I don't know why it took 19 years for D.A. Pennbaker's and Chris Hegedus' movie to make it from performance on stage to screening at the Toronto Film Festival. I suspect it was because every time they went into the editing booth, they got such a contact high that all they could do was giggle at the fug. Jimi was a monster in the original sense of the word, something you came to gawk at, a creature from some weird planet where the visible spectrum did not include light as we know it - which is the only explanation I can think of for his clothes -- and selective breeding had produced people who came out of the egg brilliant at the guitar, and then spent the next twenty years trying to get competent.
Jimi and his sidemen do a half-hour set. I'm exhausted.
Jimi and his sidemen do a half-hour set. I'm exhausted.