“People, Hell & Angels” is 50-odd minutes of previously unreleased Jimi Hendrix. What more can or should I say?
“Back at the saloon my tears mix and mildew with my drink / I can’t really tell my feet from the stardust [sawdust?] on the floor / But as far as I know they may try to wrap me in cellophane and sell me.”
Picture, say, Barry Manilow singing that and prepare to get more than a little creeped out. But lines like the one above (in this case from “Somewhere,” the record’s second track) are what you’ve come to expect from Hendrix, sung, of course, in his instantly recognizable Doppler-effect-talk-sing-hepcat-jive intonation.
And that’s exactly what “People, Hell & Angels” has to offer – along with all of the wah-wah and feedback-driven guitar from which you could ever hope to develop TMJ while mouth-mimicking.
But don’t make the mistake of thinking you’ve got this record all figured out before you even give it a listen or two. When these recordings took place between 1968 and his death in 1970, Hendrix was exploring new band members (e.g., Stephen Stills plays bass guitar on “Somewhere”) and new sounds. And it shows.
Hendrix brings saxman Lonnie Youngblood on to sing and blow on the straight-ahead soul jam “Let Me Move You,” while Juma Sultan and Jerry Velez infuse highlights like “Bleeding Heart” and “Izabella” with subtle conga grooves.
On the instrumental “Easy Blues,” Hendrix and his crew even delve into some bona fide hard bop fusion as Jimi coaxes out howling improv with tasteful support from Larry Lee’s understated rhythm guitar and Billy Cox’s strutting bass. Imagine what the “A Tribute to Jack Johnson” sessions would’ve sounded like if Miles Davis had forgotten to bring his trumpet to work.
A lot of fuss has been made over these songs’ “never before released, from the vault” status, but that’s not entirely the truth. Several of these tracks have appeared on past posthumous Hendrix compilations, but often from different takes or with other musicians’ silly, unnecessary overdubs.
For example, “Earth Blues,” one of the record’s most exhilarating tracks, previously appeared on 1971’s “Rainbow Bridge,” but this cleaned-up and slightly abridged version is all of the foundational movement upon which Hendrix’s aural dais was erected with none of the frantic activity that plagues the “Rainbow” version.
We’ve all pondered over what kind of stuff Jimi would be putting out if he were still ticking. (Here’s betting he would’ve mellowed into one of the coolest 70-year-old cats on the block.) And at some points, listening to “People, Hell & Angels” serves as a sobering reminder of the fact that he’s no longer around for us to find out.
But if 70-year-old Hendrix is what Mother Earth needs right now, a handful of artifacts from 27-year-old Hendrix are at the very least what She deserves. It’s like Chaucer said: “For bet[ter] than no Jimi is any Jimi at all.”
