Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 13:17:42 GMT
We know the guy was a total ONE OFF but just for a bit of fun WHO do you think is the closest we have seen to Jim Morrison in terms of poetic vision, artistic integrity, lifestyle, stage persona and prescence.
Not some idiot who dresses like the guy and poses about like a fart in a fit but a genuine contender for all that Jim held dear to his heart.
My contender may well surprise those who know me but I choose the 'Welsh Haridan' the lovely Cerys Matthews who started as a busker in a Cardiff street and went on to mega stardom with the wonderful Catatonia.
Fiercely proud of her heritage and commited to her music to such an end that it nearly drove her insane.
Forced to give it all away at the height of her success as her lifestyle began to overwhelm her both pyshically and mentally she rediscovered herself and went on to produce a superb solo album.
Now a happy mum in America she lived the life and survived and for me Jim would certainly have noticed Cerys if she had ever shared a bill with The Doors.
She was certainly aware of Jim and The Doors as her songwriting partner Mark Roberts once said that before he wrote a song he would take a moment to think how Jim Morrison would write the words.
I used to detest these guys until one day I sat down and listened to 'Way Beyond Blue' and it blew my mind.
She could certainly blow away posing farts like Bono and Mike Hutchence and could outdrink Shane McGowan.
Her words were always full of poetry and pathos and she could send an audience crazy with her superb stage prescence. A small club or a football stadium....she always shone on a stage and had a voice that was mesmerising in its intensity.
Also she could kick ass on stage up there with the best of 'em. For me she is the nearest we will ever get to Jim ever again.....fuck all those drug taking alchys who think that being an asshole in leather trousers spaced out of thier brain makes them fit to clean the dogshit off Morrisons cowboy boots. A mad Welsh witch in a dress pisses on the lot!
When faced with my demons
I clothe them and feed them
And I smile, yes I smile
As they're taking me over
And if I cannot sleep for the secrets I keep
It's the price I'm willing to meet
The end of the night never comes too quickly for me

So who inherited the Jim Morrison baggage best and made the best grab for his mantle after 1971?
Not some idiot who dresses like the guy and poses about like a fart in a fit but a genuine contender for all that Jim held dear to his heart.
My contender may well surprise those who know me but I choose the 'Welsh Haridan' the lovely Cerys Matthews who started as a busker in a Cardiff street and went on to mega stardom with the wonderful Catatonia.
Fiercely proud of her heritage and commited to her music to such an end that it nearly drove her insane.
Forced to give it all away at the height of her success as her lifestyle began to overwhelm her both pyshically and mentally she rediscovered herself and went on to produce a superb solo album.
Now a happy mum in America she lived the life and survived and for me Jim would certainly have noticed Cerys if she had ever shared a bill with The Doors.
She was certainly aware of Jim and The Doors as her songwriting partner Mark Roberts once said that before he wrote a song he would take a moment to think how Jim Morrison would write the words.
I used to detest these guys until one day I sat down and listened to 'Way Beyond Blue' and it blew my mind.
She could certainly blow away posing farts like Bono and Mike Hutchence and could outdrink Shane McGowan.
Her words were always full of poetry and pathos and she could send an audience crazy with her superb stage prescence. A small club or a football stadium....she always shone on a stage and had a voice that was mesmerising in its intensity.
Also she could kick ass on stage up there with the best of 'em. For me she is the nearest we will ever get to Jim ever again.....fuck all those drug taking alchys who think that being an asshole in leather trousers spaced out of thier brain makes them fit to clean the dogshit off Morrisons cowboy boots. A mad Welsh witch in a dress pisses on the lot!

When faced with my demons
I clothe them and feed them
And I smile, yes I smile
As they're taking me over
And if I cannot sleep for the secrets I keep
It's the price I'm willing to meet
The end of the night never comes too quickly for me

So who inherited the Jim Morrison baggage best and made the best grab for his mantle after 1971?