Jimi Hendrix Calls Clapton 3 Days Before Death — What He Said Left Clapton SPEECHLESS for 50 Years

Jimi Hendrix Calls Clapton 3 Days Before Death — What He Said Left Clapton SPEECHLESS for 50 Years

September 15th, 1970, 3 days before Jimmyi Hendrickx died in a London hotel room. According to one witness, Hendrickx spent part of that day at Olympic Studios, made a phone call to Eric Clapton. The witness claims Hendrick said, “You’re better than me, Eric. Everyone knows it. Your technique is superior, but you play safe. You stay within boundaries. I break them. That’s the difference. You’re the better player. I’m the braver artist. We should work together. Combine your skill with

my courage. We change everything. Clapton has spent 50 years neither confirming nor denying this call. When Preston interviews, he says, “What I will say is this. Jimmy understood something most people don’t. That technical excellence and artistic courage are different qualities. I had one. He had the other.” And he was right. Together, we might have created something neither of us could create alone. 3 days after that alleged call, Jimmyi Hrix was dead at 27. The collaboration never happened. We’ll

never know if the call was real. But we know this. Hris had courage Clapton envied. Clapton had skill Hrix respected, and both knew what the other possessed. September 15th, 1970. Olympic Studios, London. Jimmyi Hendrickx was in London. He’d been living there on and off since 1966 when he’d first come to England and become a sensation. By September 1970, Hrix was 27 years old, exhausted from years of constant touring, struggling with the pressure of fame, dealing with management problems and creative

frustrations. He’d been at Olympic Studios that week working on music. Not for an album, just playing, experimenting, trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. The pressure to follow up Electric Ladyland was immense. Critics wanted another masterpiece. His label wanted commercial success. Hris himself wasn’t sure what he wanted to create anymore. According to one witness, a studio assistant named Robert Chen Hris made a phone call that day to Eric Clapton. Robert Chen is the only person who

claims to have heard this conversation. Chen died in 1989, taking whatever he actually heard to his grave. Before he died, Chen told this story to several people, friends, fellow studio workers, journalists who interviewed him about his time working with famous musicians. According to Chen, here’s what happened. Hris was at the studio. It was late afternoon around 400 p.m. He’d been playing guitar for hours, not recording, just playing, experimenting with sounds, trying things. Chen said Hrix seemed

restless at day, unsatisfied with everything he played, starting songs and stopping them midway through. Chen was in the studio doing technical work, half listening to Hendrick’s play. Then Hendrickx stopped, put down his guitar, sat quietly for a moment, staring at nothing. Then he asked Chen, “Is there a phone I can use? I need to call someone.” Chen directed him to the studio phone. He dialed, waited. Someone answered. “Eric, it’s Jimmy. You got a minute?” Chen says he could only hear

Jimmy’s side of the conversation. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He was working in the same room and Hrix wasn’t being particularly quiet or private. According to Chen, Hrix said, “Eric, I need to tell you something. You’re a better guitarist than I am.” Pause. Listening to Clapton’s response. No, I’m serious. Technically, you have precision, control, skill I don’t possess. I hear you play and I think I can’t do that. Not like that. Not with that accuracy. Another pause. But here’s

the thing. I am a braver artist than you are. I take risks you won’t take. I play things that shouldn’t work, but I make them work anyway. You play things perfectly. I play things daringly. That’s the difference between us. Longer pause. Listening. I think if we work together, your technique with my courage, we could make something neither of us could make alone. We should collaborate soon, not someday, soon before it’s too late. Chen says Hrix listened for a while, laughed at something Clapton said, then, “Yeah,

yeah, I know, but I’m serious, man. Think about it.” And Hrix hung up. Chen says Hrix sat there for a moment looking at the phone, then picked up his guitar and started playing again. But this time, Chen noticed. Hrix seemed more focused. Whatever that conversation had been, it seemed to settle something in him. 3 days later, September 18, 1970, Jimmyi Hendris was dead. He was found in a London hotel room, the Samurand Hotel. He’d taken sleeping pills, probably too many, though whether intentionally or

accidentally was never definitively determined. He’d vomited in his sleep, esphyxiated. The ambulance was called too late. Jimmyi Hendris was 27 years old, one of the greatest guitarists who ever lived. Dead. The collaboration with Clapton, if it was ever seriously discussed, never happened. Robert Chan told this story repeatedly over the following 19 years. He told friends. He told other musicians. In 1985, he was interviewed by a music journalist researching Hrix’s final days. Chen told the story then, too.

Jimmy called Clapton 3 days before he died. I heard it. I was there. He said Clapton was better technically, but that he Jimmy was braver artistically. He wanted to collaborate, combine their strengths. The journalist asked, “Did you ever follow up?” asked Clapton if the call happened. Chen said no. It felt private and after Jimmy died, it felt wrong to bring it up. But Chen’s account remained consistent for nearly two decades. He never changed details, never embellished, never tried to profit from

the story. When other studio assistants were selling stories about famous musicians to tabloids in the 1970s and 80s, Chen kept this one private, sharing it only when directly asked about Jimmy’s final days. Some who knew Chen said he was meticulous about accuracy, that he had an excellent memory for conversations and details. Others said he was prone to romanticizing his experiences with famous musicians. The truth about Chen himself remains as murky as the truth about the phone call. But what’s undeniable is that Chen

believed what he said. Whether he actually heard what he claimed to hear or whether he heard something and interpreted it through his own understanding of both guitarists, that’s unknowable. In 1989, Robert Chen died. Heart attack. He was 52. The only witness to the alleged phone call was gone. For decades, the story existed only as secondhand accounts, people Chen had told, interviews he’d given. But Chen himself was gone. Hris was gone. That left only one person who could confirm or deny the story, Eric Clapton. And

Clapton wouldn’t. Over the years, journalists and biographers asked Clapton about the alleged phone call. Did Hrix call you 3 days before he died? Did he talk about collaboration? Clapton’s responses were always carefully non-committal. In a 1995 interview, I can’t confirm specific conversations from 25 years ago. My memory isn’t that reliable. In a 2004 biography, Jimmy and I talked occasionally. What we discussed I consider private. In a 2010 documentary about Hrix, whether Jimmy called me or

not isn’t something I can or will confirm, but I can say that Jimmy understood things about music and about guitarists that most people don’t understand. And in 2018, when asked directly by a persistent interviewer, “Did Jimmy Hendrickx call you 3 days before he died?” Clapton’s response was longer and more revealing than usual. I can’t neither confirm nor deny conversations that may or may not have happened 50 years ago. My memory isn’t reliable for specific phone calls from 1970. What I

can say is this. Whether Jimmy said those specific words to me or whether someone imagined he said them, the sentiment sounds exactly like Jimmy. What do you mean? He understood the difference between technical mastery and artistic courage. He understood that I could play things he couldn’t play technically. Clean runs, precise notes, controlled dynamics, and I understood that he could attempt things I was afraid to attempt. He’d play things that by all conventional rules shouldn’t work. Wrong notes by traditional

standards, chaotic structures, but he made them work through sheer force of creativity and courage. So, you’re saying he was right, that you were technically superior, but he was artistically braver. I’m saying we had different strengths. Technique is one kind of mastery. Courage is another. Most great artists have one or the other. Very few have both. Jimmy had courage I envied. I had technique he respected. And yes, he was right that combining those strengths would have been extraordinary.

So the call might have happened. I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. Robert Chen is the only person who claims to have heard it. And Robert is dead. Jimmy is dead. I can’t confirm or deny something I may or may not remember. But you won’t say it didn’t happen. I won’t say anything definitive either way. What I will say is this. Whether the call happened or not, the truth in what was reportedly said is real. Jimmy had courage I envied. I had technique he respected. And both of us knew what we had and what

we lacked. The interviewer pressed, “When you say courage you envied, what do you mean specifically?” Clapton thought for a moment. Jimmy would walk on stage and not know exactly what he was going to play. He’d start a solo and see where it went. Sometimes it went somewhere brilliant. Sometimes it went somewhere chaotic. But he wasn’t afraid of the chaos. He wasn’t afraid of playing something that might not work. And you were? I was terrified of it. I practiced until I could play anything

perfectly. But perfectly meant safely within established structures. Jimmy broke structures. He’d play feedback as melody. He’d use the guitar in ways it wasn’t designed to be used. That takes a kind of courage I didn’t have. I had the courage to practice 8 hours a day until I mastered something. He had the courage to attempt something he hadn’t mastered and might never master. Those are very different kinds of bravery. Did the phone call happen? We’ll never know for certain. Robert Chen, the only witness,

died in 1989. Jimmyi Hendris died in 1970. Eric Clapton won’t confirm or deny. The truth is unknowable. But maybe that’s not the point. Maybe the point is what the alleged conversation reveals. Whether it happened or not, technical excellence and artistic bravery are different qualities. Most artists have one or the other. Few have both. Eric Clapton by 1970 was already known as a technical master. Clapton is God had been graffitied on London walls in 1967. He could play anything, any style, any

complexity. He had precision, control, mastery of the instrument. But Clapton played within established boundaries. He respected musical rules. He mastered blues and rock structures, but rarely broke them. He was excellent within conventional frameworks. Jimmyi Hendris, by contrast, broke every rule. He played guitar in ways no one had played before. Behind his back with his teeth, using feedback as melody, playing right-handed guitars upside down as a left-handed player, making sounds that shouldn’t be

possible on a guitar. Hris wasn’t always technically clean. He played wrong notes by conventional standards. His playing could be chaotic, wild, unpredictable. But he was brave, daringly, fearlessly creative. He attempted things that shouldn’t work and made them work anyway. Two different approaches to greatness. Clapton, precise, controlled, masterful, within boundaries. Hrix, wild, brave, boundary breaking. If they had collaborated, if that phone call happened and led to actual work together, what might they have created?

Clapton’s technique with Hrix’s courage, structure with chaos, precision with daring. Imagine Clapton’s clean runs combined with Hrix’s feedback experiments. Clapton’s controlled dynamics supporting Hrix’s wild improvisations. The discipline of blues mastery merged with the fearlessness of sonic experimentation. We’ll never know. 3 days after the alleged call, Hrix was dead. The collaboration never happened, but the story, whether true or invented, captures something real about both men.

In 2020, on the 50th anniversary of Hrix’s death, Clapton was asked again about the alleged conversation. I’m 75 years old. Jimmy would be 77 if he’d lived. We’re from a different era and honestly I don’t know if that call happened. I’ve spent 50 years being asked about it and 50 years not confirming or denying it. Why not just say yes or no? Because the truth is I don’t know. Maybe it happened and I forgot. Maybe it happened and I remember but consider it private. Maybe it never

happened and someone created a story that sounds true because it captures something real about both of us. I genuinely don’t know which is true. But you won’t deny it? No. Because whether it happened or not, what it says is accurate. Jimmy understood that we had different gifts. I could play anything correctly. He could attempt anything courageously. And he was right. Combining those gifts would have been extraordinary. Do you wish it had happened? The collaboration? Clapton was quiet for a long time. Then

yes, whether the phone call happened or not, I wish we’d worked together. Not because I needed validation from Jimmy. We were peers, equals in different ways, but because I think we could have pushed each other. My precision would have challenged his chaos. His courage would have challenged my caution. We might have made something neither of us could make alone. What do you think you would have learned from him? To be braver, to attempt things even when I wasn’t sure they’d work. I spent my career trying to

play perfectly. Jimmy spent his career trying to play daringly. Perfect and daring are different goals. I wish I’d learned more about daring from him while I had the chance. And what do you think he might have learned from you? Clapton smiled slightly. Maybe nothing. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe Jimmy didn’t need to learn discipline or technique. Maybe his genius was in refusing to be disciplined. Maybe if he’d become more like me, he’d have lost what made him Jimmy, and that would have been a

tragedy. Today, the story of the alleged phone call exists in a strange space between legend and history. We can’t prove it happened. We can’t prove it didn’t. The only witness is dead. One of the participants is dead. The other won’t confirm or deny. But music historians, biographers, and fans continue to repeat the story because it captures something true. Technical mastery and artistic courage are different kinds of greatness. Clapton had one, Hrix had the other, and both recognized what the other possessed.

Whether Hrix actually called Clapton 3 days before he died, we’ll never know. But we know this. Eric Clapton could play anything correctly. Precision was his gift. Jimmy Hendris would attempt anything courageously. Daring was his gift. and both understood, whether through that alleged phone call or through years of mutual respect, that neither was complete without what the other had. Clapton needed more courage. Hris needed more technique. The collaboration that might have combined both never happened. Jimmyi Hendris died

at 27, three days after allegedly making a phone call about combining skill and courage. Eric Clapton lived to 75 and beyond, carrying the knowledge or the legend of what might have been. Sometimes the stories we can’t prove are the ones that matter most. Not because they’re factually true, but because they’re emotionally, artistically, fundamentally true. Whether Hrix called Clapton or not, the truth in what was allegedly said is real. You can be technically better or artistically braver. You can play perfectly or play

daringly. And the greatest artists are the ones who find ways to do both. Jimmyi Hendris had courage Eric Clapton envied. Eric Clapton had skill Jimmyi Hendris respected. And three days before Hrix died, maybe possibly allegedly he called Clapton to say we should combine these gifts. The collaboration never happened, but the legend endures because sometimes what might have been is as powerful as what was. And sometimes the conversations that change us most are the ones we can never prove