Post by darkstar3 on Feb 8, 2011 18:52:05 GMT
CRAWDADDY
Issue #12
The Doors
By Sandy Pearlman
Somewhere out on Long Island there is a guy who is keeping himself busy by fashioning a Jim Morrison doll. Some think he is a sick boy, a very sick boy. But maybe there was nothing better to do? Why not? So for lack of anything better to do, he did this: he took a Marine G.I. Joe model, he threw away the camouflage clothing, which left exposed a groovy pink plastic body with an unprecedentedly large number of un-mutated limbs and organs, and then got himself some soft black leather, sewed it up (learning how as he went or maybe some random girl did it) on a machine, and planned, I think to top it off with a brownish Barbie doll wig brushed back.
R. Meltzer, too, has spoken of Morrison and leather: with Morrison, “Leather must be treated as functional – not the Warhol-Reed bit – held up in its black splendor by metal, or supporting a frail yet happy chuck wagon bell.” Clearly Morrison is the hero. As Gloria Stavers of Sixteen Magazine has said, “Morrison is magic.” Obviously. Morrison can inspire faith. He puts life into the scene. Ed Sullivan thinks, “Isn’t he handsome.” And to quote the mystic and voodoo adept of L. Silvestri, “I believe him to be a being not of this earth.” But, we shouldn’t be entirely misled. The Doors, as a group, have a lot to do with faith. Morrison is merely the prettiest one dressed in leather. But, for example, who knows what evil lurks in the heart of Manzarek?
“Back Door Man” seen live many times, and then heard – at last – dead on the grooves, is a very neat thing. With all those grunts and stuff, it’s were the inordinacy really starts. (As well as the leather.) “I am,” Morrison says, “the back door man. The men don’t know but the little girls understand.” This is the spot for categorical statement. After too many years of bluesy overuse, this song can’t even prove disconcerting through embarrassment. “I am.” And we are in the presence of definitive charisma. Mere categorical assertion slipping up and off into arrogance. “I am.” Absolutely categorical assertion has here become systematically assertive. (If you say something strangely enough it assumes an inexplicable aura of strength.) The strength of this categorical assertion is so enormous that not only does it encompass the whole world, (i.e., as a systematic construction), but it becomes unnatural. That’s when it surpasses all reason and arrives at Meltzer’s categorical magical. Starting with household fornication we’re gotten to a magical collapse of the world. This is no sly boy. This Back Door Man has absolute truth (I’am) and is also inspiring.
The Doors are spectral. Maybe more than anybody. What counts is the impression for which no significant referent detail can or should be found. The music ends and there is no detail which you can refer to to actually justify your impression. But you have that impression.
Movie music could have been a big influence. Check the surrealist organ on “Strange Days” and “Unhappy Girl” which smacks of pulp mystery (Crime detective) movie music of the era 1940-1960. I can see The Doors scoring the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” or even the fabulous “Mysterians.” But it is your Krieger who really out does himself. This nice boy, often looking perplexed on stage, who may be the first with Jimi Hendrix hair, who plays slowly with not as many notes as some, is revealed as a master of the left hand. A guitar scientist like the above Hendrix, he uses the instrument to produce explicitly technological-sounding sounds. Radically distending all sorts of notes on “Moonlight Drive.” An inordinate number some might think, without realizing that with The Doors (especially on Strange Days) inordinacy (as with Hendrix) has become stylistic.
Disorder has been rationalized by The Doors into something both comprehensive and modular. The spirit is comprehensive so as to taint anything they turn to. That’s how The Doors taint the world. But understand there are kinds of purity. And the world can be purified by tainting it. Morrison has said, “It is a search, an opening of doors. We’re trying to break through to a clearer, purer realm.” )And along these lines don’t you forget that the melody for “My Eyes Have Seen You,” starts off like the Ajax ad, “Stronger Than Dirt.” Now if things have been absolutely tainted, they have also attained a certain absolute purity. An arrangement according to a perfect order.
END.
Issue #12
The Doors
By Sandy Pearlman
Somewhere out on Long Island there is a guy who is keeping himself busy by fashioning a Jim Morrison doll. Some think he is a sick boy, a very sick boy. But maybe there was nothing better to do? Why not? So for lack of anything better to do, he did this: he took a Marine G.I. Joe model, he threw away the camouflage clothing, which left exposed a groovy pink plastic body with an unprecedentedly large number of un-mutated limbs and organs, and then got himself some soft black leather, sewed it up (learning how as he went or maybe some random girl did it) on a machine, and planned, I think to top it off with a brownish Barbie doll wig brushed back.
R. Meltzer, too, has spoken of Morrison and leather: with Morrison, “Leather must be treated as functional – not the Warhol-Reed bit – held up in its black splendor by metal, or supporting a frail yet happy chuck wagon bell.” Clearly Morrison is the hero. As Gloria Stavers of Sixteen Magazine has said, “Morrison is magic.” Obviously. Morrison can inspire faith. He puts life into the scene. Ed Sullivan thinks, “Isn’t he handsome.” And to quote the mystic and voodoo adept of L. Silvestri, “I believe him to be a being not of this earth.” But, we shouldn’t be entirely misled. The Doors, as a group, have a lot to do with faith. Morrison is merely the prettiest one dressed in leather. But, for example, who knows what evil lurks in the heart of Manzarek?
“Back Door Man” seen live many times, and then heard – at last – dead on the grooves, is a very neat thing. With all those grunts and stuff, it’s were the inordinacy really starts. (As well as the leather.) “I am,” Morrison says, “the back door man. The men don’t know but the little girls understand.” This is the spot for categorical statement. After too many years of bluesy overuse, this song can’t even prove disconcerting through embarrassment. “I am.” And we are in the presence of definitive charisma. Mere categorical assertion slipping up and off into arrogance. “I am.” Absolutely categorical assertion has here become systematically assertive. (If you say something strangely enough it assumes an inexplicable aura of strength.) The strength of this categorical assertion is so enormous that not only does it encompass the whole world, (i.e., as a systematic construction), but it becomes unnatural. That’s when it surpasses all reason and arrives at Meltzer’s categorical magical. Starting with household fornication we’re gotten to a magical collapse of the world. This is no sly boy. This Back Door Man has absolute truth (I’am) and is also inspiring.
The Doors are spectral. Maybe more than anybody. What counts is the impression for which no significant referent detail can or should be found. The music ends and there is no detail which you can refer to to actually justify your impression. But you have that impression.
Movie music could have been a big influence. Check the surrealist organ on “Strange Days” and “Unhappy Girl” which smacks of pulp mystery (Crime detective) movie music of the era 1940-1960. I can see The Doors scoring the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” or even the fabulous “Mysterians.” But it is your Krieger who really out does himself. This nice boy, often looking perplexed on stage, who may be the first with Jimi Hendrix hair, who plays slowly with not as many notes as some, is revealed as a master of the left hand. A guitar scientist like the above Hendrix, he uses the instrument to produce explicitly technological-sounding sounds. Radically distending all sorts of notes on “Moonlight Drive.” An inordinate number some might think, without realizing that with The Doors (especially on Strange Days) inordinacy (as with Hendrix) has become stylistic.
Disorder has been rationalized by The Doors into something both comprehensive and modular. The spirit is comprehensive so as to taint anything they turn to. That’s how The Doors taint the world. But understand there are kinds of purity. And the world can be purified by tainting it. Morrison has said, “It is a search, an opening of doors. We’re trying to break through to a clearer, purer realm.” )And along these lines don’t you forget that the melody for “My Eyes Have Seen You,” starts off like the Ajax ad, “Stronger Than Dirt.” Now if things have been absolutely tainted, they have also attained a certain absolute purity. An arrangement according to a perfect order.
END.