Post by darkstar on Jan 21, 2005 15:05:43 GMT
KANSAS & I AND THE DOORS as recollected by Kerry Livgren
In the summer of 1970, Kansas (the first rendition of the band) got
an opportunity to go to New Orleans and play for a couple of weeks at
a club in the French Quarter called the "Inner Section."
The reasons I was particularly excited was that that the guys had met
quite a few musicians in New Orleans that I would probably never get
the chance to meet in Kansas. On one occassion, Jim Morrison of the
Doors (who I understand like to hang out in New Orleans), came into
the club where White Clover was playing and got up on stage
and "jammed" with them. Actually, I think the jamming consisted of
some ad lib free form poetry and sang. Being a big Doors fan, I found
this story intriguing. The Kanasas band was so dirt poor that at one
point we wrote Morrison a letter begging him for money to keep us
going. (We never heard back).
On nights when we weren't playing we'd go over to the Warehouse and
see whoever was there. I got to see "The Band," which was quite a
treat as I was a big fan of theirs also. While we were there we saw a
poster for the Doors who were coming the following week. We went nuts
and begged Fox to let us open the show for them. He always liked us,
so he set it up with Doors management and they gave us the gig. (In
those days things like that happened.)
We really thought we had our big break. Needless to say, the
anicipation and excitement were at an all time high. Just to be able
to play at the Warehouse would have been a big deal, but to open for
the Doors was premium.
We showed up early to set up for the show. Kansas was a huge band on
stage, and I remember being amazed at how Spartan the Doors equipment
was. We kept looking around wondering when they would show up.
The Warehouse had but one small dressing room. With today's prima
donna band attitudes that would be unheard of. It was a small room
above the stage with a low ceiling and big wooden beams. Kansas
barely fit in there, much less anyone else.
At last the Doors came walking in -- all except Jim Morrison. We must
have been pretty "starry-eyed." I felt like I was in the presence of
some sort of deities.
I remember having a conversation with Ray Manzarek about keyboards he
used. I asked him why he never used anything else, like a Mellotron
(I was enarmored with those things.) He told me the Doors just didn't
need anything else for their sound.
Though we were in a reverie, we kept wondering when Morrison would
show up.
At last he came in the Door, (no pun) I remember that Phil Ehart, who
had met him before said, "Guys this is Jim Morrison." I stepped
forward and shook his hand, but Dan Wright, our organist, jumped up
from the chair he was in, hit his head on one of those low wooden
beams, and was knocked out cold on the floor. Morrison just looked at
him expressionless.
I remember thinking, "Oh, boy, not only is this profoundly
embarrassing, but now Dan is out cold and we can't play without him."
Fortunately he came to, and was able to play, albeit Dan had quite a
headache.
Jim Morrison definitely had an unusual presence. There was an air of
unpredictability about him. We could hardly take our eyes off of him.
At one point, he looked up at the wooden beam, hoisted himself up,
and hung upside down from it like a bat. He then started to recite
some (ad lib, I assumed) poetry. We were transfixed. I couldn't
believe I was in the room witnessing this. Then he suddenly dropped
off the beam and landed on the floor, laying as if he were dead. The
other members of the Doors seemed not the least concerned - as if
this happened every day. Morrison got up, brushed himself off, and
acted as if nothing unusual had happened. I don't recall a single
word of the poem.
I don't think Kansas had one of our better performances that night.
Things never seem to go well when there is that much adrenaline. I
remember thinking that everything sounded out of tune and it felt as
if I had duct tape around my fingers.
After our set, I went out into the audience to watch the Doors. That
band created an atmosphere that was completely unique. There was
something very dark and mysterious about their music. I don't believe
I have seen a singer that had such command over an audience. When
they were playing "When The Music's Over," and they got to the part
of the song where Morrison sings "we what the world and we want
it..." he paused, the band went completely silent, and he unscrewed
the mic stand from it's base and held it like a spear. You could have
heard a pin drop in that place. Nobody breathed. I remember
thinking "is he going to throw it?" NOWW!!! He didn't fortnately, but
it was quite a moment.
There was more. When they came to "Light My Fire", the Doors waved us
up on the stage to play with them. Our sax player, Larry Baker, and
our Flutist, Don Montre, got to do most of the playing, but it was
quite a thrill indeed.
It was several years before Kansas because a major artist in our own
right, but I will never forget that evening.
What perhaps makes it even more memorable is that I understand that
the New Orleans concert was the last performance Jim Morrison ever
did with the Doors. After that he went to France and never returned.
It was our pleasure to have shared that evening.
www.numavox.com/misc./kansasdoors.html
In the summer of 1970, Kansas (the first rendition of the band) got
an opportunity to go to New Orleans and play for a couple of weeks at
a club in the French Quarter called the "Inner Section."
The reasons I was particularly excited was that that the guys had met
quite a few musicians in New Orleans that I would probably never get
the chance to meet in Kansas. On one occassion, Jim Morrison of the
Doors (who I understand like to hang out in New Orleans), came into
the club where White Clover was playing and got up on stage
and "jammed" with them. Actually, I think the jamming consisted of
some ad lib free form poetry and sang. Being a big Doors fan, I found
this story intriguing. The Kanasas band was so dirt poor that at one
point we wrote Morrison a letter begging him for money to keep us
going. (We never heard back).
On nights when we weren't playing we'd go over to the Warehouse and
see whoever was there. I got to see "The Band," which was quite a
treat as I was a big fan of theirs also. While we were there we saw a
poster for the Doors who were coming the following week. We went nuts
and begged Fox to let us open the show for them. He always liked us,
so he set it up with Doors management and they gave us the gig. (In
those days things like that happened.)
We really thought we had our big break. Needless to say, the
anicipation and excitement were at an all time high. Just to be able
to play at the Warehouse would have been a big deal, but to open for
the Doors was premium.
We showed up early to set up for the show. Kansas was a huge band on
stage, and I remember being amazed at how Spartan the Doors equipment
was. We kept looking around wondering when they would show up.
The Warehouse had but one small dressing room. With today's prima
donna band attitudes that would be unheard of. It was a small room
above the stage with a low ceiling and big wooden beams. Kansas
barely fit in there, much less anyone else.
At last the Doors came walking in -- all except Jim Morrison. We must
have been pretty "starry-eyed." I felt like I was in the presence of
some sort of deities.
I remember having a conversation with Ray Manzarek about keyboards he
used. I asked him why he never used anything else, like a Mellotron
(I was enarmored with those things.) He told me the Doors just didn't
need anything else for their sound.
Though we were in a reverie, we kept wondering when Morrison would
show up.
At last he came in the Door, (no pun) I remember that Phil Ehart, who
had met him before said, "Guys this is Jim Morrison." I stepped
forward and shook his hand, but Dan Wright, our organist, jumped up
from the chair he was in, hit his head on one of those low wooden
beams, and was knocked out cold on the floor. Morrison just looked at
him expressionless.
I remember thinking, "Oh, boy, not only is this profoundly
embarrassing, but now Dan is out cold and we can't play without him."
Fortunately he came to, and was able to play, albeit Dan had quite a
headache.
Jim Morrison definitely had an unusual presence. There was an air of
unpredictability about him. We could hardly take our eyes off of him.
At one point, he looked up at the wooden beam, hoisted himself up,
and hung upside down from it like a bat. He then started to recite
some (ad lib, I assumed) poetry. We were transfixed. I couldn't
believe I was in the room witnessing this. Then he suddenly dropped
off the beam and landed on the floor, laying as if he were dead. The
other members of the Doors seemed not the least concerned - as if
this happened every day. Morrison got up, brushed himself off, and
acted as if nothing unusual had happened. I don't recall a single
word of the poem.
I don't think Kansas had one of our better performances that night.
Things never seem to go well when there is that much adrenaline. I
remember thinking that everything sounded out of tune and it felt as
if I had duct tape around my fingers.
After our set, I went out into the audience to watch the Doors. That
band created an atmosphere that was completely unique. There was
something very dark and mysterious about their music. I don't believe
I have seen a singer that had such command over an audience. When
they were playing "When The Music's Over," and they got to the part
of the song where Morrison sings "we what the world and we want
it..." he paused, the band went completely silent, and he unscrewed
the mic stand from it's base and held it like a spear. You could have
heard a pin drop in that place. Nobody breathed. I remember
thinking "is he going to throw it?" NOWW!!! He didn't fortnately, but
it was quite a moment.
There was more. When they came to "Light My Fire", the Doors waved us
up on the stage to play with them. Our sax player, Larry Baker, and
our Flutist, Don Montre, got to do most of the playing, but it was
quite a thrill indeed.
It was several years before Kansas because a major artist in our own
right, but I will never forget that evening.
What perhaps makes it even more memorable is that I understand that
the New Orleans concert was the last performance Jim Morrison ever
did with the Doors. After that he went to France and never returned.
It was our pleasure to have shared that evening.
www.numavox.com/misc./kansasdoors.html
