Jimi Hendrix’s final words to his roadie came just moments after a violent clash with Hells Angels at his last concert, an episode that sheds new light on the chaos and uncertainty surrounding the rock legend’s final days.
Eric Barrett, who worked as Hendrix’s roadie and confidant from 1968 to 1970, described in detail the harrowing events at the Isle of Fehmarn festival in Germany, where Hendrix performed his last official concert on September 6, 1970. As he recounted to Fox News Digital, the festival spiraled out of control when hundreds of Hells Angels descended on the scene, creating a dangerous atmosphere for performers and fans alike.
Barrett said, “We were playing on the Isle of Fehmarn, and the Hells Angels had taken over. There was no control. It was a scary place to be.” As Hendrix and his team tried to escape, Barrett saw a Hells Angel about to strike tour manager Gerry Stickells with a baton. “I put my arm up to take the blow,” Barrett remembered. “I nearly passed out from the pain, but imagine if it had landed on Gerry’s skull?” The group managed to reach a waiting car, but not before Barrett was hurt shielding his colleague.
Inside the car, Hendrix’s concern was for his friend’s well-being. Barrett said, “He just said to me, ‘Are you OK, Eric? Are you OK?’ He kept asking me if I was OK. That’s just the kind of man he was. And... that was the last thing he ever said to me.”
That quiet moment would prove to be Hendrix’s final words to Barrett. Less than two weeks later, on September 18, 1970, paramedics arrived at Monika Dannemann’s apartment at the Samarkand Hotel in London and found Hendrix unresponsive. He was just 27 years old.
The Isle of Fehmarn festival, by Barrett’s account, had descended into violence and chaos. He described fans being beaten and robbed, and the Hells Angels taking charge of the venue. “There was no control. It was a scary place to be,” Barrett recalled, emphasizing the disorder that surrounded Hendrix’s last performance. Despite the intimidation and danger, Hendrix took the stage, even responding to audience boos with characteristic wit: “I don’t give a f--- if you boo, as long as you boo in key, you mothers.”
After the show, the threat from the Hells Angels was immediate and physical. Barrett’s intervention to protect Stickells from a baton blow could have had fatal consequences if it had struck Stickells instead. Barrett said he “nearly passed out from the pain,” but the band managed to escape the chaos. Hendrix’s repeated concern for Barrett’s injury highlights the deep loyalty and friendship within the group, even in the face of violence.
Hendrix’s sudden death remains one of rock’s lingering mysteries, fueling conspiracy theories and sensational claims over the decades. Barrett, who was just 24 when Hendrix died, has consistently rejected allegations that Hendrix was murdered or that his manager, Mike Jeffery, was involved. Barrett told Fox News Digital, “It was a stupid, tragic accident. I don’t believe for a second that Mike Jeffery was the cause of Jimi’s death. I just don’t believe it. I was there, and right now I’m probably the last man standing. All the lads are passing. So no, I wouldn’t believe that for a second.”
Barrett recalled that paramedics tried to revive Hendrix but could not. In his memoir, “Experienced: On the Road with Jimi Hendrix and Beyond,” Barrett wrote, “The paramedics arrived but couldn’t revive Jimi. They carried him out on a stretcher to the ambulance, assuring Monika that he was going to be all right. Either lying in bed on his back or on the way to the hospital, Jimi threw up on himself. The post-mortem concluded that Jimi had died of asphyxia while intoxicated with barbiturates.”
Barrett admitted he initially lied to reporters about Hendrix’s drug use to protect his friend’s reputation, but now says, “Yes, he took drugs. He smoked pot. He took a lot of LSD. He took pills. But I don’t believe he was into heroin. I’ve never seen heroin anywhere near him.”
For all the wild stories about Hendrix’s lifestyle, Barrett described him as “quiet, mild-mannered, polite young man... very charming. And he was shy.” Barrett’s account paints a far more complex portrait than the media caricature, emphasizing Hendrix’s care for those around him and his quiet generosity. On Barrett’s birthday, for example, Hendrix handed him $500 and told him, “Happy birthday, man. Here’s some money. Go and buy yourself something you really want.”
Barrett also recounted Hendrix’s anxiety about his legacy. “Eric, what do you think, will they remember me?” Hendrix once asked. Barrett replied, “Will they remember you? You’re huge over here.” Hendrix pressed, “Are you sure, Eric? What if the kids don’t come?” Barrett reassured him, “When it comes to success, you have nothing to worry about.”
Barrett’s memoir and his recent interview offer a rare, firsthand look at the final days of an artist whose influence has only grown. His loyalty, shielding his friend from physical harm, protecting his reputation, and preserving the truth as he saw it, stands in sharp contrast to the chaos and opportunism that can dominate the music industry, even decades later.
As the legends and theories swirl, Barrett’s account is a reminder that fame brings danger, but real character is revealed in moments of crisis, and in the questions that still echo long after the music ends.
