The Unsung Six-Stringer Who Shared the Woodstock Spotlight with Hendrix
When we talk about Woodstock, one image immediately springs to mind: Jimi Hendrix, a psychedelic messiah conjuring sonic lightning from his Stratocaster. It’s an iconic moment, a defining snapshot of the 1960s counterculture that has, for decades, completely eclipsed everything and everyone else on that legendary stage. While the performances from Sly and the Family Stone, Jefferson Airplane, and The Who were undoubtedly stellar, they all faded into the background when Hendrix unleashed his raw, unadulterated genius. It’s easy to forget that even the members of his own band, Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell, were often relegated to supporting roles, essential as they were to the sonic tapestry of The Jimi Hendrix Experience.
What makes this particular Woodstock narrative so compelling, in my opinion, is the story of Larry Lee. While Hendrix was being catapulted to global superstardom after being discovered by Chas Chandler and brought to the UK, Lee’s path took a starkly different, and arguably more harrowing, turn. He was drafted and sent to fight in Vietnam, a brutal experience that left him with a bullet wound to the head and, I imagine, a profound psychological scar. Returning home in 1969, jobless and adrift, it’s incredibly poignant that one of the first people to reach out was his old friend, Jimi.
Personally, I find the casual nature of Hendrix’s invitation to Lee utterly fascinating. Lee recounts a phone call from Billy Cox, who was with Jimi. Hendrix gets on the line, and with a simple, "Hey, what you doing? We’re gonna try out a few things up here. We’d like for you to come up and join us," he invites Lee to what would become one of the most significant musical events in history. What’s truly remarkable is that Hendrix apparently didn't even explicitly mention it was Woodstock. From my perspective, this speaks volumes about their friendship and Lee's immediate trust. He hadn't been home for long, was likely still processing the trauma of war, and yet, he packed up and headed to New York to rehearse with his old buddy, without knowing the magnitude of the gig.
This leads me to a deeper reflection on how we often consume history, especially musical history. We tend to focus on the singular, the iconic figure, and in doing so, we often overlook the collaborative efforts and the often-unseen individuals who contributed to those legendary moments. Larry Lee’s presence on that Woodstock stage, backing Hendrix, was more than just a fill-in. It was a reunion of old friends, a testament to a shared past on the chitlin’ circuit, and a moment of musical solidarity. What this really suggests is that even in the face of overwhelming individual brilliance, the support of trusted companions can amplify and enrich the experience, both for the performer and for the audience, even if that support is later overshadowed by the star.
What many people don't realize is that the sheer scale of Woodstock meant that even seasoned musicians might have felt a sense of awe or perhaps even trepidation. For Lee, returning from the horrors of war and stepping onto that stage must have been an almost surreal experience. The fact that he was able to perform, to contribute to that iconic set, speaks to his resilience and his deep connection to the music. It’s a powerful reminder that behind every legendary performance, there are often layers of personal history, shared experiences, and quiet collaborations that contribute to the magic we remember.
