Jimi Hendrix at 70: What Did We Miss?
We could have ended the Cold War, dammit.
Of course as with Janis, Jim, Kurt, and the rest, we didn't get to see the nasty downsides of fame: The rehabs, the arrests, the bankruptcies, the Pepsi commercials, the neon sport coats, the processed drums, the synth-harmonicas, the mullets, and the Grammy appearances.
Mind you, I am also the guy who daydreams about Freddie Mercury getting into Twitter fights with Lady Gaga, John Lennon and Thurston Moore starting a supergroup, GG Allin's reality show on A&E, and Tupac Shakur sitcoms on ABC.
By now Jimi could either be sporting the most fantastic wig of all-time, or going sleek and chic like Isaac Hayes. Imagine him doped up on religion with Bob Dylan, and putting down the guitar for a gospel pulpit.
"I tell ya I tell ya, I used to be all 'Hey Joe' but now I'm all 'Hey God!' I used to be stone free, but now I am trying to be sin-free!" he would howl, pounding and sweating on a church stage, before playing a great version of "Swing Low Sweet Chariot" that would get everyone pregnant.
That's assuming that he wouldn't have taken a shine to crack or something in the '80s, and be in jail for stabbing Phil Spector to death. Bravo.
For all we know, in an alternate universe he could be playing a smaller venue like Arena Theatre on that revolving stage too.
"Dude, he didn't even play 'Crosstown Traffic.' Shit sucked," you would squeal on Twitter to your friends.
(Chuck Berry, the man who invented rock and roll, played Nutty Jerry's in Winnie a few years back. That's not a knock on Jerry's as a venue, just a comment on how we treat our pioneers in their twilight. Berry's live performance notwithstanding.)
I wouldn't care what or where Hendrix played as long as he played "Red House" real loud and dirty.