"It was no surprise that Jimi split. He was a long time dying and he gave us adequate warning. He cut his wrists when he was a poor boy eating more shit than ever. The first time I ever saw him was, after all, like the last. He was trapped by a huge dooby crowd on a high stage in the corner of a cattle shed in Spalding. The air was hot and rank because all the sliding cattle-doors were shut but one and the promoters had split, leaving the kids to struggle in the heat and the dirt while the police snooped round them with dogs trained to sniff out the drugs that none of them had the money to buy. We got in, in the chaos, for nothing, and there was Jimi caught like bright bird underneath a corrugated-iron roof in the stink of cattle shit and sweating English youth. The crowd was so dense that those who fainted couldn't even fall down." - 'Hey, Jimi, Where You Gonna Run To Now?', Germaine Greer in Oz, 1970.