8 August 2012
I couldn't begin to tell you how much I wish I was alive in the august of 1969, so that I could've experienced the peace, love, and music of the festival that changed rock and roll forever. Here's how, judging by my dad and his mates accounts, of what it must've been like.
Monday. Everyone seems to be awake. The smell of b.o. is flushed out with the burning smell of smoke, that I blew out into the tie die sea of fellow festival goers. I could feel the morning sun bearing down on me as I watched Clive wearily roll some fresh grass into a thin piece of paper. Everything was quiet. Enjoyable, we had been here since Friday. No shower, no bath, nothing. The flares on my jeans, were coated in mud. I recall a stain on my shirt, that I got during creedence Clearwater revival's set, reminding me of the freedom of filth, that came with the festival atmosphere. An announcement sounded. Everyone gazed at the stage. In the distance I could see a black guy on the stage. His hair held by a blue bandana. His body covered by a long, Indian like, shirt. I could see a White guitar twinkle in his hands. The people, who were leaving, became transfixed. I could see a girl. A mini skirt hung loosely up her toned legs, she asked "can I like, get a clearer view?" The words "clearer" and "view" began to space out in my mind as the man on stage began to play the opening notes to "fire". I shut my eyes before answering. "sure jump on" my mind relaxed. The words slurred as she jumped on my shoulders.
There he was. Jimi was there. On that stage. In front of all 40,000 of us. I turned to see my mates Clive and Ian. They were as spaced as I was. I found myself feeling the music. Song after song. The girl was now in my arms. Her hair was strewn across her face as she rolled her head to the tune of voodoo chile. I spotted a flower in her hair. It was beautiful. Pearl White, with a yellow centre that glistened. Everyone felt the same. Tired, used, but not ready to go just yet.
The crowd roared when Jimi turned to his drummer, beginning star spangled banner. The musical dives in his playing, supposedly representing the bombs falling on Vietnam at the time. I could see the crowd. They were as lost in the music as Hendrix himself. Hippies. Not sure whether to stand and listen, or think about the wrong doing, that was fallen upon Vietnam at the time. The anthem then became purple haze.
My eyes glazed. I peaked and so did everyone else, as he played. So raw, so full of talent. Magic. The psychedelic atmosphere has us all mesmerised.
As he came to the end, we all went mental. Screaming. Collapsing, with tiredness. I fell into the empty whiskey bottles and into a final trance. A tie die, magic carpet ride. This was 3 days, of peace, love, and music. This was Woodstock.
Not my best, but I hope you guys enjoy anyway!
Woodstock • Opuss № I