Back in the spring of 1968, something wild went down at a small, smoky New York club called The Scene. On stage was the legendary guitar wizard Jimi Hendrix — relaxed, free-spirited and ready to jam. The audience that night reportedly included faces like Janis Joplin along with many other rock-world regulars.
Then unexpectedly, frontman Jim Morrison of The Doors — drunk and unsteady — stumbled on stage and grabbed the mic. What should’ve been a magical moment — two giants jamming together — quickly turned chaotic.
What went down: chaos instead of harmony
As Hendrix and some other musicians played blues-style jams, Morrison started yelling into the mic, slurring and screaming incoherently. An eyewitness described him as “slurring, very stoned.”
At one point, the story goes, Morrison allegedly dropped to his knees and engaged in a crude, mocking act onstage, wrapping his arms around Hendrix’s legs. According to one account: he shouted “I wanna suck your cock!” — a wild, shocking moment for many present.
That set off a reaction. Janis Joplin — who apparently disliked Morrison’s vibe — was said to have stormed onto the stage, grabbed a bottle of liquor and smashed it over his head. That was the spark. Chaos erupted.
The aftermath was intense: the three — Hendrix, Morrison, and Joplin — reportedly ended up wrestling in a cloud of dust and broken glass, while other musicians tried to keep playing. Some people were hurt. The club was packed, hot and sweaty, and things got messy fast.
To many, what could have been a landmark moment in rock history — Hendrix meeting Morrison at the height of their powers — instead became a chaotic footnote: a cautionary tale of ego, intoxication and poor timing.
The recording — and why it still matters
That night was not completely lost to history. Hendrix had a reel-to-reel tape recorder with him, and somehow the session was recorded. Over the years, tapes from that night have surfaced on unofficial “bootleg” albums under names like Bleeding Heart, Woke Up This Morning and Found Myself Dead, Sky High and others.
The Del Mello Theory
But listenability and legacy? That’s where things get rough. Critics and historians generally agree the result is “lo-fi,” messy, and marred by Morrison’s drunken performance. The guitar work by Hendrix still shines — raw, spontaneous, powerful — but Morrison’s vocals are often described as abrasive or “obscene.”
As one reviewer put it: while it’s “interesting because it captures two ’60s icons sharing a stage,” nothing on it can really be called essential.
What this night shows us — and why we talk about it today
This tumultuous evening captures a lot of what made the late ’60s rock world so compelling — and so volatile. On one hand, this was an era built on experimentation, collaboration, spontaneity. Artists like Hendrix thrived on impromptu jams, chance meetings, and creative collisions. On the other hand — with excesses, ego, drugs, alcohol — those same collisions could blow up in spectacularly tragic ways.
The Hendrix–Morrison jam is often remembered not as a glorious meeting of minds, but as a cautionary tale: a moment when rock-star mythology collided with real human flaws. It’s a messy, flawed but deeply human moment — a reminder that behind the legends, rockers were just people with all the contradictions and chaos that implies.
For fans today, it remains fascinating — warts and all. You can listen to the bootlegs, imagine that basement club packed with 1968’s outlaw spirits, and sense how close they came to something magical. Or how quickly it all unraveled.