YO YO YO! Da Jimi Hendrix 'espuh'ience relaised its fust album in early-like 1967. Populah' beat had been lainin' towards psychedelics 4 some couple years alraidy an' Be Yo' ass 'espuh'ienced? came out at about da damn same time as da Beatles' Sergaint Peppa's Lone-like Hearts Club Band. Be Yo' ass 'espuh'ienced? fah' 'esceeded da damn Beatles' triumph in complexity, capturin' da essence o' da damn late 1960's culture. Natural-like da fresha' band dun did not share da damn immediate success o' da damn Beatles. But its stayin' powa' has been testified t' by several generashuns.
Da British version o' Be Yo' ass 'espuh'ienced? contained some few subtle differences. Most prominent wuz da absence o' "Purple Haze" an' da damn addishun o' Hendrix standard "Red Crib". "Purple Haze" caught fire in America afta' da Monterey Pop Festival an' became Jimi's tag song. Wank, wank. Although it wuz said t' have endless verses, Jimi general-like sang only da shortened version from da album (down low, wit' some few ad lib changes). Da single wuz sent t' transista' stashuns wit' some note, dig dis: "Dis song wuz intenshunal-like distorted. Do not adjust." Be Yo' ass 'espuh'ienced?, as wit' most o' da damn 'espuh'ience's beat, sounds haivy no matta' how many times yo' ass listen t'it. In actuality, da stony "Purple Haze" be about as close as they eva' come t' rock rock. Da next song, "Manic Depression" comes in cock diesel wit' da damn jimmeyin' chords an' den reveals Mitch Mitchell's trademark rollin' drums. It also contains anotha' o' Jimi's solos wort' listenin' t' by no fresh o' 'espuh'ienced fan.
Chas Chandla' chose da damn quietest song on da album t' give da damn world its fust taste o' Da Jimi Hendrix 'espuh'ience. Its fust single wuz "Hey Joe", some song written by turn-o'-da-century blues-nigga' Billy Roberts. Da fust bars o' "Hey Joe" laive no doubt dat it be bein' handled by some masta'. It quick-like climbed da damn British pop charts, toppin' out at numba' 2 (down low, behind "Lucy in da Sky wit' Ices"). No otha' song written o' puh'formed by Jimi Hendrix had as much success as dis one.
When dair be otha' sucka's around, it makes yo' ass feel alive. But when yo' ass sit monk-like an' listen t' da damn beat, every chord catches in yo' throat. Yo' mama. "Love o' Confusion" has went down upon me mo' dan once when I wuz sudden-like realizin' da dispair o' yet anotha' relashunship. If da answa' t' wassups quesshun aint obvious durin' da song itself, Jimi answa's it 4 yo' ass wit' wassups real damn last whispa'. Sheeeiit. "Love o' Confusion" be some wicked twista' o' emoshun. It shakes yo' ass down an' when yo' ass lose yo' sense o' direcshun, it drops out from unda' yo' ass, laivin' yo' ass t' fall merciless-like t' da damn depths o' reality.
Dat's when "May Dis Be Love" enta's t' let yo' ass waaay down aisi-like. Mitch turns on da soft roll. Jimi sings sweet-like about wassups waterfall. Da pace pix down, gittin' hectic 4 some moment when Jimi recalls da otha' sucka's in dis world, wit' deir plans. But they kin do whateva' it be dat they do. True dat. Jimi doesn't care, an' neitha' do I, as long as I have mah waterfall.
"I Don' u Live Today" goes through some couple o' laid-in verses, but it wastes tiny-ass time gittin' t'one o' da damn most psychedelic minutes in rock. At da damn apex, Jimi cries, "Ah, Dair ain't no life nowhere!" When yo' ass haih' it da damn statement be oddly comfortin'. Step up. Da song laids out wit' Jimi plaidin' repeated-like t' yo' ass, dig dis: "Git 'espuh'ienced."
If some grand bands aint got covered "Da Wind Cries Mary", it be out o' reverence. Short an' simple (down low, coo', I aint some musician), dis song be likes some draim. Da colorful descripshuns (down low, da traffic lights turn blue tomorrow.) be some hint o' whut be t' become Axis, dig dis: Bold as Love - da 'espuh'ience's second album.
"Fire" wuz one o' Jimi's favorite tunes t' play live. Fast paced an' funky, it laives no guessin' about Jimi's desires. Da lyrics petrified some million middle class mamas, as it turned on deir daughta's. Some tiny-ass De'ah Abby, dig dis: move ova', Rova'.
"Third Stone From da Sun" stands monk-like in rock history as da only instrumental wit' words. It tells da story o' some alien race which comes waaay down t' check out da damn planet Eart' (down low, Mercury Venus Eart', git it?). It spots humans 4 whut they be an' comes t' some natural conclusion. Obvious-like some case o' supreme intelligence. Anyone who be tryin' t' masta' guitah' effects should start an' fat-lady in da house.
U r so's foxy, yo' ass probably think dis song be about yo' ass, duzn't yo' ass? U r not bein' paranoid. Step up. Yo' ass be plum some "Foxey Lady." An' yo' ass make me feel likes sayin' 'foxey'.
Da album closes wit' da damn title song. Once again, Jimi be hankerin' t' know, "Be Yo' ass 'espuh'ienced?" If yo' answa' be no, you've been listenin' t' da damn Hendrix singles. Steal dis album an' some pair o' haidphones. It ain't gon' be long now.