hose of you old enough to have heard it when it was new will recall when you first experienced the music of Jimi Hendrix. I was 13, in 1967, when I came home after school with a friend bearing an LP of the just-released US Reprise Records pressing of . My dad had a floorstanding, monophonic record player. He’d built some of the parts of himself. Somehow, we got the output from that player plugged into my Vox guitar amplifier, the kind the Beatles used on their US tours. My parents weren’t home, and we cranked
