Have you ever been to Electric Ladyland? Well, John wants to show you each track on this expansive double album which was released on this day 56 years ago.
…And The Gods Made Love
Not so much a song, more a psychedelic maelstrom of slowed down voices and sound effects. At less than a minute, its only function is to serve as a weird curtain raiser for what’s in store. As for the title, it’s less gods making love – sounding more like two tumble driers having a quickie in a broom cupboard.
(Have You Ever Been To) Electric Ladyland
The album starts proper with this awesome title track. The website Allmusic features an astute review by Matthew Greenwald, who likens it to Curtis Mayfield. Hendrix’s lead and backing vocals sound decidedly Curtis-like, and add much appeal to the dreamy psychedelic soul.
Electric Ladyland is said to have taken inspiration from Hendrix being a bit of a ladies man. However, this didn’t extend to the infamous cover photo taken by David Montgomery of 19 naked women, which is said to have taken Hendrix by surprise, with the guitar wizard allegedly expressing initial displeasure at the image. Later pressings swapped the photo for a more generic close up photo of Hendrix, which has remained the standard cover image to this day.
Crosstown Traffic
Electric Ladyland spawned no less than five hit singles, each one with varying degrees of success. Crosstown Traffic – released in Spring 1969 – was a surprise, as it only reached number 37 in the UK. For what it’s worth, I think it’s better than All Along The Watchtower, but I’ll come to that later.
While it has its roots in proto metal, in a weird way, Crosstown Traffic sounds a bit like a forerunner to Madness. I think it’s the extensive use of the piano in the verses – maybe the band should cover it one day. It’s also charmingly home grown, with Hendrix mocking up an improvised kazoo with a comb and tissue paper. A highlight of the album – a shame it didn’t do better in the charts.
Voodoo Chile
A common question posed about double albums is whether they would work better as a single album. One potential drawback is that some double albums contain their fair share of filler, not really adding much to the LP’s overall flow. Of course, it’s all a matter of taste – but when it comes to overlong snoozeathons like Voodoo Chile, maybe the doubters have a point.
On the plus side, I don’t have a quarrel with the quality of the musicianship, which is as impeccable as ever. In addition to Hendrix’s superlative guitar work, you have special guests Steve Winwood going nuts on the organ and Jefferson Airplane’s Jack Casady providing some suitably moody bass. However, I can’t get past the length of Voodoo Chile, which clocks in at just under an exhausting 15 minutes. Hendrix and co seem to be enjoying the session far more than I did, making it seem like a self-indulgent precursor to Jools Holland’s Later tedium. If it had been substantially cut down by at least half its running time, I would have liked Voodoo Chile a lot more. As it is, I just went to sleep.
Little Miss Strange
The obligatory Jimi Takes A Break interlude. Mind you, after all that Voodoo Chile jamming, he’d need it.
Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell take the joint lead vocals on this spangly ditty, which kicks off the second side (the best of the four, in me humble). It’s a fun bit of summery late ’60s pop with great use of the acoustic guitar driving it along.
Long Hot Summer Night
The fun in the sun continues with this gem. I don’t know how Hendrix arrived at the woozy descending chord changes, but they slot in perfectly. Along with the title track, Hendrix provided the backing vocals for this one himself.
It was surprising to read that Jimi had insecurities about the strength of his voice, and was said to scuttle behind studio screens in order to lay down the vocals. He may have been one of the finest guitar genii of our time, but Hendrix was by no means a slouch in the vocals department either.
Come On
Electric Ladyland’s roots vary from psychedelic rock to straight-ahead pop, but one genre that sticks out is blues.
Not only are there extended bluesy guitar workouts, Hendrix also covers Earl King, who was a key member of New Orleans R&B royalty. King’s Come On was also covered by the likes of Freddie King and Stevie Ray Vaughan, but this is a decent version, taking the album back to its core essentials.
Gypsy Eyes
The last single taken from the album, Gypsy Eyes was released posthumously in 1971, and again, could only manage a Number 37 position on the UK charts. Maybe most folks had the album by now, so didn’t need to buy the single.
Gypsy Eyes continues the blues inspiration, but cannily makes the most of recording technology from around this time. The overdubbed guitars work really well, as does the strange phasing effect, which was becoming a common occurrence in late ’60s records. It does make Jimi sound like he’s singing through an empty teapot, but it’s a welcome innovation.
The down side of the immaculate production is that Hendrix’s perfectionism wore down producer Chas Chandler. Gypsy Eyes was tried out around 50 times, which is enough to make any sane producer collapse into a sobbing ball behind the mixing desk. To add further woes, Hendrix credited himself as the producer of the album, when the former Animals bassist had still helmed a fair amount of the tracks.
Burning Of The Midnight Lamp
Oddly, Lamp was released as a single way about a year and a bit before Electric Ladyland hit the shops. Come to think of it, this 45 was also released before Ladyland’s predecessor, Axis: Bold As Love. While its position of Number 18 in the UK charts is still better than Gypsy Eyes and Crosstown Traffic, it was still a lesser performer than the likes of Hey Joe and The Wind Cries Mary, which had gone Top 10.
Midnight Lamp is a funny mix of psychedelic rock, blues, soul and gospel. It hangs together well though. It’s drenched in 1967 production values, and unusually features backing cooing from session singers The Sweet Inspirations, whose other clients included Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett.
Rainy Day, Dream Away
The sun’s gone down, which is par for the course in your average British Summer. After a week or so being fried like a chicken thigh on a barbecue, Brits usually end up trudging around miserably in shorts and Jesus sandals in the middle of a downpour.
I suppose Rainy Day, Dream Away is a bit of a trudge with that in mind, taking laconic to a whole new level. It’s perfectly pleasant, but by no means the most memorable on the album. Which is strange, given that it features more great session musicianship from saxophonist Freddie Smith, organist Mike Finnigan and drummer Buddy Miles.
And it’s not the last you’ve heard of this one either.
1983… (A Merman I Should Turn To Be)
Again, it’s the curse of the lengthy jam. In its extensive 13-odd minute length, Hendrix didn’t manage to predict the dominance of the mullet or Wham, but he did manage to muse on the damage being inflicted on the planet. Here, he contemplates a more tranquil existence as a merman in the sea – away from all the smog and concrete jungles.
This is the more palatable of the two extended jams on Electric Ladyland, although in an ideal world, it would be shorter. That’s just my taste though. I have the attention span of a gnat, so any composition over 10 minutes was always going to be an uphill struggle. This hippy classic is still well executed though, boasting some sterling Hendrix guitar work and some interesting diversions, such as a flute cameo from Steve Winwood’s Traffic chum, Chris Wood.
Moon, Turn The Tides… Gently Gently Away
Maaaan…
More hippy sound effect noodling. A very brief soundtrack for lentil-guzzling stoners and Just Stop Oil irritants.
Still Raining, Still Dreaming
Experiencing some deja vu? We’re back to the Side Three opener for some more dreamy downpours. Which again raises the question of whether double albums represent value for money. Electric Ladyland does have more highs than lows, but its potential is dragged down by the occasional bit of repetition. There’s nothing new here – just a plodding retread of its superior twin. If you cut down 1983, got rid of Voodoo Chile and this, you’d probably just about fit it all onto one album.
House Burning Down
After the stoned complacency of the rainy dreaming stuff, Hendrix snaps you awake with a bang – literally. This is a good return to form, a dramatic, organ-driven heavy rock fire engine that powers through like a machine.
While Electric Ladyland proved to be a critical success, it only stayed in the UK album charts for an original run of 12 weeks in the Winter of 1968/1969. American fans took to the album much more, keeping it in the Billboard charts for just over three times as long, for 37 weeks. Plus, it reached Number One!
All Along The Watchtower
On the subject of chart positions, Watchtower did very well when released as a single, storming to Number Five in the UK charts.
It’s not my favourite by any means though, although that’s my fault, being a Bob Dylan refusenik. Apart from the fact that Dylan sounds like Otto the bus driver from The Simpsons, I’ve never liked his songs much, finding them a tad dreary.
Mind you, give Hendrix some credit. At least he manages to inject some life into what would otherwise be a snail-paced tedium parcel. His guitar work is as stellar as ever, coaxing new and innovative techniques out of the axe. I’ve always thought that the weird groaning effect in the instrumental break sounds like the guitar equivalent of a world championship gurner.
Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)
The album ends on a high with this much more agreeable version of the earlier overlong jam. It went all the way to Number One in the UK – maybe as a result of Hendrix’s premature death earlier in 1970. But taken on its own merits, the slimmed down version of Voodoo Chile has much to recommend it – sterling guitar work, as ever, from the man himself. It’s also pre-empting 1970s funk with that classic wah-chicka-wah-wah sound that Hendrix creates.
While it does have its issues, Electric Ladyland still has more going for it than against. If you’re like me, skip the long stuff and you may find that it’s one of the most perfect 1960s single albums that never was.
(Cover photo credited to Karl Ferris)
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