It’s about 9:00 AM on a Monday morning in August 1969. The ground is a literal swamp of mud, discarded trash, and the lingering smell of a half-million people who haven't showered in three days. Most of the crowd has already bailed, heading back to their day jobs or school. Only about 30,000 to 40,000 people remain scattered across Max Yasgur's farm, looking like survivors of a beautiful, rain-soaked disaster.
Then, Jimi Hendrix walks out.
He’s wearing a white fringed buckskin jacket and a red headscarf. He looks exhausted but somehow electric. This wasn't the midnight slot he was promised. Rain and logistical nightmares pushed his set back nearly ten hours. When he finally hits those first notes of Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock Star Spangled Banner, he isn't just playing a song. He’s basically conducting a seance for a dying decade.
People think this was a spontaneous, drug-fueled whim. It wasn't. Honestly, that’s the first thing everyone gets wrong.
The Myth of the "Spontaneous" Protest
If you watch the footage, it looks like Jimi just caught a vibe and went for it. In reality, Hendrix had been messing with the national anthem for over a year. He’d performed it at least 60 or 70 times before he ever set foot in Bethel, New York.
He was obsessed with it.
To Jimi, the anthem wasn't just a "sacred hymn." It was a piece of music that could be stretched, pulled, and tortured until it sounded like the world outside. He called his version "This Is America," and he saw it as a "sonic portrait." While the press later screamed about it being a "crude anti-U.S. drivel," Jimi’s own take was more nuanced. He was an ex-paratrooper in the 101st Airborne, remember? He didn't hate the country; he was just holding up a mirror to it.
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When he dives into the "rockets' red glare" section, he isn't just playing notes. He’s using a 1968 Fender Stratocaster (nicknamed "Izabella") and a wall of Marshall stacks to create the actual sound of falling bombs. You hear the screams. You hear the sirens. You hear the chaos of Vietnam and the race riots happening back home.
It’s visceral. It’s scary. And it was very much intentional.
The Band That Barely Knew the Setlist
Another weird detail: the band behind him wasn't even the Jimi Hendrix Experience. That group had broken up months earlier.
Instead, he was fronting a messy, expanded ensemble he called Gypsy Sun and Rainbows. It was their first—and basically only—major gig. The lineup included:
- Mitch Mitchell: The legendary drummer from the Experience.
- Billy Cox: An old army buddy on bass.
- Larry Lee: A rhythm guitarist who Jimi had played with back in the R&B "Chitlin' Circuit" days.
- Juma Sultan and Jerry Velez: Two percussionists who added a tribal, chaotic layer to the sound.
Because they hadn't rehearsed much, the set was mostly long, sprawling jams. By the time they reached the anthem, the rest of the band actually stopped playing. They just stood there. It became a solo performance because, frankly, what do you even play behind a man who is turning a guitar into a dive-bomber?
Why the Sound Was So "Gnarly"
If you've ever tried to play a guitar through a fuzz pedal, you know it usually sounds like a hive of bees. But Jimi's sound at Woodstock was different. It was thick, saturated, and felt like it had a physical weight to it.
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He was using a Dallas Arbiter Fuzz Face and a Vox Cry Baby Wah. But the real secret was the feedback. Most guitarists try to avoid feedback because it’s loud and annoying. Jimi treated it like a second instrument. He would stand in front of his 100-watt Marshall amps, find the "sweet spot" where the sound waves would vibrate his strings, and then use his whammy bar to "dive" the pitch down.
That’s how he got those haunting, crying sounds during the anthem. It wasn't just noise; it was controlled physics.
Interestingly, he had to keep tuning the guitar while he was playing. The humidity and the sheer violence he was doing to the tremolo system kept knocking the strings out of whack. If you watch closely at about the three-minute mark, you can see his fingers dancing between the frets and the tuning pegs. He had perfect pitch, so he could fix it on the fly without breaking the melody. Sorta incredible, really.
The Morning-After Effect
One big reason the Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock Star Spangled Banner became such a legend is the lighting. If he had played at midnight as scheduled, we’d have grainy, dark footage of a guy in a spotlight.
Instead, because of the delay, he played in the bright, pale light of a Monday morning. The cameras captured every fringe on his jacket and every grimace on his face.
The documentary film Woodstock, released in 1970, basically turned this single moment into the definitive image of the 1960s. For the 400,000 people who had already left, seeing it in the theater was a shock. They realized they’d missed the most important part of the festival while they were stuck in traffic on the New York Thruway.
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Was it a Protest?
When Jimi went on The Dick Cavett Show a few weeks later, Cavett asked him about the "unorthodox" version of the anthem. He mentioned that people might find it offensive.
Jimi’s response was classic: "I thought it was beautiful."
He didn't see it as a middle finger to the flag. He saw it as a "national anthem of the air." He was reclaiming the song for a generation that felt alienated from the government but still felt like they belonged to the land.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers and History Buffs
If you want to truly appreciate what happened that morning, don't just watch the three-minute clip of the anthem. To get the full context of Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock Star Spangled Banner, do this:
- Listen to the full "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)" segue. The anthem doesn't start in a vacuum; it grows out of a 13-minute psychedelic blues jam. The transition is where the real magic is.
- Watch the "Villanova Junction" coda. Right after the anthem and "Purple Haze," Jimi ends the set with a quiet, mournful instrumental. It’s the sound of the party being over, and it's arguably more moving than the anthem itself.
- Check out the "Izabella" studio recordings. Since the Woodstock band (Gypsy Sun and Rainbows) didn't last, the studio versions of the songs they played offer a glimpse into what Jimi was trying to achieve before his death a year later.
- Isolate the percussion. If you have a good pair of headphones, try to pick out Juma Sultan’s congas. Most official mixes tried to bury the extra percussionists, but their "clatter" is what gives the Woodstock set its unique, messy, "Earth-vibe" energy.
The Woodstock performance wasn't a perfect musical masterpiece. It was out of tune, the band was under-rehearsed, and the audience was half-asleep. But that’s exactly why it worked. It was raw, honest, and completely unfiltered—just like the era it came to define.
Go back and watch the footage again. This time, don't look for a "rock star." Look for a guy who had been awake for two days, standing in the mud, trying to find a way to make six strings sound like a country in transition. You’ll hear things you never noticed before.