Jimi Hendrix Vinyl Discography: The Records That Changed Rock Forever #jimihendrix

JIMI HENDRIX ( Rock / Blues , usa ) Vinyl Discography

Dive into the comprehensive vinyl LP albums gallery of the iconic guitarist and rock legend, Jimi Hendrix. This web-page presents a visual feast of large photos showcasing all of his vinyl albums released during the 1960s, 1970s, and beyond. From the groundbreaking "Are You Experienced" to the posthumously released gems, Hendrix's discography captures his pioneering spirit in the world of rock music. A must-visit for devoted Hendrix fans and vinyl enthusiasts alike.

JIMI HENDRIX Band Description:

Jimi Hendrix is the rare kind of guitarist who makes other guitarists suddenly develop hobbies. Not because he was “important” (please), but because he sounded like he was wrestling electricity and somehow winning. He burns through the 1960s like a short, bright fuse: fast rise, louder impact, gone too soon.

Early Life and Musical Development:

Born in Seattle on 27 November 1942, Hendrix starts out as James Marshall Hendrix (born Johnny Allen Hendrix, if you enjoy paperwork). He gets his hands on a cheap acoustic at 15, joins a local band called the Velvetones, and learns a brutal lesson right away: if you cannot be heard, you do not exist. His dad eventually helps him get an electric, and Hendrix slides into more Seattle groups, including the Rocking Kings, chasing volume and opportunity like they owe him rent.

By 1964 he is in Harlem, living at the Hotel Theresa for a while, soaking up the city and grabbing any stage time he can. This is the part the clean biographies always tidy up: Hendrix is working. Playing behind people. Following rules he hates. Then breaking them anyway. The Isley Brothers, Little Richard, Curtis Knight and the Squires, whoever will pay and let him plug in. He is building the thing that later looks “inevitable,” one sweaty night at a time.

Career and Musical Achievements:

The real plot twist hits in 1966: Chas Chandler (from The Animals) sees him in New York, likes what he hears, and comes back in September to get Hendrix to London. Hendrix lands and immediately starts converting rooms. Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell fall into place, and suddenly the “Jimi Hendrix Experience” is not a concept, it is a weapon.

Their debut album, "Are You Experienced", arrives in 1967 and does what debuts are not supposed to do: it sounds like a new set of rules. The exact track list depends on whether you are talking UK or US editions, but the early Experience singles and staples—songs like "Purple Haze", "Hey Joe", and "Foxy Lady"—become the public proof that Hendrix is not here to behave. The follow-ups, "Axis: Bold as Love" and "Electric Ladyland", go deeper and stranger, and Hendrix keeps pushing the guitar into places it was never “meant” to go. Feedback becomes vocabulary. The wah-wah stops being a gimmick and starts sounding like a voice.

The word “pioneer” gets thrown around too easily, but he really does shove psychedelic rock forward with his hands on the controls. Heavy players took notes. Funk players took notes. Hip-hop producers took notes. Everybody took notes. Some pretended they didn’t.

He dies in London on 18 September 1970, aged 27. That part still feels wrong on the tongue. The legacy talk is unavoidable, so fine: the Experience is inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1992, and the argument about “greatest” will never end because people enjoy arguing. The better point is simpler: Hendrix still sounds alive. Annoyingly alive. Like the future kept showing up after he left.

References

Jimmy James and the Blue Flames: Jimi Hendrix's Formative Period in Greenwich Village

Summer 1966, Greenwich Village. Hot pavements, cheap beer, and that particular MacDougal Street feeling that the whole world is happening in a basement you can barely find. Hendrix is on the bill, but he is not “Jimi Hendrix” yet. He is “Jimmy James,” working like a person who has done too many backing gigs and has finally decided: I am not hiding behind anybody else tonight.

The band is small, practical, and built for survival. Randy Palmer holds down the low end, Dan Casey keeps the room moving, and Hendrix steers the whole thing like he is trying to bend the air into a new shape. Later they add a second guitarist: a 15-year-old Randy Wolfe, the kid who gets renamed “Randy California” because there is already a Randy in the band, and Hendrix apparently refuses to live in a world without nicknames. (Palmer becomes “Randy Texas.” Of course he does.)

This is not some sacred “incubator.” It is work. Multiple sets, long nights, and whatever the room will tolerate. Hendrix snatches songs the way a hungry player does: fast, purposeful, with a little bite. “Wild Thing” shows up because it is on the radio and it gets heads to turn. “Hey Joe” slows down into something darker and moodier than the speedy versions floating around then. Blues and R&B come sliding in after that—Muddy Waters and Bo Diddley spirit, plus crowd-pleasers that smell like the street outside. No lectures. Just impact.

The part people forget is the grind: five sets a night is not romantic, it is exhausting. But you can hear the change that exhaustion forces. Hendrix stops playing like a sideman waiting for permission. He starts testing space—how long he can hold a note, how far he can push a phrase, how much noise a small room will forgive before it becomes religion or a fistfight.

And then there is the kid. Randy Wolfe—soon Randy California —watching up close while Hendrix pulls tricks out of thin air. You can almost see the apprenticeship happening in real time: the older player throwing sparks, the younger one trying to catch them without burning his hands. That intersection is the fun part of history, the part with fingerprints.

One night in 1966 at Café Wha?, Chas Chandler (fresh off The Animals) shows up because Linda Keith tells him he has to. Chandler hears Hendrix, locks onto “Hey Joe,” and suddenly the room has a future it did not have yesterday. Chandler comes back again later that year, and the business part of the miracle begins: London, a new band, and a name the world will actually learn to pronounce.

Jimmy James and the Blue Flames do not last long, and honestly, that is fitting. This is a street-corner chapter, not a monument. But if you listen closely, the Village gives Hendrix something important: a hard crowd, a tiny stage, and zero patience for bullshit. He learns to win anyway.