September 18, 1970. That’s the date. It’s a Friday morning in London that changed music forever. Honestly, if you ask most people about it, they’ll say "drugs." But the reality of when did jimi hendrix die is way more cluttered and tragic than a simple one-word answer.
It wasn't some dramatic rockstar exit with guitars smashing and lights flashing. It was quiet. It was messy. And it happened in a basement apartment at the Samarkand Hotel in Notting Hill.
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The Final Hours in London
Jimi was exhausted. You've gotta understand the context of his life in late 1970. He’d just finished a grueling European tour. His last show at the Isle of Fehmarn in Germany was a total disaster—rain, booing crowds, and literal biker gangs causing chaos. He was tired, stressed, and dealing with a bunch of legal headaches.
On the night of September 17, he was with Monika Dannemann, a German figure skater he'd been seeing. They had tea. They shared a bottle of white wine. Hendrix even wrote a poem that some later mislabeled as a suicide note. Around 1:45 a.m., he went to a party hosted by a business associate. He didn't stay long. By 3:00 a.m., he and Monika were back at the flat.
Here’s where it gets heavy. Jimi couldn't sleep. He asked Monika for some of her sleeping pills—Vesparax. These weren't your average over-the-counter aids. They were strong. The recommended dose was half a tablet.
Jimi took nine.
The Timeline of a Tragedy
What happened next is a blur of conflicting stories. Monika claimed she woke up around 10:20 a.m. and found him breathing normally. She said she went out for cigarettes and came back to find him unresponsive. But the paramedics, Reg Jones and John Saua, remembered it differently.
When they arrived at 11:27 a.m., the door was wide open. The flat was empty except for Jimi. He was lying on the bed, fully clothed—flamboyantly so—and he was already cold. There was no pulse.
- 11:18 a.m. – The first call for an ambulance was placed.
- 11:27 a.m. – Paramedics arrived at the Samarkand Hotel.
- 12:45 p.m. – Jimi Hendrix was officially pronounced dead at St. Mary Abbots Hospital.
The autopsy was clear but grim. He didn't die from an "overdose" in the way people usually think—meaning his heart didn't just stop from the drugs. He died of asphyxiation. He had vomited while unconscious from the barbiturates and breathed it into his lungs. He was 27.
Why the Mystery Won't Die
Why do people still argue about when did jimi hendrix die and how? Because the stories don't line up. Monika Dannemann’s testimony changed constantly over the years. First, she was in the ambulance; then she wasn't. First, he was alive when they found him; then he’d been dead for hours.
Then you have the conspiracy theories. Some people, including a former roadie named James "Tappy" Wright, claimed Jimi’s manager, Michael Jeffery, had him killed for insurance money. Others pointed fingers at the CIA or the "mafia."
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The truth is likely much simpler and sadder. It was a mistake. A tired man took too many pills because he just wanted to sleep.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Historians
If you’re looking to truly understand the end of the Hendrix era, don't just look at the date. Look at the pressure he was under.
- Check the Autopsy Reports: If you're researching this, look for the "open verdict" recorded by coroner Gavin Thurston. It means the court couldn't definitively say if it was an accident or suicide (though most experts agree it was accidental).
- Visit the Memorial: He isn't buried in London. His body was flown back to his hometown. He rests at Greenwood Memorial Park in Renton, Washington.
- Listen to the Last Recording: Two days before he died, he sat in with Eric Burdon’s band, War, at Ronnie Scott’s. It’s a haunting, raw performance of "Tobacco Road."
Jimi didn't want to be a martyr. He told a journalist just days before, "I'm almost gone," but he was also talking about new music, new directions, and a "new cathedral" of sound. He was just out of time.
To honor his legacy, start by exploring the Band of Gypsys era recordings. This shows the direction he was headed—fusing funk, rock, and soul—before that Friday morning in London cut everything short.