(Hey) Joe Returns to Kill Again

Songs of the folk tradition can have long umbilical cords stretching back hundreds of years.  (This one is over 800 years old.) More recently, a song like Streets of Laredo has a musical and lyrical DNA that can been traced to Irish ballads and British sea chanties from the19th century. In America, these Anglo progenitors of tune- and wordsmithery were added to a cultural gangbang of cowboy ballads and laments on the American frontier. A tradition built on a platform of African American cowboys, Mexican troubadours, and even a wank by way of New Orleans. By 1924, all of this cultural spunk ended up in the mouth and pen of cowboy singer Frank H. Maynard who was bestowed with Hey Joe’s official attribution by a journalist and academic. What exactly was Maynard’s contribution we’ll never know but before him there was likely a hundred years of curation by, and with the fingerprints of, others. So, music of the folk and minstrel traditions, and likely all music to a degree, is like a whorehouse child – aside from its mysterious progenitors, there was also a lot of stepparenting. Such is how culture is made.

This is also the history of Hey Joe, though less plains, deserts, and ocean crossings and more of an urbanized terrain – coffeehouses, taverns, and clubs. Joe also has the parentage of many donors. After this trajectory of borrowing, thieving, plagiarizing, and various appropriation, we’re left with the hard polished nugget that has been through the mouths of hundreds of recordings and performances.

And while the family tree may not be nearly as leafy as Streets of Laredo, thanks to attorneys and publisher privateers, Joe’s paternity was also forced into the possession of a stepfather with one name: Billy Roberts, a California-based folkie who’d register the song’s copyright in 1962.

Then comes Dino Valenti: Best known as the composer of The Youngblood’s Let’s Get Together (still a much-used song for period soundtracks) and Quicksilver Messenger Service’s Fresh Air, Valenti would be sent to Folsom Prison from a police shakedown and a marijuana possession charge. To pay for his defense, Valenti sold the rights to Let’s Get Together for $100. While at Folsom, Valenti would meet Billy Roberts who at the time was playing with Johnny Cash’s band when he famously played there. Valenti would talk Roberts into transferring the rights to Hey Joe to help him woo the parole board with his status as a working musician. The ruse worked and Valenti was released and soon would be peddling the song to Los Angeles record companies. Mira Records would be the first to buy. 

At Mira Records, and the reason we know the song at all, was the Angeleno garage band The Leaves. Their version would at last free the song from the folk clubs and put it on the radio with their hit 1965 recording. Their version that would be the conduit that brought Hey Joe to Jimi Hendrix’s attention. His iconic version would appear less than a year later.

After Hendrix, the tale of the gun-wielding rake of the song would receive many injustices from voices and fingerings of many along the way. Yet, it still bears the spunk of its stepparents The Leaves and Hendrix.

And then in 2002, Robert Plant and his rootsy outfit Strange Sensation offered a revitalized and reductive slow-burn take of the erstwhile overworked jewel. In Plant’s retelling, the circle of fifths refrain was diluted, droning and other non-bluesy elements were offered, and a nod of tribute to the Stratocaster of Hendrix. All coming together to gave this Joe an understated power that patiently bides its rage until nearly the end, waiting almost four minutes before releasing the full furious extent of its, er, payload.

After 55 years – and 36 after Hendrix – dusky Joe once again is fired from a gun worthy of his caliber.



And Billy Roberts; the father no one remembers:

RIP

What Hendrix (might've) said

As said Abe Lincoln in the popular meme, The problem with quotes on the internet is that it is hard to verify their authenticity. My own cursory Googling reveals many claims of the below quote as indeed Hendrix, which could represent a thoughtful consensus or just sloppy research. While Hendrix was no doubt a genius and capable of turning a clever phrase, on this one color me skeptical. Still, whoever is the author it's worth repeating. (For some reason it was paired with this rather unsagely image): 

The image below may prove that all greatness begins with a nerd––Jimi in the military at 19:

Here's Hendrix's first TV appearance from 1965––see him working it a little harder than everyone else. There are no small roles, only small players.

A year earlier Hendrix bent some strings for the Isley Brothers and made an indelible impression on budding guitarist and little brother Ernie Isley.



The classic period most of us remember:

The vid I originally posted no longer allows embedding. Here's a looser (now doubt stoned) performance from Woodstock in 1969:



And lest you think Hendrix is no longer relevant, the latest album release of his tomb-raided material just topped the charts.

And this: Prepare to fall in love––Hendrix on the gayageum (!). No lemon or "O" faces, no ecstatic head tilts or spandex, just funky as s**t playing that's tighter than J-Lo's yoga pants. Here name is Luna Lee:



More Luna Lee covers here.