When I went into Manny's in NY to get my stratocaster in '69, Jimi was there stoned out of his gourd. When the guitar came up from the basement, he asked if he could play it. (Gawd, are you kidding?) So a few of us stood around while he did, with no amp. The dance of his fingers in the mid-range of the fret board seen up close like that was a revelation, like his fingers were Vedic gods.
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