With the recent release of Lishy Lou and Lucky Too, Lucky Diaz and the Family Jam Band continue their run of bright and poppy kids music for the 21st century.
And so, as often happens when I get these "How I Got Here" essays, I was a bit surprised when I got Diaz's recollection of discovering Are You Experienced by The Jimi Hendrix Experience -- was I expecting something shinier, I don't know. But I think one of the lessons I'm learning in doing these is that context is everything, and it doesn't take a lot for a piece of music to change your life.
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One
of the most vivid days of my childhood -- I believe it was a crisp early evening
1989, and for California, about as Fall as it gets -- I was riding my bike home
from a friend's house. In my back pocket was a Maxwell cassette tape (yes, I
know let's all spare each other the- ‘man I'm so old comment’…) with the words
"Are You Experienced" scribbled on it. My friend Ben had given it to
me. He told me it was a guy named Jimi Hendrix and that I had to listen to him.
Ben, already obsessed, had pilfered it from his father's pile of amazing
cassettes and LP's which included Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac, and the Beatles, among
other epic things I had no clue about yet.
At
the time, I thought very little about the tape, and to be honest, it must have
laid on my nightstand for a couple of days. At this point, I had been learning
the guitar for about a year. I was obsessed with Chuck Berry, Stevie Ray
Vaughn, Eric Clapton, and just about every guitar hero ever to roam the earth.
Ironically, I was unaware of the greatest guitar slinger all. The man that
defined the term.
I
had heard the name Jimi Hendrix before, from my second cousin, April, who our
family affectionately coined La Cuckoo.
La Cuckoo was older than me by about ten or so years. As a young child, I
remember her wearing a tie-dye shirt that sported Jimi Hendrix's iconic image. I
once asked her who it was and she told me, Jim Hendrix. I said, "Who's
that?" To which she replied, “One day he will blow your mind.”
My
8-year-old self had shrugged it off. I already didn't trust La Cuckoo. She once
promised to make me a clown for Halloween. The memory of screaming my head off
in horror as she spun me around to see myself in the mirror, only to discover
that she instead painted me up to be Gene Simmons from KISS was still fresh.
But I digress…