Bob Dylan once said that when he played the song after Jimi Hendrix got a hold of it, it felt like a tribute. That’s heavy. Imagine writing a song, a deep, biblical, apocalyptic piece of folk-rock, and then some guy from Seattle comes along and plays it so well that you basically hand him the keys to the house. It happens. But with the All Along the Watchtower cover recorded by the Jimi Hendrix Experience, it didn't just happen—it shifted the entire trajectory of rock guitar.
Most people don't realize how fast it all moved. Dylan released John Wesley Harding in late December 1967. Hendrix was in Olympic Studios in London by January 1968, obsessing over the tracks. He was a Dylan fanatic. He carried the songwriter's lyrics around like a bible. When he heard "All Along the Watchtower," he didn't just hear a three-chord folk tune. He heard a canvas.
The Chaos Behind the Perfect All Along the Watchtower Cover
Recording this thing was a nightmare. Honestly, if you were in the studio that night, you might have thought the track was going to be a disaster. Hendrix was a perfectionist, but the kind of perfectionist that drives everyone else insane.
Dave Mason from Traffic was there playing acoustic guitar. Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones actually showed up to play piano, but he was so out of it—standard for Jones at the time—that he kept tripping over the keys. They eventually bumped him to percussion (he plays that thwacking sound on the track), but even then, Hendrix was frustrated.
Then you had Noel Redding. Noel, the band’s bassist, got fed up with Jimi’s constant stopping and starting. They got into a row. Noel walked out. Most people listening to the radio today have no clue that the bassline on the famous All Along the Watchtower cover isn't even the band's actual bass player. It’s Jimi. He just picked up the bass and did it himself because he knew exactly how the pocket needed to feel.
The song is built on a simple descending pattern: C# minor, B, and A. It’s a loop. But Hendrix treated that loop like a revolving door. He recorded over 20 takes. Then he spent months overdubbing. He was painting with sound. You can hear the layers of percussion—the guiro, the maracas, that haunting echo. It wasn't just a band in a room; it was a laboratory experiment.
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Why the Guitar Solos Are Basically a Masterclass
You can’t talk about this cover without talking about the four distinct solo sections. They aren't just "shredding." Each one serves a purpose.
The first solo is straight-up melodic, staying close to the vocal line. The second uses a slide, but not a traditional one—Jimi used a lighter or a bottle to get that eerie, soaring sustain. Then comes the wah-wah pedal section. This was 1968. People hadn't heard a guitar "talk" like that yet. It sounds like someone crying or laughing or screaming at the sky.
Finally, the rhythm solo. This is where he plays those rhythmic chords that syncopate against the beat. It’s incredibly complex. Most guitarists spend their whole lives trying to get that specific "swing" right. It’s not stiff. It’s loose, but it’s lethal.
The Dylan Influence
Dylan’s original version is sparse. It’s quiet. It’s a conversation between a joker and a thief. There’s a sense of dread, but it’s muffled, like a storm happening three towns over.
Hendrix brought the storm to your front door.
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He changed the structure of the song by making the guitar the narrator. When he sings, "the wind began to howl," the guitar actually howls. It’s literalism in music, but executed with such flair that it doesn't feel cheesy. It feels inevitable. Dylan himself admitted that Hendrix found things in the song that Dylan didn't even know were there.
Technical Oddities and Studio Magic
Eddie Kramer, the legendary engineer, deserves a lot of credit here. They were working on a four-track machine originally, which is insane when you consider the density of the sound. They had to "bounce" tracks down to make room for more overdubs. Every time you do that, you lose a bit of fidelity, but it added this warm, saturated hiss that defines the late 60s sound.
They moved the production to New York to finish it at Record Plant. Jimi was still tinkering. He’d go out to a club, come back at 3:00 AM, and tell Kramer they needed to redo the vocals. He was insecure about his voice. He didn't think he was a "singer." He hid behind the wall of sound because he thought his voice was too thin. Ironically, that vulnerability is what makes the All Along the Watchtower cover so relatable. He sounds like the thief he’s singing about.
The Cultural Impact That Won't Quit
Why does this version still show up in every Vietnam War movie ever made? Forrest Gump, Watchmen, Battlestar Galactica—it’s everywhere.
It’s because the song captures a specific type of tension. It’s the sound of an era ending. By 1968, the Summer of Love was rotting. The Vietnam War was escalating. Martin Luther King Jr. and RFK were assassinated. The "Watchtower" represents the establishment, the old guard, and the song is about the outsiders watching it crumble.
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Hendrix’s version feels like fire. Dylan’s version feels like the smoke.
Other Covers That Tried (and Mostly Failed)
Plenty of people have tried to tackle this song.
- U2: They do a decent live version, but it feels a bit too "stadium rock." It loses the grit.
- Dave Matthews Band: They’ve made it a staple of their live shows. It’s high energy, and the violin parts are cool, but it lacks the danger of the '68 version.
- Neil Young: He brings a heavy, distorted energy that comes closest to the spirit of Jimi, but it’s still playing in the shadow of the giant.
- Bear McCreary: For the Battlestar Galactica fans, this version is haunting and weird, using sitars and Eastern scales. It’s a great reimagining because it doesn't try to be Jimi.
But at the end of the day, when you say "All Along the Watchtower," 99% of people hear those opening acoustic strums and that "thwack" of the percussion from the Hendrix version.
Actionable Insights for Musicians and Fans
If you’re a musician trying to learn this or a fan trying to appreciate it more, look at the layers. Don't just listen to the lead guitar.
- Listen to the acoustic guitar: It’s the heartbeat of the track. Even with all the electric chaos, that acoustic rhythm never wavers. It’s what keeps the song from flying off the tracks.
- Study the dynamics: Notice how the song gets quiet before the final solo. It breathes. Modern music is often "brickwalled" (everything is the same volume). This song has peaks and valleys.
- Check the lyrics: Most people miss that the song is told in reverse. The end of the song is actually the beginning of the story. The joker and the thief are approaching the tower at the end, but they were already talking about it in the first verse.
The best way to experience the All Along the Watchtower cover is to find the highest-quality vinyl or lossless digital file you can. Put on a pair of good headphones. Listen to how the guitar pans from the left ear to the right ear during the solos. It’s a physical experience as much as an auditory one.
To really understand the genius here, go back and listen to Dylan's original version on John Wesley Harding first. Then immediately play the Hendrix version from Electric Ladyland. The contrast isn't just a difference in style; it’s a demonstration of how a cover can become the definitive version of a story. Hendrix didn't just play a song; he inhabited it.
Next time you hear it, listen for the bass. Remember that it's Jimi playing, filling in for a friend who walked out, creating the most iconic bassline of his career on a whim. That’s the kind of happy accident that creates a masterpiece.