love & Rainbow Bridge (1971)

From glidemagazine.com

Despite the fact all the numbers on Jimi Hendrix’ The Cry of Love  and Rainbow Bridge have been issued in different contexts many times in the past, it’s tribute to the lasting power within the music that, sans historical content or additional numbers, the (re)issue of  these titles on vinyl and CD (the latter for the first time), inspires some provocative thoughts.

Foremost of which is that the late guitar icon might well have benefited by an objective third party in the role of co-producer, similar to that of  his original mentor, former Animals bassist Chas Chandler. In contrast to the ultra-commercial approach Hendrix’ manager Michael Jeffery oversaw for  their initial posthumous releases in the wake of the guitar icon’s untimely demise (under the aegis of engineer Eddie Kramer and drummer Mitch Mitchell),  a single powerhouse album might be derived from a pared down assembly of these nineteen tracks. This strategy was recorded in the last years of Jimi’s life, as a project conceived as a double album called First Rays of the New Rising Sun.

The hypothetical sequence would exclude “Belly Button Window,” a clever idea, but non-essential as is “Astro Man,” a nod to Hendrix’ fondness for comic book heroes that sounds like nothing but a throwaway. Likewise too informal for its own good is “My Friend,” otherwise well-intentioned as a riposte to hangers-on. “Look Over Yonder” sounds like a mere re-write of “House Burning Down” from Electric Ladyland, while the studio version of “Star Spangle Banner” is redundant pure and simple given the live version from Woodstock is regarded as definitive.“Dolly Dagger” and “Earth Blues” sound incomplete, the former in particular half-baked, but the latter not much less so even with its topical bent. And “Straight Ahead” is superfluous given the keepers from the collection of tracks spread over two CDs.

“Freedom” alone renders that aforementioned tune redundant in both its chord patterns and theme, the latter re-enforced via Jimi’s use of the third-person for “Ezy Ryder.” Yet those songs derive directly from “In From the Storm” and “Room Full of Mirrors,” statements of deliverance and redemption, not to mention templates for slashing hard rock riffing. On the other end of the dynamic spectrum, there’s the ever so delicate likes of “Drifting” and “Angel,” quiet expressions of patience and optimism, the corollary of which is “Night Bird Flying,” Jimi’s objectification of the expectant state of mind this hypothetical album symbolizes; the Bernie Grundman remastering  reveals  guitars layered  in all their glorious detail here and on the instrumental “Pali Gap:” jazz-rock fusion years before the germination of the genre, it proceeds directly from the exploratory approach Hendrix took in the studio and on stage at this juncture of his career.

The resounding bottom in this mix comes to the fore prominently in this eleven-minute live rendition of ”Hear My Train A Comin’” (actually an excerpt from one of the best modern day archives releases, Live at Berkeley), reaffirmation of how ideal for Hendrix was his latter-day rhythm partnership. Mitch Mitchell’s drum patterns echoed the detail of the guitar, which only rendered indispensable the stalwart presence of Billy Cox’ and his comparatively simple bass lines as anchor for his comrades. Mitchell and Cox are the constants of multiple personnel appearing on The Cry of Love and Rainbow Bridge, the conclusion of which, “Hey Baby (New Rising Sun)” is a tranquil yet purposeful declaration of  Hendrix’ direction both personally and creatively .

If it seems fatuous to render obsolete almost half the tracks on these two discs, consider the arbitrary placement of these same cuts in previous collections. Programmed with this logic, these recordings bring to resounding fruition the emotional power of the songs, the depth of impact  few of Jimi Hendrix’ contemporaries (or subsequent progeny) could match.

Jimi Hendrix Rainbow Bridge (1971)

From amazon.com

This second posthumous Jimi Hendrix release may be viewed as hastily-stitched, spanning two years of mostly not-quite-completed recordings in various studios plus a lengthy live extrapolation. But incredibly, no other Hendrix platter, excepting perhaps “Electric Ladyland”, offers a more comprehensive representation of Jimi’s virtuosity. Moreover, this doesn’t even feel slapdash.

Sonically, “Rainbow Bridge” is fuller than anything he had released in his lifetime, again possibly not including “Electric Ladyland”. And therein lied his artistry. Hot guitar licks and riffs are in abundance here and every one of them coheres. Even the imperfect endings on a few numbers, which Hendrix would have dubbed over before official release, work. Unlike “The Cry of Love”, lyrics are primarily kept as subtext here. The concentration is Hendrix’s electric guitar.

The two opening cuts, the single “Dolly Dagger” and “Earth Blues” are both powerful funk and blues workouts. Backing vocals, courtesy of the Ghetto Fighters and the Ronettes respectively, give these songs added dimension to Hendrix’s voice. Both tracks offer personal overtones. He knew that Dolly Dagger real well.

Instrumentals were not prevalent in the Hendrix canon, but here we’re blessed with two great ones. On “Pali Gap”, Hendrix plays sensuously suffused with warmth and it proves to be gorgeous. His studio rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” is radically different than his Woodstock performance. Here its presence is much more august with little of the anger that permeated that classic live cut. Astonishly, this version has his guitar(s) sounding more like Garth Hudson whipping out synthesizers and horns. What an extraordinary feat!

Hendrix’s bottleneck playing comes to the fore on “Room Full of Mirrors” and he somehow manages to approximate the paranoia of this track. The origin of this wry rumination stems from his May 1969 Toronto drug bust. The sound is actually quite frightening as it seems to blurt out this situation to the public. And Hendrix was more a private man offstage.

Side two begins with that explosion of guitars that greets “Look Over Yonder”, this album’s oldest cut circa 1968. It’s a blues performed as adrenaline rush. As with “Electric Ladyland”, he seems to be opening up another world. The falsetto vocalizing, incidentally, provides extra fire.

The closer is “Hey Baby (Land of the New Rising Sun)”, one of his most beautiful soundscapes. More than almost any song in his ouevre, this could have worked in the symphonic setting that he often discussed for his future. It’s that lovely. The structure of the song builds up with minor chords and switches to major in the body of the track. It’s so effectively simple. Lyrically, he dabbles in science-fiction and the imagery dissects escape. That female alien takes him worlds away from earth. And his falsetto towards the end adds to the spiritual desperation of chancing it elsewhere.

And then there’s that live cut sandwiched in between. It’s singularly his most perfect live performance from May 1970 at Berkeley. I, for one, regard this as the most stunning achievement of rock improvisation. In this eleven minute-plus blues epic, there’s not a second that doesn’t belong. By this time in his career, he was playing with Billy Cox on bass and drummer Mitch Mitchell (his greatest support). It’s virtuosity played with dynamic passion, a real rare combination in rock. Mark my words, we’re very fortunate to have this piece of music.

Heaven knows what additional editing that Hendrix, a renowned perfectionist, would have planned. Just like on “The Cry of Love”, he was breaking away from psychedelia and transitioning to more earthbound territory combined with spiritual awakening. And his musical changes seemed to mirror his expanding consciousness. As always, Hendrix was a complete master of his instrument and he established his imprint on all of these songs. His musicianship is an unflawed listening of blues, funk and jazz. But I suspect that it was mostly the blues that remained in his veins until his death. This package is just further confirmation that his passing was perhaps the greatest loss to shaken up the rock world. For the record, so to speak, the Motion Picture that bears the same name stinks.

Jimi Hendrix Rainbow Bridge (1971)

From Blogcritics.org

Rainbow Bridge was released in October of 1971 and was the second album of left over studio tracks to be issued following Jimi Hendrix’ death. The tracks contained on this album, when combined with those on his previously released The Cry Of Love, completed the finished songs that were to be released on Hendrix’ planned, but ultimately unfinished, double album.

These songs were played with his last group of musicians: bassist Billy Cox and drummer Mitch Mitchell. While Mitchell and Cox had only been playing together for a few months, they seemed a good fit and Hendrix appeared comfortable with this combination.

Mitch Mitchell and Eddie Kramer produced the album, as they had done with The Cry Of Love, and reached a little a little deeper into the Hendrix catalogue of unreleased material.

“Dolly Dagger” leads off the album and is a strong track. It is a thundering and literally overwhelming rock song. Hendrix produced a guitar sound that just comes at the listener in waves and assaults the senses. I have to say, I prefer the Woodstock live version of the “Star Spangled Banner” to the one contained here. “Earth Blues,” “Hey Baby” and the creative “Room Full Of Mirrors” all show Hendrix exploring new musical directions.

There were only six new studio tracks available so Mitchell and Kramer added a rousing live version of “Hear My Train A Comin’” which was performed at a Berkeley concert on May 30, 1970 and “Look Over Yonder” which was recorded in 1968.

Rainbow Bridge was an album of very good individual parts that did not really hang together as a whole. The album was another big seller reaching gold record status. While it is now out of print, all the tracks can be found on the CD release, First Rays Of The New Rising Sun.

Hendrix In The West was released February 12, 1972. The eight tracks contained on this live album were taken from concerts recorded in 1969 and 1970. Three songs featured the original Jimi Hendrix Experience and the other five the Mitchell/Cox combination.

“Red House” at thirteen minutes and “Voodoo Chile” at close to eight minutes gave Hendrix room to stretch and improvise. “Red House,” in particular, shows Hendrix’ brilliance of exploring a songs structure without completely leaving it. Interestingly these are two of the tracks that feature the original Experience.

I have always liked Hendrix’ presentation of the two rock classics “Johnny B. Goode” and “Blue Suede Shoes.” Move over Chuck Berryand Carl Perkins. Hendrix is true to the structure of the songs but his guitar sound and improvisation add layers and new textures to these familiar tunes.

Hendrix In The West is another album of excellent parts. The songs are pieced together from four different performances and so tend to be mini concerts in themselves. Each song should be appreciated as they present Jimi Hendrix at his best.

Jimi Hendrix: Rainbow Bridge (1971)

From Rollingstone.com

Ahh, a surprise — more Hendrix in the studio. Of late a lot of inconcert Hendrix has surfaced; the full-side each on the Woodstock sets, the Isle of Wight performance on Columbia’s Rock Festivals set, the in-concert movie of Hendrix at Berkeley, as well as an English in-concert film with an accompanying soundtrack LP.

But Hendrix on stage and Hendrix in the studio are two animals of pretty divergent cellular structure. His later concerts involved a lot of extended instrumental jamming, as well as demonstrating his total mastery not only of the guitar, but of all its electronic accomplices like wah-wah pedals, fuzz tones, and reverb amps — he was able to recreate on stage most of the effects that were born in the studio. His knowledge of the electronic technology was amazing, and he utilized it to stretch the limits of sound experience — a tape-mixing console would definitely have to be listed as one of the instruments he was proficient on. He wasn’t into effect for gimmick value alone — it was always a part of a larger tapestry, and many of the innovations he made early use of (like track-panning, where the guitar swoops back and forth from channel to channel) are now standard procedure in album mixing. So, a Hendrix studio album showcases more than just his music alone — it’s his music in a special electronic frame, custom cut to size.

But, Rainbow Bridge (Reprise MS2040) is billed as a “sound track album,” so the question arises, what is a sound track? Is it an aural footpath? A mere vibration trail? Or the coalesced imaginings of an astral projectionist? In most cases, sound track albums seem designed as take-home souvenirs of a media experience, relying on deja-vu and memory flashes to recreate visceral emotions in the privacy of your head; it serves as a psychic tap, reopening emotions planted by the original cinematic experience.

With this album, that’s not how it is, but just in case you care, here’s where you can drive the first piton in your attempt on the summit of the understanding of the place of this album in the cosmic scheme of things; it’s the music heard in a movie that you may never ever see.

Rainbow Bridge has been billed as a “spiritual candy store” — it’s a cinema verite-styled exploration of aspects of one woman’s metaphysical searchings — which include scenes at the Rainbow Bridge Occult Center in Maui, as well as a Hendrix concert on the side of a volcano. Apparently, aside from the concert, Hendrix appears only briefly in the flick, doing a surreal rap, parts of which are reprinted with a high degree of illegibility on the inside of the jacket. At last report the film had been only shown once in England (reviewers were puzzled, to say the least), and as yet has no distributor — so it may not be seen for a long, long time. But that’s cool, the album exists as an entity all by itself. My suggestion would be to listen to it and then make up your own movie — it’ll probably be a lot more relevant to what you’re up to anyway.

The album opens with “Dolly Dagger,” a track that was billed as the next Hendrix single at the time of his death (it is now indeed a single). It’s based on a typical Hendrix rhythm riff and sawtooth rising chorus — “She’s so heavy she’ll make you stagger … she drinks her blood from the jagged edge “— a tale of a warp-nine chick told with drive and morse-code pulsing guitar lines — what a groove this would be on the highway at 3 AM! “Earth Blues” features a chorus that includes the Ronettes (the Ronettes?) — they sing a descending line of “Love, love, love” as Hendrix weaves a spacy soul version of a “we-gotta-get-it-together” lyric — this has the sound of Electric Church music that Hendrix spoke of trying to build.

“Pali Gap” is a studio cut, despite the title — it features Hendrix’s one-time mentor Juma Edwards on percussion. (Backing throughout the album is mostly just bass and drums, Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell respectively.) This is an instrumental that reflects the jazz-like explorations that Hendrix was getting into for awhile, when he was in Woodstock — it was cut July 1st, 1970, along with two other tracks included here. It flows in waves, rippling like wine running slowly down dusk-lit marble stones.

The next track, “Room Full Of Mirrors,” was written around the time of Hendrix’s Toronto bust and features Buddy Miles on drums. The overdubbed guitars swoop into glass-edged regions as Hendrix sings “I used to live in a room full of mirrors, now the whole world is there for me to see.” The first side ends with a really majestic version of the “Star Spangled Banner.” In concert this became a vehicle for commentary, as Hendrix’s guitar created the sounds of sirens, bombs and guns (in the Berkeley movie his performance is inter-cut with shots of Berkeley riots). This is an early version, utilizing only guitars, overdubbed in three or four layers. It was cut in March, 1969, and though there is anger and chaos there, it hadn’t yet become rage — this version is almost stately, you can’t help but soar a bit with it, no matter what connotations the melody has placed on you.

Side two opens with “Look Over Yonder,” the oldest track included here. Cut in October, 1968, it features the original Experience backing of Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding — it’s almost in the mode of the first album in feeling and execution. Hendrix lays down some squeaky chunks of solid rhythm before the ending growls to a swirling close.

The next track is the only live one, cut at the Memorial Day concert in Berkeley. It’s “Hear My Train A Comin’,” a number Hendrix frequently used in his last series of concerts. The chordal structure is like old blues, but Hendrix is a true Voodoo Chile, and his demons are more electric and schizophrenic than those of Robert Johnson, the great delta bluesman who in many ways can be considered Hendrix’s spiritual father. Hendrix has gained most notoriety as a complex and spaced stylist, but you shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that he was a motherfucker bluesman as well. (I remember a Midwest concert where he totally tranced out a non-blues audience with a long ballsy version of “Red House” — Hendrix plays Delta blues for sure — only the Delta may have been on Mars.)

“Hey Baby” is the final track. It’s a riff that Hendrix explored a lot in concert — simple but evocative — and filled with a pure lonesome yearning and introspection that often got squeezed out in favor of things with more flash. Hendrix plays a few choruses, then asks, “Is the microphone on?” Getting an affirmative reply, he improvises some lyrics about a love-spreading chick crossing Jupiter’s sands. It’s a benediction and a hoping at once — and proves that though Hendrix deserves every bit of acclaim he got as a tripping companion, he was also a mood spinning, afternoon back porch sitter of the mind as well. And there, almost too soon, the album ends.

In many ways this is one of Hendrix’s best albums — it’s diverse, but not a goulash. His last official album, Cry Of Love, seemed somehow hollow, populated with skeletons of ideas — structures not quite fleshed out, in two dimensions only, wavering in and out of focus in the third plane. Here they are full, and full of spirit. Though there are technical drawbacks that might have precluded their release if Hendrix lived (ragged endings, out of tune choruses, etc.), they certainly don’t detract from the essence. Hendrix was a stone perfectionist, and it’s been rumored that there are enough tracks for at least several more albums in the can — but they will probably not be released, as Hendrix wasn’t satisfied with them. There is an element of greed in all of us, and sure, I’d like to hear more — but I’d rather respect his wishes and take what he considered done en ough to let go. This album falls into that category, I believe, and is a strong addition to his legacy — not like the various “Early Hendrix” ripoffs going around, where everybody who ever taped a jam session is issuing LPs.

This is also, by the way, a fine earphone album. Some records need rooms to reverberate in, this one (as are most of his) seems to be aimed directly at the inner ear — and earphones clarify and separate the levels of the structures into the component parts.

There may be a few more concert albums yet to come, but this is probably the last of Hendrix in a studio.

And it’s late and raining, and the wine has wound its way down now — I just want to say Jimi that it’s gotten pretty gray down here since you split … and there’s a lot of Foxey Ladys lying lonely tonight. Drop in again sometime man, we all need all the help we can get.