It was 1967. London's Finsbury Park Astoria was packed, sweaty, and vibrating with a volume the UK hadn't quite figured out how to handle yet. Jimi Hendrix was the new kid on the block, a Seattle transplant with hands that seemed too big for the neck of his Fender Stratocaster. He was opening for The Walker Brothers. He needed a hook. He needed something that would make the papers the next morning because, honestly, being the best guitar player in the world wasn't always enough to grab a headline in the 1960s.
So, he lit the match.
The image of Jimi Hendrix burns guitar isn't just a rock and roll cliché; it was a calculated, dangerous, and eventually legendary pivot in music history. People think he did it every night. He didn't. In fact, the first time he tried it, he ended up in the hospital with burned hands. Rock and roll is messy like that.
The Astoria Match That Started It All
Before the flower power of Monterey, there was the damp chill of London in March. Hendrix’s manager, Chas Chandler—formerly of The Animals—knew they needed a "happening." They were sitting around talking about how to upstage the headliners. Legend has it that journalist Keith Altham suggested that since Jimi already played the guitar with his teeth and behind his back, he should "burn it."
Chandler sent an assistant out to buy lighter fluid.
During the finale of "Fire," Jimi doused his sunburst 1965 Fender Stratocaster. He struck a match. The flame shot up way higher than anyone expected. It wasn't some controlled stage effect with a permit; it was a guy with a bottle of Zippo fluid and a dream. Jimi knelt over it like he was worshipping at an altar, coaxing the flames. He actually burned his hands in the process and had to be treated for minor injuries afterward. But it worked. The press went wild.
He didn't just play the music; he consumed the instrument.
Monterey Pop: The Sacrifice
Fast forward a few months to June 1967. The Monterey Pop Festival. This was Jimi’s big homecoming to the United States. He was terrified of being overshadowed by The Who, who were notorious for smashing their gear. Pete Townshend and Jimi actually argued backstage about who would go on first because neither wanted to follow the other’s destructive finale.
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Jimi lost the coin toss. He went on after The Who.
He knew smashing a guitar wasn't enough anymore—Townshend had already done that. So, during the final notes of "Wild Thing," Jimi pulled out the lighter fluid again. This wasn't just a stunt; it was a ritual. If you watch the footage from D.A. Pennebaker’s documentary, you see Jimi looking almost possessed. He pours the fluid, strikes the match, and then starts gesturing to the flames as if he’s calling up a spirit.
"I decided to destroy my guitar at the end of a song as a sacrifice," Hendrix later explained. "You sacrifice things you love. I love my guitar."
It's a wild thought. You love something, so you set it on fire in front of thousands of people. That moment at Monterey is why the Jimi Hendrix burns guitar search term exists today. It created the most iconic image in the history of the electric guitar.
The Mechanics of the Burn
How do you actually burn a guitar without it exploding or the neck snapping immediately?
- The Fluid: It was standard Ronsonol or Zippo lighter fluid. It burns hot and fast but doesn't necessarily incinerate the solid alder or ash wood of a Stratocaster body instantly.
- The Finish: The nitrocellulose or polyurethane finish on those old Fenders acted as an accelerant. It bubbled and hissed.
- The Aftermath: Hendrix didn't just leave it there. After the fire died down, he picked the guitar up and smashed it into pieces, throwing the charred remains into the crowd.
What Happened to the Guitars?
This is where the collectors and the historians start getting sweaty. If you find a piece of a Hendrix-burned guitar, you’re basically holding a holy relic of the 20th century.
The Astoria guitar—the first one—actually survived in a somewhat recognizable state. It was tucked away in the garage of one of Chas Chandler’s relatives for decades. In 2008, that scorched 1965 Stratocaster sold at auction for about $495,000. It’s got the burn marks to prove its pedigree.
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The Monterey Strat is a different story. That one was smashed into bits. One of the larger fragments ended up in the Experience Music Project (now MoPOP) in Seattle. Other pieces are scattered in private collections. Some fans claim to have splinters of the pickguard.
The Myth vs. The Reality
One big misconception is that Jimi did this all the time. He actually only burned his guitar a handful of times. It was expensive, for one thing. Even a rising star couldn't afford to torch a high-end Fender every night. Plus, the shock value wears off if you do it at every stop on the tour.
People also forget how dangerous it was. 1960s stages were death traps. They were covered in thick velvet curtains, wooden floorboards, and tangled mess of ungrounded electrical cables. Lighting a fire in that environment was objectively insane.
Why the Stratocaster?
You rarely saw Jimi try this with a Gibson.
Fender Stratocasters were, and still are, modular. You can bolt on a new neck if one breaks. They are built like tanks. Gibsons, with their mahogany bodies and set necks, are much more fragile. If you set a Gibson on fire, the headstock would likely snap off before the first chorus was over. The Stratocaster could take the heat—literally.
The Cultural Ripple Effect
When Jimi Hendrix burns guitar became a global news story, it changed how people viewed live performance. It wasn't just about the notes anymore; it was about the spectacle. It paved the way for Alice Cooper’s guillotines, KISS’s pyrotechnics, and even the "controlled" stage fires of modern arena tours.
But with Hendrix, it felt different. It didn't feel like a "show." It felt like a man who had reached the limit of what 10 strings and an amplifier could express. He needed the fire to say the rest.
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There's a deep irony in it. Jimi was a gearhead. He spent hours in the studio obsessing over the exact tone of his Marshall stacks and the fuzz of his Dallas Arbiter Fuzz Face pedal. He cared deeply about the craftsmanship of his instruments. To see him destroy one is a testament to the sheer emotional intensity of his performance.
Spotting the Fakes
If you’re ever at a memorabilia show and someone tries to sell you a "Hendrix burned guitar," be skeptical. There are dozens of "recreations" out there.
True Hendrix burn patterns are specific. On the Monterey guitar, Jimi had hand-painted the body with floral designs using nail polish and markers before the show. The burn marks on the authentic pieces are layered over that specific artwork.
The Lasting Legacy of the Flame
Today, the act of burning a guitar is mostly seen as a tired trope. If a band does it now, it feels like they’re trying too hard. But in '67, it was a revolution. It was the visual representation of the "Summer of Love" turning into something more volatile and unpredictable.
Jimi Hendrix didn't just play the blues; he electrified them, then he set them on fire, and then he gave the ashes to the world.
How to Appreciate the History
If you want to really understand the gravity of this moment, don't just look at the still photos. Go back and watch the Monterey Pop footage. Listen to the feedback.
- Watch the hands: Notice how Jimi doesn't look at the guitar while he's pouring the fluid. He's looking at the audience, gauging their reaction.
- Listen to the sound: The "Wild Thing" performance is iconic not because of the fire, but because of the incredible use of feedback leading up to it.
- Check the gear: Notice the Marshall stacks behind him. Those amps were pushed to their absolute limit.
The fire was just the exclamation point at the end of a very long, very loud sentence.
Practical Steps for Guitar Historians
For those who want to dive deeper into the technical side of Hendrix's gear and the "burn" era, here is what you should do:
- Research the "Blackie" and "Woodstock" Strats: These were his later iconic guitars. Compare their condition to the Astoria and Monterey models to see how his stage presence evolved from destruction to pure technical mastery.
- Visit the MoPOP in Seattle: They have one of the best collections of Hendrix artifacts in the world, including actual charred fragments from his performances.
- Study the "Monterey" Reissue: Fender periodically releases "Monterey" Stratocasters that replicate the hand-painted artwork Jimi did before he burned the original. Examining these gives you a sense of the "canvas" he was working with before the matches came out.
- Read "Room Full of Mirrors" by Charles R. Cross: This is widely considered the definitive biography. It provides the best context for his mindset during the 1967 London and Monterey periods.
Hendrix's decision to burn his guitar wasn't about hate or anger. It was about reaching a peak of expression where sound was no longer enough. It remains the ultimate "had to be there" moment in rock history.