Jim Morrison's voice comes bellowing out of old Doors songs like a cannonball sure of its way. A photo of the man oozes self-confidence, command, charm, and a bittersweet recognition that his is one of the strangest lives ever led.
As alumni of the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television, Morrison and Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek had a keen grasp of performance art. But what was the group's core message? The name The Doors comes from the Wiliam Blake poem "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" by way of Aldus Huxley's book, The Doors of Perception; the key passage from Blake being: "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is: infinite." In other words, this is what music sounds like once all other distractions are swept away. But talk about distractions: personal relationships, the media, live performances, critical reviews; the only way for The Doors to reach that goal would have been to live like monks, ignoring all else in the world save Music. Fat chance; they were performers.
My own sense of what was possible given this basic contradiction is that if Morrison had been able to make it into later life, he'd have slowed down, mellowed and abandoned live performance for the one-way control of a recording studio; people hearing you, but not you them. In fact, that was the scenario playing out just before he died: the band had all but given up live shows, and instead we got gems like L.A. Woman.
So what to make of their music? In a famously dismissive article in Newsweek (March 24th, 1991), at the time of the Oliver Stone biopic, conservative columnist George Will asks about "Break On Through (To The Other Side)": "Through what? To what? Don't ask. The Doors didn't." Perhaps Will's is a steamed up shower door from all the hot air. From the moment I hear those first few notes stepping smartly, "da da, da; da da-da, da da-da-da" (2-1, 3, 4) I'm on board. And the lyrics?
Take these: "I found an island in your arms; country in your eyes; arms that chain; eyes that lie; break on through to the other side." I rest my case. This is simply saying: enough; turn your back on what bothers you, if you can.
And that's The Doors for you. If Morrison had lived, he probably would have shed the unsavory, going into rehab or what not, and found that without the up front distractions of fandom, media, police, promotion and the compromised instincts these involve, the life of a poet and musician would have been, indeed, breaking on through (to the other side).
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Each band or performer is graded on four things:
1. Innovation
2. Influence in my life--as a typical American
3. Integrity: the band's approach to music (just making a buck or honing a craft?)
4. Immortality--am I, a typical American--still eager to hear their music
9/9//5/5 = 28 out of a perfect 40
1. Innovation
2. Influence in my life--as a typical American
3. Integrity: the band's approach to music (just making a buck or honing a craft?)
4. Immortality--am I, a typical American--still eager to hear their music
9/9//5/5 = 28 out of a perfect 40
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That famous line in L.A. Woman, "Mr. Mojo Risin'"? The artful explanation, perhaps doled out to a titter-tutter press, was that, unscrambled, the letters spell out someone's name. And if you start with a 'j' and end with an 'n' you'll dig it soon enough.
