What should I make of this essay?

Informal logic class. Student writing in response to critical thinking and ethics:

Hendrix was a god. His licks were as quickly and perfectly placed as posts of lighting, his performances were something to behold, and his clothes were as wild as Dylan’s. He kissed “the sky” and “this guy” at the same time, and his “excuse” was only as colorfully vague as the meaning of Purple Haze itself. His genius was that he blurred the lines between questionable and acceptable, or at the very least, our perceptions of these lines. While it is easy to see that Jimi Hendrix is a bit of an enigma, his greatness remains debatable to some. Therefore, behold the Star Spangled Banner, and the reason Jimi Hendrix played it.
The year is 1969. By the time you see Hendrix walk on, the stage is already set; and it is necessarily so, by mixed emotions. With his left hand, he wiggles out the first few notes. At the same time, with his right, he turns a tuning-key toward the audience. The guitar begins and you remember the first few words to a song you already know.
You look closer to the performer for some clue. On stage is nothing but a man with a guitar. You wonder about what might be behind him. What could be causing this noise? You look and look and all you see is Hendrix and a guitar. He looks puny.
“…Seeeee,” his guitar sings out. “…See?” Not a few seconds into the song, you begin to sense something. It’s not in the pitch or the words of the melody. You wonder if it might be in his tremolo. Is it a broken heart? It gives that liberating feeling that you get right before tears. Somehow, though, it just doesn’t last long enough to be broken. The only thing you know is the song.
You look, again, to the performer. On stage, again, is nothing more than a man with a guitar. You wonder, again, about what might be behind him. There has to be something you can’t see. You look and look, but all that you see is Hendrix. He looks puny.
“…O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly….” You feel something powerful as you connect melody and meaning. This feeling is different than before, because it resembles certainty. That “gallantly” must be sarcasm. His playing is so lyrical that you think you know for sure. You then wonder if this song might have a different meaning.
Just then, for a split second, you think you see something else on stage. You look closer, but still nothing but a man with a guitar. You wonder if this thing ducked behind him. There must be something you can’t see. You look and look, but all you see is Jimi. He just looks so puny.
You both look at his fingers as they squirm out “through the perilous fight.” You ponder the idea and ask, “Weren’t we here already?” Suddenly, no more rules. Suddenly, you realize that you don’t remember the words to the rest of the song and that you no longer care that you never cared about the words to the song and that you knew this was going to happen right from
the start and that it doesn’t matter because everyone knows that this is what needs to be said. Then you finally see what must be happening. There must be this monster or beast making this immovable noise. It must be huge and have the face of a dragon and speak only in growly guitar and fiery distortion and raw emotion and dissonance and harmony. You must speak its language.
Jimi Hendrix gave an explicit answer to the question at hand, one month after Woodstock. "I don't know man, all I did was play it. I'm American so I played it. I used to have to sing it in school, they made me sing it in school, so, it's a flashback.”