but it all works. When other guitar players talk to me, that’s what they are complimenting me on more than anything else. So you never played a guitar in the presence of Hendrix? I was twelve years old, and he was twenty-two. I’m trying to under- stand the alphabet, and he’s already William Shakespeare. I didn’t even know what to ask him. Marvin asked him stuff. “How do you know when to change strings to get a note?” Jimi was great with kids—incredibly patient—and tried his best to articulate it, but he was left-handed. I thought to myself, “Let me just be quiet, listen, and maybe some of his vibe will rub off.” And for all I know, it did. If I had been standing around asking him questions, I would have missed it. That’s not what our relationship was about. It was more about let me get my homework done while Jimi plays his gui- tar looking out the window. Because his guitar was a Stratocaster, I
our back room. Then they looked at his guitar and said, “You play that thing you’ve got very well, but suppose we get you a new one.” Jimi said, “What?!” “Yeah, man. What kind do you want?” “Can I have a white Strat?” “Sure.” “Oh, my God!” Whenever I think of Jimi Hendrix, I’m always ten or eleven years old, still playing baseball, and just starting to play drums. What I remember about Jimi is he became the star of the Isleys’ band before his first rehearsal was over. Nobody played like he played. It was like his guitar didn’t have any wrong notes on it. To this day, emotion- ally, he’s the best to me. Was he just doing funky rhythm stuff behind the Isleys? He was doing “him” even back then. He said this on film: “The Isley Brothers were the only ones that allowed me to do my thing.” He was that good then. I just think the amps got bigger later. What was he like at home? He was quiet, well behaved, and minded his own business. He was playing guitar before, during, and after every rehearsal. I used to think, “Why is he practicing?” He didn’t need to. He often played looking out of our front window. He would bring his guitar out of the bedroom, strap it on, look out the window, and just be playing. If an ambulance went by, he’d try to make his guitar sound like that. He would practice things that Marvin and I saw him do, but nobody else did. They’d see him do it onstage. Stuff like playing behind his back and with his teeth. Everyone else would be wonder- ing, “How the hell did he do that?” Then suddenly, he thanked my brothers for everything, but said he wanted to do his own thing. They wished him well and told him he could keep the guitar. A couple of years later in ’67, I went into a record store and saw this big picture like a reverse mirror of the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Ronald already had the cassette. All the kids in school were freaking out over “Purple Haze.” I listened and thought, “Okay, it has a lot of reverb on the vocal...what’s the big deal?” But when I heard “Manic Depression” and thought, “That’s the guy who was playing in my mama’s picture window in 1963…” At school, I’d be in study hall reading American history while the other guys had their heads in guitar magazines, where they found out that Jimi once played for the Isleys. But my favorite guitar player by this time was José Feliciano, and the guys could not believe it. The teacher almost had to make us stay behind for detention behind that argument! I said, “José has taken this song by the Doors and made it possible for you to really get into the lyric and the melody. He did a completely different arrangement. He’s playing an acoustic guitar. And on top of all that, he’s blind!” They stopped talking to me after that. It’s ironic, because five years later, I was playing “Who’s That Lady,” not sounding like Santana, Hendrix, or Clapton. Just Ernie. “How the hell did he do that?” How did you do that? By the grace of God. [ laughs ] I picked up an acoustic guitar and start- ed playing it. All I wanted to do was play “Light My Fire” the way that José Feliciano played it. I’m self- taught. I just had a real strong desire to play. I figured if I learned “Light My Fire,” then maybe I could learn “Love Is Blue,” then “Soul Man,” then the opening riff of “My Girl,” then maybe “Shaft.” I just kept adding on until finally you see how it all works. It all fits depending on what I’m trying to do. “Coolin’ Me Out” is different from “Climbing Up the Ladder,”
could hear all of it perfectly well...provided I was quiet. How did you, Marvin, and Chris get started?
[Chris’s] mother was married to my brother Rudolph. Chris came up one summer from Cincinnati, and they introduced us. He was about three months older than me. We were looking at each other like, “Whatever.” Then I sat at the drums, and he sat at the piano, and, within a few seconds, we knew something was happening. We needed a bass player, so Marvin was drafted. We called ourselves the Jassman Trio and played schools, bowling alleys, and for our own enjoyment. We had our own sessions with a little tape recorder in my mother’s living room on Friday and Saturday nights until finally (and reluctantly), the brothers let us start playing with them. You and Marvin along with Chris were the first in your fam- ily to attend college. From 1970 to 1974, we were music majors at C.W. Post College in Long Island. The records were coming out. Chris, Marvin, and I all attended—rarely all in the same class but often had the same teachers at different times. I felt like Clark Kent during the week, who got to be a hotshot guitar player on the weekend. We’d been playing on the albums for a while. Then 3+3 came out with our picture on the cover. I’d be in philosophy class, and this guy asked me something about Plato and Socrates. Then the next thing he asked was, “Is that really you playing guitar on ‘Who’s That Lady?’ ” Even the teachers were astounded. “You mean you guys are on the radio but still show up to class and pay attention?” They took us a lot more serious then. When did you begin writing songs? We made up instrumentals to begin with. Then, entirely unplanned, we started writing lyrics. On 3+3 , I did “If You Were There.” I also did the first and second verse of “Who’s That Lady,” and Chris did the third verse. The 1964 version was based on a cha-cha/bossa nova [structure] like the Impressions’ “Gypsy Woman.” But the older brothers said they wanted to change it up completely…and that I was going to take a guitar solo on it. Though all six Isley Brothers were credited with writing all of the songs, which ones were you primarily respon- sible for? “Brown Eyed Girl,” “Fight the Power,” “Hope You Feel Better Love,” “Make Me Say It Again, Girl,” “Harvest for the World,” “Voyage to Atlantis,” “Footsteps in the Dark,” “Climbing Up the Ladder,” “Under the Influence,” and “At Your Best (You Are Love).” We never released “At Your Best” as a single. Then Aaliyah
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Photograph by Tom Copi, Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images.
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