Jimi Hendrix: Red House, an invitation you can't refuse
- Ron Counte
- Jul 27
- 4 min read
Ron Counte
I once declined an invitation to a company conference call with the words: ‘I can’t make the meeting because I’m going round to Jimi Hendrix’s place.’
All of the business matters were instantly forgotten. It was as if I’d casually mentioned that Elvis had popped in for a cup of tea. In a music company, especially one that manufactures guitars, Jimi Hendrix is as near to a deity as it’s possible to get. I was inundated with emails asking for more information.
The facts are that in 1968 Jimi Hendrix and his girlfriend Kathy Etchingham, having just been ejected from manager Chas Chandler’s apartment for being too raucous, found a top-floor one-bedroom flat at 25 Brook Street, London, which happened to be located in the former home of composer George Frederick Handel.
Around 15 years ago the Handel Trust opened the flat to the public for a limited trial run of 10 weeks. Visiting was a bit of a disappointment because the flat was empty and the only memorabilia relating to Jimi’s occupancy that I could see was a glass ashtray. However, the cupboard and door fixtures were unmistakably those which appear in several classic photographs and videos of Jimi from the period.
Fast forward to 2025 and we paid a second visit. Now the bedroom had been lovingly restored to its 1968 decor in every detail. Wall hangings had been manufactured, furniture replicated and period artefacts obtained. They have even duplicated Jimi’s hi-fi system and album collection. There are informative displays, archive video footage, and a shop selling Hendrix merchandise. It’s open all year round and is now billed as the Handel Hendrix House.
Kathy Etchingham was involved in the restoration and her book Through Gypsy Eyes is on sale at the house and is well worth tracking down. Hendrix wrote Gypsy Eyes and The Wind Cries Mary about her (Mary is her middle name). Despite the latter track being inspired by a temporary falling out, she seems to have been a stabilising influence over him during the tumultuous years of his rise to fame.
This is not the place where the Seattle-born guitarist died, that was in Notting Hill. But the book goes into great detail about the circumstances of his death at the age of 27 and the various myths which have arisen over the years. I think it’s as near to the truth as we will ever get.
My favourite Hendrix track features, in my opinion, the greatest demonstration of electric blues guitar playing of all time. I refer to the live performance of Red House which appears on the album Hendrix In The West. It lasts a shade over 13 minutes and was recorded in San Diego in 1969 with the original Experience line-up (bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell). Jimi recorded many versions of the song but this is the standout.
Hendrix was no Home Counties wannabe locking himself in his bedroom trying to copy Robert Johnson licks. He was the real thing. The genuine article in the tradition of the great American Blues players, albeit with a modern psychedelic edge. Ironically, due to racial issues in the US at the time, it was in London that he first came to the world’s attention and became a global superstar.
Red House was written by Hendrix and follows a standard 12-bar blues format. The word Blues is a colloquialism for sadness and yet great blues songs can be incredibly uplifting. This is because the protagonist almost always triumphs over whatever adversity they are facing. So it is with Red House.
The song tells us about a guy returning home after spending ‘99 and one half days’ in prison to find that the locks had been changed and his partner had gone.
It begins with tasteful low-key instrumental passages, moments of carefully restrained sustain, and beautifully executed runs, until after two and a half minutes we arrive at the first verse.
During the verses the gaps between each vocal line are met with a variety of stunningly evocative responses from the guitar. It’s as if the instrument has assumed sentience and is in an impassioned dialogue with the vocalist. It’s remarkable just how many magnificent guitar articulations Hendrix manages to insert into this song.
At the end of the second verse we are told how things stand:
Lord I’ve got a bad, bad feeling
That my baby don’t live here no more
Too bad ain’t it
She never said a damn thing about leaving
And Jimi’s response:
That’s all right, I still got my guitar
He certainly has, because this is the moment when the serious soloing starts. We are now treated to a succession of increasingly powerful blues licks as Jimi steps it up a gear. We hear the guitar weeping in anguish like a wounded animal. But this is just the beginning. He takes it to a new level with the guitar unleashing even stronger emotions, pleading from the depths of its soul. The tension builds until, just before the eight-minute mark, waves of passionate intensity deliver an almost orgasmic climax.
There’s a short respite from the sonic ferocity. Delicate guitar notes float by as the rhythm section come to the fore with a jazzy shuffle and we try to catch our breath. But nine minutes in the guitar resumes control of proceedings, this time with no accompaniment.
What follows is a most exquisite display of hand and foot coordination with Jimi’s masterful use of the wah-wah pedal. The melody weaves beautifully in and out of the sound envelope and takes us drifting along on the surface of calmer waters. But the reprieve is temporary. Soon the full band is back and this time the tortured cries of guitar push us to the very limits of emotional endurance. The guitar is screaming in anguish, almost too much torment to bear.
Finally after 11 and a half minutes we hear the final verse with the memorable, if perhaps misogynistic, parting shot.
Said if my baby don’t love me no more,
I know damn well that her sister will
Then one final instrumental flourish and we have reached the end of the song. We have experienced a masterclass, an expressive sonic painting of raw emotion. The guitar has spoken to us and we have shared its pain.
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