"But then there was Hendrix, man. Jimi was really the last cat to freak me. Jimi was playing all the stuff I had in my head. I couldn't believe it, when I first heard him. Man, no one can ever do what he did with a guitar. No one can ever take his place"
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There is a special kind of humility that only shows up when a virtuoso meets someone who rearranges the laws of the instrument. Terry Kath wasnt some dazzled fanboy; he was a monster guitarist himself, a guy used to being the loudest voice in the room. So when he calls Hendrix "the last cat to freak me", hes sketching a before-and-after moment: a seasoned player hit with the rare shock of feeling outpaced, out-imagined, out-futured.
The language is tellingly casual, almost protective. "Man" and "cat" arent filler; theyre a musicians way of keeping awe from tipping into worship. Yet the awe breaks through anyway in the key line: "Jimi was playing all the stuff I had in my head". Thats not just praise of technique. Its the unsettling recognition that Hendrix externalized possibilities other players were still privately fantasizing about. Hendrix didnt merely play better; he made the internal soundtrack of a generation audible, turning latent ideas into public fact.
Kaths absolutism - "No one can ever..". - reads as grief as much as admiration. Hendrix dies in 1970, and the rock-guitar conversation instantly becomes post-Hendrix: everyone responding, imitating, metabolizing. Kath frames him as irreplaceable not because the world ran out of great players, but because Hendrix functioned like a singular portal. Once youve watched someone kick open that door, the mythology is less about the man than about the moment: the instant the future arrived and refused to be repeated.
The language is tellingly casual, almost protective. "Man" and "cat" arent filler; theyre a musicians way of keeping awe from tipping into worship. Yet the awe breaks through anyway in the key line: "Jimi was playing all the stuff I had in my head". Thats not just praise of technique. Its the unsettling recognition that Hendrix externalized possibilities other players were still privately fantasizing about. Hendrix didnt merely play better; he made the internal soundtrack of a generation audible, turning latent ideas into public fact.
Kaths absolutism - "No one can ever..". - reads as grief as much as admiration. Hendrix dies in 1970, and the rock-guitar conversation instantly becomes post-Hendrix: everyone responding, imitating, metabolizing. Kath frames him as irreplaceable not because the world ran out of great players, but because Hendrix functioned like a singular portal. Once youve watched someone kick open that door, the mythology is less about the man than about the moment: the instant the future arrived and refused to be repeated.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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