Jimi Hendrix: Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision

Dyed-in-the-wool cynics, Jimi Hendrix fans or not, may well perceive Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision as a thinly-veiled means to camouflage the reality that the late guitar hero's vault may have been archived to its fullest possible extent. But the film at the heart of the collection acts as a prism of sorts, shedding so different a light on the multi-faced music of Hendrix music, the (over) familiarity of the content allows for new perspectives on the creative process and the end results.

Readily available in a variety of other forms, including the misshapen Alan Douglas reworking that is Voodoo Soup (MCA, 1995) as well as the Experience Hendrix package First Rays of the New Rising Sun (Experience Hendrix/sony Music, 2010), the incremental crystallization of songs depicted in in the track sequence renders the music more representative of the late rock icon's talent, emblematic ("Drifting") or not ("Belly Button Window"), of his overall style.

In the timeline of recording, for instance, the two takes of "Tune X"/"Just Came In" become the aural equivalent of time-elapsed photography when the fully-formed "In From The Storm" appears a month or so later. Minute new details may pique the curiosity (or ire) of only the most steadfast Hendrix followers, but, in the context of this package, this music engenders thoughts of the concentration necessary to bring creative impulses to fruition in the midst of the construction of the Electric Lady Studios.

After all, the 'West Coast Seattle Boy''s life at this point was hectic aplenty already, what with touring to generate the funds necessary to record more than a minor intrusion on the studio mindset (plus more distractions from manager Michael Jeffery's brainstorms like the Rainbow Bridge enterprise).

But as the timeline for the recording resource unfolds through the film Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision, the man's continuous passion to create suggests the realization of his concept seems a work of destiny, especially in light of the early tug-of-war of ideas wherein the concept for a nightclub morphed into that of a recording studio).

Intentionally or not, the film mirrors the fitful pace. Still, the continuity of the narrative is all the more impressive given the paucity of real-time photos or video capturing the process (would that more forward-thinking had been applied to Hendrix' career at this time). Moving haltingly from technical minutiae to delineation of the varied personnel involved in the project, the roster of personnel brings to mind the cliche about 'too many cooks in the kitchen': the litany of those involved ranges from engineers Eddie Gomez and Mark Kramer and Dave Palmer to tour manager Gerry Stickells and his sound counterpart Mike Neal to studio manager Linda Sharlin,

Yet given the varied perspectives—and the often conflicting agendas therein—viewers' minds may boggle at the possibilities if everyone involved had been pulling in the same direction as the artist. Needless to say, cross purposes did abound, so it's a positive irony indeed to witness how the curators of the archive at Experience Hendrix nevertheless adopt a distinctly focused approach with the deluxe box set.

What might otherwise seem merely a retread of previously available content—here in 5LP+Blu-ray and 3CD+Blu- ray editions (plus digital)—this collection places special focus on twenty newly-mixed recordings in 5.1 surround sound, including all seventeen tracks Jimi Hendrix intended to comprise his fourth studio album. To that end, a soft-bound book featuring historical info, plus song-by-song recording details, complements the cinematic content devoted to a Hendrix project that took a year to complete (and actually came to fruition right around the time of the man's passing); the striking design of those forty-eight pages extends to the glossy finish of the slipcase enclosing it and the disc holder, embossed front and back..

Near the conclusion of the near ninety-minutes directed by biographer/archivist John McDermott (falling in and out of a borderline pedestrian pace), there's a somewhat abrupt transition from the accounts of the flowering of Electric Lady Studios into a going concern: in addition to Jimi Hendrix himself, other artists using the facilities were as disparate as Carly Simon and Lena Horne.

Leading inexorably into the final days of Hendrix' life and the conflicting stories thereof, those passages ring with a palpable melancholy, especially since the release of A Jimi Hendrix Vision occurs almost to the day of Hendrix' death in September 1970. Yet this denouement, understated as it is, posits Electric Lady Studios as a tangible addition to (and in the broadest sense a reflection of) the ongoing concern that is the studio operation itself.

Its subsequent renovation and continued usage highlights yet another facet of the towering legacy of Hendrix as a creative soul. In a freewheeling and inclusive mode, the late guitar icon spent months working as assiduously on the material itself as its recording. Photos in the book depict the studio in construction while the earliest work took place, but also upon completion of the prolonged sequence of events; such images form an implicit segue to hearing the thirty-nine audio tracks in the Jimi Hendrix Vision package.

Even without some of the latter audio effects, the ear-grabbing Eddie Kramer stereo mix of "Earth Blues" is indicative not only of the engineer's technical expertise, but his predilection for experimentation, one no doubt nurtured by his long-time association with this unceasingly imaginative artist. The clarity and immediacy of sound benefits the graceful "Angel:" a reminder that some of the author's most distinctive compositions were his ballads.

This particular version arrives sans the percussion drummer Mitch Mitchell added later on (for The Cry Of Love (Reprise, 1971) and thereby accentuates rather than denies his deserved reputation as a rocker. The coupling of "Bolero" with "Hey Baby (New Rising Sun)" is evidence of how (more rather than less) legitimate it was to title the LP-in-progress after the latter number.

Meanwhile, the October 1970 take of "Room Full of Mirrors"—carrying a similar sentiment of introspective revelation—is just one instance in which Buddy Miles' drums were retained from Band of Gypsys work of roughly a year earlier, prior to Electric Lady's opening. Parsing to that granular level may seem a crass means of generating appeal for this music, particularly to the novice Jimi Hendrix fan (plus the corollary long-standing follower).

The fact of the matter is, however, that the work of the man who once backed Little Richard and the Isley Brothers simultaneously compels and rewards such attention to detail, a perspective Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision reaffirms in deceptively emphatic terms.

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