Wish Song, (Introduction)

In an interview published on September 17, 1970, Jimi Hendrix told Roy Hollingworth, “In older civilizations, they didn’t have diseases as we know them. It would be incredible if you could produce music so perfect that it would filter through you like rays and ultimately cure.”

The next day……Jimi Hendrix died.





















Jay McAllister











J.B.: “My earliest memory? That’s a hard one. Let’s see…I remember I lived in the country in Virginia, in a small cabin. I don’t know if we owned it but there was a horse in the field in our back yard. I used to see it out of my window, just walking around, grazing. I was maybe three years old. I was fascinated by that horse.”

            “One day, I had a bright idea;  ‘I’ll go pet the horsy’.  My pappy was in the garden, busy with his pumpkins, beans, squash, or whatever.  I totted on out into the field, walked right up and pet the horse. The look in that horse’s eye was so peaceful. When I turned to walk back to the house, I must’ve walked around to the rear of the horse. I remember a sharp pain in my back, and seeing the ground below me moving, and a sensation of flying. That horse kicked the shit out of me!”

“I woke up in my bed, and my pappy and a neighbor, Doc Wilson, talking in the kitchen.  When Doc left, Pappy walked to my bed and I could see he had been crying. I had an awful pain in my back, and I couldn’t feel my legs. I guess I was hurt pretty bad.”

“Now, Pappy was an old blues guitar picker from somewhere around Mississippi, or Louisiana, or someplace down that way. He used to talk all the time about his old buddies from his childhood on the Mississippi River. He was an orphan, raised by an old black, homeless man that earned his money playing the harmonica in various towns along the river. They were no doubt a strange pair in those times. He always said that the man gave him something that enriched his life like nothing else ever would. Later in my life, I came to realize what that ‘something’ was. I’ll just never be able to explain it.”

“As he sat by my bed, he seemed torn over something. I recall how he kept saying, ‘I don’t need it no more, I’m too old.’ and, ‘There’s no sense me keeping it.’ Then he walked over to his old handmade, beat up guitar…picked it up, sat in a chair by my bed, and started playing.”

“What he played that day, to me, just didn’t sound right; not his typical delta blues anyway. I don’t know what it was. I just remember it sounded and somehow, “felt” different to me. It made me sleep….and dream. I dreamed of distant stars and the light from them washing over my body. I dreamed I was being cleansed by their light somehow. Suddenly, the dream changed and I was looking into a horse’s eye. Then the pupil of the horse’s eye became the sun.”

“When I woke up, my back felt fine, and I could feel my legs again. My pappy was on the floor, unconscious, and laying on his guitar. He must’ve fallen on it because it was in pieces. When he woke up, he started to cry from happiness, I think, because I was okay. I don’t remember how he was before that day because I was so young, but somehow, I don’t think he was ever the same after that.”

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