They Laughed When Prince Picked Up Hendrix’s Guitar — 3 Minutes Later Slash Was ASKING for d

November 15th, 1987, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony at the Waldorf Histori Hotel in New York City. 800 of music’s biggest legends gathered in the ballroom’s golden glow. Among them sat 29-year-old Prince, quiet in his purple velvet jacket, watching as they brought out a glass case containing Jimmyi Hendris’s legendary white Fender Stratacastaster, the same guitar that set Woodstock on fire in 1969.

When ceremony host Little Richard announced they would auction the guitar for charity, the room buzzed with excitement. But when Prince stood up and walked toward the stage, legendary guitarist Keith Richards leaned over to MC Jagger and smirked, “This should be good for a laugh.” Pretty Boy thinks he can handle a real man’s guitar.

3 minutes later, Keith Richards would be eating those words, and Slash would be frantically scribbling notes on a napkin, begging Prince to teach him what he just witnessed. If you want to discover the untold moments that changed rock history forever, please subscribe to our channel and turn on notifications.

What you’re about to witness proves that true mastery recognizes no boundaries. The story really begins 6 months earlier in a cramped rehearsal studio in Minneapolis. Prince was working on what would become his sino the times album, but he was frustrated. Warner Brothers executives had been pressuring him to make more radio friendly music and music critics kept dismissing him as a pop artist who relied too heavily on studio production.

Rolling Stone magazine had just published a scathing review calling Prince a synthetic musician who hides behind synthesizers because he can’t play real rock guitar. The article particularly stung because it compared him unfavorably to guitar legends like Hrix, Paige, and Clapton. That same week, a young guitar teacher named Marcus Webb was struggling to make ends meet in Los Angeles.

Marcus had grown up idolizing both Hrix and Prince, but his classical guitar training made him an outcast in the rock scene. His students constantly asked him to teach them Prince’s techniques. But Marcus had to admit he couldn’t figure out how Prince achieved those otherworldly sounds. Purple Rain seemed simple on the surface, but when Marcus tried to replicate it, something was always missing.

That indefinable magic that made Prince’s guitar sing differently than anyone else’s. Marcus had saved for 3 years to attend the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony, hoping to network with industry professionals. He was seated in the back, watching nervously as legends like Chuck Barry, the Beach Boys, and Artha Franklin were inducted.

Then came the surprise announcement. They would auction Hris’s actual Woodstock Stratacaster to raise money for music education programs. Little Richard took the microphone with his characteristic flare. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the guitar that changed everything. The same Stratacaster that Jimmy used to make that guitar weep, scream, and soar at Woodstock. Starting bid is $50,000.

Hands shot up around the room. Eddie Van Halen bid60,000/countered with 70. The price climbed quickly. 80 90 $100,000. Then Keith Richards stood up and bid $125,000. The room fell silent. Who could compete with a rolling stone? That’s when Prince quietly raised his hand. 150,000. Keith Richards turned around, his weathered face showing surprise and mild annoyance.

Well, well, the purple one wants to play with the big boys. Prince nodded respectfully, but said nothing. The bidding continued. Richards 175, Prince 200. Back and forth they went, the room watching this unexpected duel between rock royalty and pop royalty. Finally, at $300,000, Keith Richards threw up his hands in mock surrender.

It’s yours, kid, but owning it and playing it are two different things. The room chuckled. Prince walked to the stage to claim his purchase. Little Richard handed him the guitar with ceremony befitting its legend. Mr. Prince, you now own a piece of rock history. Would you like to say a few words? Prince took the microphone, his voice soft but clear.

Jimmy Hendris was a master. This guitar deserves to be played, not displayed. He paused, then looked out at the audience. With respect to everyone here, may I? The request sent whispers through the crowd. Play Hrix’s actual guitar at a formal ceremony. Steven Tyler leaned forward. This should be interesting, he muttered to Joe Perry.

Let’s see if the Pop Prince can handle real rock and roll. Prince adjusted the guitar strap, his movements careful and reverent. He ran his fingers along the neck, feeling the wear patterns left by Hrix’s own hands nearly 20 years earlier. The guitar wasn’t even plugged into an amp, just the raw acoustic sound would have to do in this quiet ballroom.

He closed his eyes and began to play. Before we reveal what happened next, I want to ask you something. Have you ever been in a situation where people doubted your abilities based on their preconceptions? How did you prove them wrong? Share your stories in the comments. The first notes were barely audible, a gentle haunting melody that seemed to float through the air.

Prince wasn’t trying to show off or prove anything. He was having a conversation with the ghost in the guitar. Marcus Webb, sitting in the back, felt chills run down his spine. He was watching Prince channel something ancient and powerful. Then Prince began to play Purple Haze, but not like anyone had ever heard it before.

His fingers found harmonics that seemed impossible, bending notes in ways that made the guitar sound like it was singing in multiple voices. Without an amplifier, he was making the acoustic guitar produce sounds that defied physics. The ballroom designed for speeches and dinner conversations became a cathedral of sound.

Slash, who had been casually sipping champagne, slowly put down his glass. His mouth opened slightly as he watched Prince’s left hand work the fretboard with surgical precision, while his right hand coaxed sounds from the strings that shouldn’t have been possible on an unplugged electric guitar.

“How the hell is he doing that?” slash whispered to no one in particular. Keith Richards, who had started this whole thing with his mocking comment, found himself leaning forward, studying every movement of Prince’s hands. This wasn’t the Prince he knew from MTV. This was someone channeling the essence of blues, rock, and something beyond category.

Prince transitioned seamlessly from Purple Haze into Little Wing. But his interpretation was nothing like Hrix’s original. It was more delicate, more nuanced, yet somehow more powerful. He was showing that he understood not just Hrix’s technique, but his soul. The guitar seemed to be weeping and laughing at the same time.

Marcus Webb was frantically trying to memorize every finger placement, every subtle movement. This was the education he’d been seeking for years, compressed into three minutes of pure artistry. As Prince played the final notes of Little Wing, something extraordinary happened. The guitar seemed to sustain longer than should have been possible, the notes hanging in the air like incense.

When the last vibration faded, the ballroom remained in complete silence for what felt like an eternity. Then Keith Richards started clapping slowly at first, then with genuine enthusiasm. The rest of the room erupted in applause, but it wasn’t the polite applause of a formal ceremony. It was the raw appreciation of musicians recognizing something transcendent.

Slash stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. He made his way through the tables toward the stage, his usual cool demeanor completely abandoned. “Excuse me,” he said to Prince, his voice shaky with excitement. “I have to ask. How did you make it sing like that?” I’ve been playing guitar for 15 years and I’ve never heard anyone make an unplugged electric sound like that.

Prince smiled gently and handed Slash the guitar. It’s not about the guitar. It’s about listening to what it wants to say. Slash took the instrument with reverence. But when he tried to replicate even the simplest passage Prince had played, the guitar sounded ordinary again. Just wood and metal, no magic.

There’s something you’re doing that I can’t see, Slash said, frustration evident in his voice. Would you could you show me? Marcus Webb watched in amazement as one of rock’s most respected guitarists asked Prince for a lesson. Right there on the stage of the Waldorf Histori. Prince nodded graciously. The secret isn’t in the fingers.

It’s an understanding that every guitar has its own voice. You have to find its voice first before you can make it say what you want. He took the guitar back and demonstrated a simple chord progression, but his approach was completely different. Instead of attacking the strings, he seemed to be having a conversation with them.

Each note was deliberate, purposeful, connected to the next in a way that created an emotional narrative rather than just a sequence of sounds. Keith Richards had moved closer to the stage as well. The man who had mocked Prince 30 minutes earlier was now studying his technique with the intensity of a student.

I’ve been playing for 40 years, Richard said quietly. And I’ve never seen anyone make a guitar respond like that. How do you find the voice? Prince looked at Richards with respect. You already know the voice. You’ve been playing it for 40 years. You just call it something different. Blues, rock, whatever.

It’s all the same conversation. The guitar doesn’t know what genre it’s supposed to be. Over the next hour, the formal ceremony transformed into an impromptu masterclass. Prince demonstrated techniques that seemed to break the rules of physics. He showed how to use the guitar’s natural resonance to create sustain without amplification.

How to bend strings in ways that produced multiple harmonics. How to make the instrument breathe and speak. Marcus Webb filled five napkins with notes, trying to capture not just the technical aspects, but the philosophy behind Prince’s approach. Don’t try to control the guitar, Prince explained to the small group that had gathered around the stage.

Dance with it. Let it surprise you. The moment you think you know everything it can do, you stop listening. Steven Tyler, who had been skeptical earlier, was now asking questions like a firstear student. When you played Purple Haze, it sounded like three guitars at once. How is that possible? Prince demonstrated the technique using open string sympathetic resonance combined with precise harmonic placement to create the illusion of multiple instruments. Jimmy knew this.

Prince said he just never talked about it. He let the music speak. As the evening wound down, something unprecedented happened. Keith Richards, Eddie Van Halen/stephven Tyler, and several other guitar legends had formed an informal circle around Prince. All of them asking questions, taking notes, and trying to absorb techniques that challenged everything they thought they knew about their instrument.

Now, I want to ask you something that might change your perspective on learning. When was the last time you approached your craft with beginner’s mind, willing to be taught by someone you initially underestimated? The best part of this story is still coming. Slash later described that night as a humbling experience.

I thought I understood guitar. I thought I knew what it meant to be a guitarist. Prince showed me I was still in kindergarten. And he did it with such grace, such generosity. No ego, no showboating, just pure artistry. Marcus Webb approached Prince as the evening ended. Sir, I’m a guitar teacher in Los Angeles.

what you showed tonight, it’s revolutionary. Would you ever consider doing workshops? Prince smiled. Every performance is a workshop. Every song is a lesson. The question is whether people are ready to listen. He paused, then added, “Keep teaching. The world needs more people who understand that music is bigger than any single approach.

” 3 months later, Marcus received a package with no return address. Inside was a collection of handwritten musical notation, chord progressions, technique notes, and philosophical observations about guitar playing. The note attached read simply for your students. Music belongs to everyone. P. That package became the foundation of what Marcus would later call the Purple Method, a guitar teaching approach that emphasized listening, conversation, and emotional connection with the instrument rather than just technical proficiency. Over the next decade, he would teach thousands of students, many of whom went on to become professional musicians. Keith Richards in a 2010 interview called That Night at the Waldorf one of the most educational evenings of my career. He said, “Prince taught me that there’s always more to learn. After 40 years of playing, I thought I knew it

all. He showed me I was wrong, and I’m grateful for it.” The Hendrick Stratacastaster that started it all wasn’t kept as a museum piece. True to his word, Prince played it regularly. He used it on several recordings and brought it out for special performances. In 2009, when he performed While My Guitar Gently Weeps at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony, he played Hrix’s guitar, a moment that many consider one of the greatest guitar performances in rock history.

When Prince died in 2016, the guitar was donated to the Experience Music Project in Seattle, now known as the Museum of Pop Culture. But attached to the case was a note in Prince’s handwriting. This guitar taught me that owning history and honoring history are different things. May it continue to teach.

Slash, who went on to have one of the most successful guitar careers in rock history, credited that evening with transforming his approach to music. Prince didn’t just show me new techniques. He showed me a new way of thinking about the guitar as a living thing, not just an object. Every time I pick up a guitar now, I remember that lesson about listening first.

The evening at the Waldorf Histori became legendary among musicians, but it was rarely discussed publicly. It was too personal, too transformative. As Steven Tyler put it, “Some moments are too sacred to turn into sound bites.” That night was about music in its purest form. One master sharing wisdom with others who were humble enough to receive it.

Today, the techniques Prince demonstrated that evening continue to influence guitarists around the world. The purple method that Marcus Webb developed has been taught in music schools across the country. And every November 15th, guitar players gather informally in venues around the world to share knowledge, ask questions, and remember the night when Prince proved that true mastery isn’t about showing off.

It’s about lifting others up. The guitar that started it all, Hendrickx’s white stratacastaster, remains on display in Seattle, where thousands of visitors each year run their fingers along the glass case, dreaming of the music it is witnessed. But the real legacy isn’t in the guitar itself. It’s in the lesson Prince taught that night.

That music belongs to everyone, that learning never ends, and that the greatest guitarists are not those who hoard their knowledge, but those who share it freely. In Marcus Webb’s teaching studio in Los Angeles, a framed napkin hangs on the wall, one of the five he filled with notes that evening.

Students often ask him about it. Marcus always tells them the same thing. That napkin represents the night I learned the difference between playing guitar and making music speak, the difference between technique and artistry, the difference between knowing and understanding. Thank you for joining us on this journey through one of rock history’s most transformative moments.

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