The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Electric Ladyland (1968)

I remember very distinctly standing in the middle of the road of just about nowhere in complete darkness in some desertous region of Iraq on our way to Baghdad with my paranoid eyes hidden behind my Wiley X's and my weapon at-the-ready waiting for some potential human snuffing when, out of some perverse defensive mechanism, "1983...(A Merman I Should Turn To Be)" began playing with extreme prejudice in my head.

Nothing happened otherwise, and we continued on, but I'd figured I'd let you know.

Non-musical matters aside, this is an amazing album. The fractured majesty in "1983" continues to remain indelibly etched in my sonic consciousness. But one of the real strengths of this album is its musical flow. What I love is how it just ramps up on you -- this is not to say that the first track "...And The Gods Made Love" is weak, it's just that by the time Hendrix begins ripping through "Come On (Let The Good Times Roll)," if you haven't already fastened your seat-belt, you're fucking screwed. There is simply no room for whatever is otherwise. When Hendrix sings about chopping down the mountain with the edge of his hand, I believe him. The guitar swaggering is monumental, the psychedelic grooves flail at full tilt, the feedback shapeshifts like an embryo in chaos. Oh, I'm beside myself. Surely, if you aren't a Hendrix fan, or could care less for this album in particular, you can't possibly love the electric guitar -- which in my opinion remains the greatest testament of its usage by a man who played it better than anyone before or since. A