Voodoo Child, and the Power to Walk Away

I remember the first time I heard it — Hendrix tearing through the amp with that opening wah pedal like he was pulling thunder from the earth.

“I’m a voodoo child, Lord knows I’m a voodoo child.”

I didn’t know what it meant. Not fully. But I felt it.
And when I looked at my dad, I could see he did too.

This song is chaos and power and soul. It’s defiance. It’s freedom. It’s walking into a storm and deciding you’re not afraid anymore.

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Now, years later, I wonder if it was more than just a cool guitar riff.
Maybe it was about becoming someone who can leave.
Someone who won’t be controlled.
Someone who knows how much energy it takes to stand up and say, enough.

When Hendrix sang about chopping down a mountain or standing next to a fire and making it rain — I think he was talking about spiritual power. Not ego. But the kind of power you find when you reclaim yourself.

That’s what it felt like for me, especially as I got older.
Especially as I saw some of the emotional dynamics in my family more clearly.
Especially with my mum.

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It’s strange. My dad and I didn’t always have the words.
But when this song came on, we didn’t need them.
There was something mutual in that moment.
Maybe a shared ache.
Maybe a shared pride in seeing the fire in each other’s eyes.

It’s the song that made me fall in love with guitar.
Because it wasn’t just music — it was expression.
It said things I didn’t know how to say.
It screamed when I couldn’t.

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I’m still learning how to walk away from things that don’t serve me.
Still learning how to channel the power, not suppress it.
But every time I hear that song, I remember that I can.

And I remember the look on my dad’s face the first time he saw me really play.
As if to say: You’ve got it too.

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“I didn’t mean to take up all your sweet time… I’ll give it right back one of these days.”

Maybe not today.
But one of these days — I’ll play this song for my son.
And I’ll mean every note.

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