Are You Experienced?

Yesterday, a friend mentioned that the new Sherlock Holmes movie poster reminded him of Jimi Hendrix. He's got a point. His comment also reminded me of my own Jimi Hendrix experience. Not like that! C'mon, how old do you think I am?

I was in Seattle shortly after the Experience Music Project opened. The Experience Music Project, a museum showcasing the roots and origins of primarily rock, gospel, blues, jazz, and soul music, is in an absurdly cool building designed by Frank Gehry.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/randite/229757417/

I seem to remember that our son was young enough and admission high enough that it didn't make sense for all three of us to visit the museum. Between my classical music professional husband, our six year old son, and rockgirl -at-heart wife/mom, it was clear who was going to stay and which two were going back to the hotel.

When I was there, the first floor was dominated by Elvis, The Beatles, and Bob Dylan. I've always been partial to Dylan. When my older sister and I were young, she'd force me to play the boardgame Mystery Date. The goal, she would impatiently explain to me, was to open the plastic door and see your date was going to be The Prom Date, a crewcut blonde in a white tuxedo. Possibly The Bowler, who looked like Buddy Holly. To her endless annoyance, I always squealed in hope that I'd get The Bum, who had a definate Bob Dylan vibe going on.

There was a special exhibit upstairs dedicated to Seattle's hometown star, Jimi Hendrix. I'm not a huge Jimi Hendrix fan. I know about 5 - 10 of his songs. I get what he represented and still represents. I know the aura of cool that seems to form just discussing him. So, I went upstairs at the Experience Music Project. Honestly, the building is an exhibit in itself.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kopanas/111166916/

I was kind of zoning in front of the massive sound and light show when I noticed people walking past me. There were two guys in front of a door who, for the time, looked fairly edgy. Multiple piercings, tattoos, creative hair. As one man neared, the guys pulled open double doors and he entered the area. Several other people walked by, though the "doormen" didn't move. More passed by, still no opening of doors. Wondering what was going on, I began walking towards them. One doorman looked at me, said something quickly to the other, and the doors were opened before me. I stepped inside and saw, initially, Jimi Hendrix' crushed velvet pants and wide-brimmed, feathered hat. So, this was where the exhibit was. I overheard the doormen.

"How do you know every time who's here for Hendrix?"

"I can just tell who gets him or not."

Yeah. As I walked past more hats, guitars, and posters, there was a slight strut to my walk. Yeah.