Every summer, ‘round about the start of July, I have to crank this one up just to blow out the cobwebs.

I guess I’m getting soft and maudlin in my old age but I find Hendrix is beautiful to watch in this performance – the expressions on his face are understated, natural, caring, veiled with infinite patience and knowing. So much wisdom in that child not yet 27.

Standing in the middle of boundless sonic power, Hendrix delivers the nuances of conscience and their abnegation. He is calm and composed amid the hell-storm of the song, only his fingers are hyperactive, occasionally just blurs on the screen. His hands tell the stories of those caught in the maelstrom of war. This is not bathos or bombast, it’s not preaching.

I played this recording loud – scarily loud, neighbours packing up their kids and moving to the suburbs loud.

Images crowded my thoughts from wars distant in time and location: Vietnam, Lebanon, Bosnia, Palestine, Syria, Afghanistan, Ukraine… and how we still haven’t learned.