Post by darkstar3 on Feb 8, 2011 19:08:51 GMT
Los Angeles Times
In Inglewood
December 17 1968
Doors In Concert At Forum
By Donna Chick
Hell-child Jim Morrison, black leather pants riding low on his hips, was a heartbeat away from reality at the Doors concert Saturday night at the Forum in Inglewood.
Clutching the microphone between his hands with every fibre of his body, Morrison enjoyed putting on the audience. In the glory of his presence, the other three Doors melted into their instruments to become one romantic collection of musicians. For this appearance, The Doors were augmented by string and horn sections, which seemed largely superfluous.
During such numbers as “Touch Me” and “Wild Child,” Morrison was only a glimpse away from being understood. But later, coiling up like a black leather whip and lashing out at the audience in astounding bursts of energy he was much too heavy for the young crowd.
“Light My Fire,” one of the songs everyone waited for was a disappointment. The song dragged out so long that it failed to even vaguely resemble the original recording and instead sounded like a last minute improvisation.
As Morrison seemed content to wallow in the pleasure of his own talent, the audience became hostile. “I am the Lizard King, I can do anything…” he says, while his snaky body moves real slow.
The climax of his egotistical put on happened when he sat down, cross legged, in front of the musically starved crowd and asked the audience what they really wanted. “We can play music all night, if that’s what you want,’ he said, “but you don’t really want that, do you? You want something more, something different…” His mocking voice rang through the squirming crowd.
The audience got something different – the amphibian prince began to recite his own poetry. The effect would have been better in a small smokey room filled with intimate friends. But the majority of the audience who had paid to see ‘the fantastic Door’ was obviously disappointed. Applause and cheers were replaced by endless obscenities and irritable silence.
Perhaps Morrison should give up performing, which seems to be an effort for him, and concentrate on reciting and writing poetry. He doesn’t need the bulky load of screaming girls to feed his ego – it’s already over weight.
On the same program was obnoxious, cigar puffing Jerry Lee Lewis. Although he’s traded in his platinum hair for a tailored suit and an air of hillbilly tranquility, he really hasn’t changed, except that now he has to try harder. His performance was like an unrehearsed segment of the Polka Palace, featuring the pride of corn fed Memphis.
But the audience which was totally rude, didn’t even flinch when Lewis reacted to the endless booing with “I don’t care if you all get heart attacks.”
Even his rendition of his two biggies, “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” and “Great Balls Of Fire,” failed to revive him or the audience emotionally.
END.
In Inglewood
December 17 1968
Doors In Concert At Forum
By Donna Chick
Hell-child Jim Morrison, black leather pants riding low on his hips, was a heartbeat away from reality at the Doors concert Saturday night at the Forum in Inglewood.
Clutching the microphone between his hands with every fibre of his body, Morrison enjoyed putting on the audience. In the glory of his presence, the other three Doors melted into their instruments to become one romantic collection of musicians. For this appearance, The Doors were augmented by string and horn sections, which seemed largely superfluous.
During such numbers as “Touch Me” and “Wild Child,” Morrison was only a glimpse away from being understood. But later, coiling up like a black leather whip and lashing out at the audience in astounding bursts of energy he was much too heavy for the young crowd.
“Light My Fire,” one of the songs everyone waited for was a disappointment. The song dragged out so long that it failed to even vaguely resemble the original recording and instead sounded like a last minute improvisation.
As Morrison seemed content to wallow in the pleasure of his own talent, the audience became hostile. “I am the Lizard King, I can do anything…” he says, while his snaky body moves real slow.
The climax of his egotistical put on happened when he sat down, cross legged, in front of the musically starved crowd and asked the audience what they really wanted. “We can play music all night, if that’s what you want,’ he said, “but you don’t really want that, do you? You want something more, something different…” His mocking voice rang through the squirming crowd.
The audience got something different – the amphibian prince began to recite his own poetry. The effect would have been better in a small smokey room filled with intimate friends. But the majority of the audience who had paid to see ‘the fantastic Door’ was obviously disappointed. Applause and cheers were replaced by endless obscenities and irritable silence.
Perhaps Morrison should give up performing, which seems to be an effort for him, and concentrate on reciting and writing poetry. He doesn’t need the bulky load of screaming girls to feed his ego – it’s already over weight.
On the same program was obnoxious, cigar puffing Jerry Lee Lewis. Although he’s traded in his platinum hair for a tailored suit and an air of hillbilly tranquility, he really hasn’t changed, except that now he has to try harder. His performance was like an unrehearsed segment of the Polka Palace, featuring the pride of corn fed Memphis.
But the audience which was totally rude, didn’t even flinch when Lewis reacted to the endless booing with “I don’t care if you all get heart attacks.”
Even his rendition of his two biggies, “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” and “Great Balls Of Fire,” failed to revive him or the audience emotionally.
END.