London Symphonies - From Handel to Hendrix

I am fascinated by coincidences, nearly as much as I am fascinated by the vibrations that seem to emanate from certain buildings and places. When the two collide, it becomes a very tempting and intoxicating mix. 

One such place is the Handel Hendrix museum at 23-25 Brook Street in London West One. Separated by two hundred years and a wall, these two musical genius's were next door neighbours in space, if not time. Their residence has been transfomed into one of London's more fascinating small museums. I went for a mosey around recently. I must confess Baroque music is not one I have ever really investigated. I think everyone who has any interest at all in music will know of Handels Messiah and many of us heard his composition Zadok the Priest at the Coronation of King Charles, but we only really hear it at such occasions, unless we are buffs for the genre. 

As for Hendrix, a more modern musical genius who completely redefined the sound of the electric guitar. For me, Hendrix is a bit of an outlier in my musical tastes. I am not really a fan of heavy rock. When I was a kid, my big sister Valerie absolutely loved Jimi Hendrix. She bought a copy of Electric Ladyland on the day it came out. You can imagine the impact that had on me, but in truth, it was the cover rather than the sounds that fascinated me. It was only when I was researching for this blog, I learned that Hendrix didn't like the cover and wanted something else completely!

As a kid, I didn't really get his music though. I preferred the Ska tunes of the 1969/70 period. Hendrix seemed weird, wonderful and very exotic. Ska seemed to be the music of North London. I knew he must be pretty good, if Val liked him, but it didn't do much for me as an eight year old. 

When Hendrix passed away, I interrupted my sister and her then boyfriend, trying to hold a seance to bring Jimi back from the dead. I thought it rather odd behaviour. She was convinced that such a powerful soul could not be confined to heaven and we needed him back. Sadly God had other ideas!

She made me swear not to tell Mum and Dad. She bought Rainbow Bridge, the postumously released album. There was one track on it that fascinated me, Room full of mirrors. There was a room at The Commonwealth Institute, that had mirrors facing each other, that fascinated me and I assumed that Hendrix felt the same. When Val finally moved out, I stopped listening to Hendrix. In 1977, when I got into punk music, Jimi fell even further off my radar. That changed one day when I was meeting fellow False Dot Pete Conway for a beer at The Railway pub in West Hampstead. I'd been listening to the Jukebox and when Pete turned up, I told him that there was a brilliant track on it that he had to listen to. I accidentally put the wrong track on. It was Crosstown Traffic by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. The pub was full of punk rockers, having a beer before going to the Moonlight Club. They were all gobsmacked by the sound. It is an amazing track, and Pete was rather inspired. We had a little spell of getting into Hendrix, who was very out of vogue with the hip crowd.  It didn't bother me. Val had left Rainbow Bridge with me, so I gave it a good few spins when I got home. 

For me, bands like the Ramones and the Buzzcocks inspired me to pick up a guitar and make music. Listening to Hendrix almost made me give up. The sounds he made were so unique. His style was so easy and you had to listen to a track a hundred times to fully appreciate all of the guitar nuances. 

He was a genius without peer. I realised I could never get within a million miles of his talent. When the False Dots went on our Scandinavian tour in 1982, we found ourselves in a Henrdrix guitar master class at Pub Bastun in Aland. The guitar teacher played various tracks and then explained the tricks Hendrix used to get those sounds.  One fact that stuck with me was that he said Hendrix didn't think he could sing until he heard the recording of Hey Joe.  Andreas Gaggett of the Gaggett band, who supported us on the tour and was a good mate was also a Hendrix nut. He could talk for hours about Hendrix. I wondered if Andreas was still a fan and whether he'd visited. In the Museum, I found myself in Jimi Hendrix bedroom, restored to how it was when Jimi lived there. The air was less smokey and there was nothing on the turntable. There was a large contact sheet on the wall showing Jimi holding court in the room.

Another room had his record collection on the wall. This was the room that really fascinated me. I could spend all day looking at vunyl records. Jimi had around 100 albums in his collection. Bob Dylan being his favourite artist. Dr John was also represented as were the Beatles. There was also a good slice of Blues and Jazz artists. For me this was probably the most interesting part of the tour. There is also some wonderful memorabilia, including the first guitar Jimi played on arriving in the UK and video displays of Jimi speaking as well as some of his fans. There is one room with a large sofa, where you can watch people such as John Etheridge discussing his playing. It did remind me of the guitar class. There is an endless fascination amongst guitarists as to how you can get new and exciting sounds from your instrument. Jimi really did take this to a new level. 

I think that in some ways, Jimi was so unique and such a one off that his legacy is impossible to quantify. Many rock guitarists nick aspects of his sound and recycle some of it, but I'm not really sure that this was the soul of Jimi. On Rainbow Bridge, there is a song called The Wind Cries Mary, that to me gives a far better insight into Jimi's nature. But we will never really know.

But Jimi is only half of the museum. Handel is the other half. I'd not have gone, had Hendrix not been his co-habitee, but it was equally fascinating. There were some rather strange resonances between the two men. Both ended up in London, having been born and raised elsewhere. One of the reasons why music in the UK is still light years ahead of the rest of the world is the way we assimilate  the ideas and styles of musicians who move here. London has always been a city of immigrants and this has hugely benefitted our musical culture. I like to think we are more receptive to new ideas, new genres and crossovers. 

Handel had been raised in Germany, moving to Italy then London, where he really made his name. Handel's father was a Barber-surgeon who worked for the Royal Court. He clearly understood what made Royals tick musically. For whatever reason, Handel clearly felt more comfortable in London than elsewhere. 

His house was full of musical instruments. Unlike Jimi, who had a keen eye for the ladies, little is known of his private life, but it is known that he enjoyed good food. He reached a good age, unlike Jimi who only made 27 years. 

One similarity between Hendrix and Handel, that I'd never had appreciated, was how they were innovaters in their use of instruments. Handel clearly would play around with them to form his ideas. In some ways, he was doing the Phil Spector wall of sound two centuries before Spector coined the phrase. 

Hendrix also came to London to find his feet musically. He'd been a session player, before Chas Chandler of the Animals became his manager, at the suggestion of Linda Keith (Keith Richards girlfriend).  Chandler brought him to London and steamed him up with bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell to form the Jimi Hendrix Experience. He started hgoing out with Kathy Etchingham who he shared 23 Brooke Street with. Whenever I watch Jimi perform, the thing that really strikes me is how easy he makes doing impossibly complicated things on the guitar seem. Believe me, for most of us, it is so hard!

In Handels house there are some excellent exhibits as well as headphones which explain some of the innovations of his compositions. Although Baroque is not my thing, having some of the details of the innovative ideas in his compositions was fascinating. As a musician, it is always inspiring to get an insight into the mind of such such brilliant musicians. A thought occurred to me. He have photographs of Jimi in his room, but we can but guess as to what Handel's house was like, the wallcoverings, the tat of daily life etc. We live in a priveliged age. 

What will I remember of this video in twenty years time? I had a mildly transcendental moment as I gazed upon Jimi's bed and the guitar on it, I was transported back to Aland and that guitar class. The thought occurred to me that when I was in Aland at that time, I would never have dreamed that fourty two years later, I'd find myself in Jimi's bedroom.

London is full of small, niche museums. It reaffirmed that I do need to explore more of them. When I started the London Symphonies series, this was very much the sort of place that I envisaged being a big part of the series. London Symphonies is not about reviewing museums, it is about identifying the spirits of our city that blow in the ether. I certainly felt that my visit to the Handel Hendrix museum discovered a few of these spirits. 

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London Symphonies is a collection of vibes about London. Originally conceived as a music album by Roger Tichborne and Poet Allen Ashley, the concept has grown into a full multi media project of pictures, stories, videos and people.