Because it’s FriÂday, we have a treat for you: a recentÂly unearthed take of Jimi HenÂdrix ripÂping through a song called “SomeÂwhere,” with Band of GypÂsies drumÂmer BudÂdy Miles and Stephen Stills (of CSNY) on bass. Released last NovemÂber to mark the 70th anniverÂsary of Hendrix’s birth, this track will be includÂed on a 12-song album of preÂviÂousÂly unreÂleased HenÂdrix recordÂings from 1968–69 called PeoÂple, Hell & Angels, comÂing in earÂly March.
“SomeÂwhere” has appeared before, on the 2000 box-set monÂeyÂmakÂer The Jimi HenÂdrix ExpeÂriÂence and a hit-and-miss 2003 douÂble-disc of cuts called Axis OutÂtakes (culled from the Axis: Bold as Love SesÂsions). The preÂviÂous release, howÂevÂer, was a difÂferÂent take, a blues-rock demo made priÂor to ElecÂtric LadyÂland. RecordÂed earÂly in 1968, with Mitch Mitchell adding drums in ’71, two years after Hendrix’s death, the othÂer verÂsion is nothÂing to write home about, frankly, with a defÂiÂnite demo feel—exploratory, but someÂwhat uninÂspirÂing proÂducÂtion, although the ideas are there (lisÂten to it here).
The verÂsion above is anothÂer aniÂmal: it bursts out of the gate in full breakÂdown, then the drums recede, HenÂdrix rides the descendÂing rhythm line in a long, expecÂtant pause, and when the rhythm kicks back in, he wails and wahs his way into a tight verse, puncÂtuÂatÂed with bursts of his blues fills and Miles’s conÂfiÂdent snare cracks. Stephen Stills’ bass playÂing holds up to anyÂthing Noel RedÂding or BilÂly Cox conÂtributed to Hendrix’s ensemÂbles. Between each verse, HenÂdrix explodes into the wild solo runs he’s known for. It’s a real gem, and the lyriÂcal conÂtent perÂfectÂly capÂtures the street-levÂel, and SouthÂeast Asia-ground-levÂel, hosÂtilÂiÂty, fear, and frusÂtraÂtion of the late sixÂties:
Oh uh,
I see finÂgers, hands and shades of faces,
Reachin up and not quite touchÂin the promised land,
I hear pleas and prayers and a desÂperÂate whisÂper sayin,
Whoa Lord, please give us a helpin hand,
Yeah yeah
Way down in the backÂground,
I can see frusÂtratÂed souls of cities burnin,
And all across the water vapor,
I see weapons barkin out the stamp of death,
And up in the clouds I can imagÂine UFO’s jumpin themÂselves,
LaughÂin they sayin,
Those peoÂple so uptight, they sure know how to make a mess
Back in the saloon my tears mix and mildew with my drink,
I can’t realÂly tell my feet from the stones on the floor,
But as far as I know, they may even try to wrap me up in celÂloÂphane and sell me
BrothÂers help me, and dont worÂry about lookin at the storm
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
HenÂdrix was right. They did wrap him up and sell him.
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian. He recentÂly comÂpletÂed a disÂserÂtaÂtion on land, litÂerÂaÂture, and labor.