Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Jan 9, 2012 12:56:44 GMT
Can We Resolve The Past by Sue Jeffries
Being a Doors fan in the sixties was not easy.
In fact it was downright impossible. It seemed no one in England knew they existed until ‘Hello I Love You’ in 1968, so trying to buy their records or find any information at all was an uphill struggle. The first time I heard ‘Light My Fire’ was on Radio Luxembourg in early 1967 and I was instantly, completely, utterly and totally besotted with this guy’s voice. Still am. So off I trots to the local WH Smiths (the hippest record shop in town folks) with my pennies, eagerly anticipating an evening of sheer heaven lost in the velvet folds of this mans vocal chords.
Silly me! ‘Who?’….’Sorry you’ll have to order that special’. These words became very familiar to me over the forthcoming months (and years) as I vainly tried to build my Doors record collection.
After four weeks of unbearable waiting ‘The Doors’ album finally found its way onto my turntable. Oh bliss! Oh sheer joy! I could not believe this group. They were what this seventeen-year-old wishful hippie had been waiting for all her life. That face! I could not believe a person with such a heavenly voice could possess a face so beautiful, so angelic, so God-like. It wasn’t fair.
Every night I would lie in my bed in total darkness and be transported to Utopia by these strange sounds the like of which no-one had heard before…and no-one could fully understand. I wanted more! Fat chance! The music press ignored this American phenomenon. The radio (apart from the Top Gear program) ignored good American music in general and I was starved of information.
Strange days had arrived at my home by fair means or foul and I thought it was even better than the first (still do). By now I was a total wreck, completely obsessed by this group and it’s gorgeous enigmatic singer whom I was convinced was my reason for living, my reason for breathing and my whole life.
I had befriended The Doors publicist in Amsterdam and he saved my sanity by sending me the Dutch singles (lovely picture sleeves) and joy of joys ‘Waiting For The Sun’ before it was released in England, which saved me four weeks of bitten fingernails and frustrated ramblings after the initial ‘special order’ from WH Smith.
Then the IMPOSSIBLE happened.
A European Tour.!!!!!!!!
With FOUR London gigs!!!!
Of course when this news finally filtered through to the half-dead brains of the British music press pandemonium broke out to find out who exactly this anarchic American group were, what records they had released and who was this lead singer who someone said was a riot? Needless to say the band were slated without exception by a vitriolic vicious bunch of media hacks who were more interested in Jim’s leather pants and what filled them than the lyrics and music. I remember writing to ‘Disc & Music Echo’ complaining about the treatment they had received and surprise surprise they made it the lead letter (Stop Slamming The Doors would you believe). I received a nice letter from another wounded Doors fan in Newcastle and we spent a great weekend toasting Jim and drowning in Morrison mania. 1968 was a good year for us Doors fans and when I finally came face to face with my reason for living the world stopped turning. It’s useless to find words to describe those next few hours so I won’t even try. Well the English interest was predictably transient and once more I became an outcast in society (i.e. a Doors fan) and have been ever since.
My original records are virtually unplayable (thank God for CDs) and apart from the hysteria in mid 1991 which resulted from the film and the twentieth anniversary of Jim’s demise I have quietly been content to listen to my records and remain a loyal fan to my favourite group of all time. Safe in the knowledge that there are an exclusive band of us still out there somewhere still wondering where it all went wrong for Jim and why he chose the path of destruction.
I shall not dwell on the events of July 1971. who could possibly be interested in the suicidal ramblings of a person possessed after I found out my beloved Jimmy had left me.
Even then the press only dwelt on Miami and could not find it in their hearts to say something nice about him. I was distraught mainly because I could not find out what had actually happened. Even my Dutch friend was bewildered.
Jim lives on through his poetry (which incidentally I never knew existed until ‘American Prayer’ emerged). There was such a lot I never knew about Jim in the sixties and such a lot I have since learned. Thank God for the videos, bootlegs and friends with who I shared special Jim memories.
He will never be forgotten and will always remain my number one man.
Sue Jeffries from Walsall
see also From an Amsterdam Journal…….1968
Being a Doors fan in the sixties was not easy.
In fact it was downright impossible. It seemed no one in England knew they existed until ‘Hello I Love You’ in 1968, so trying to buy their records or find any information at all was an uphill struggle. The first time I heard ‘Light My Fire’ was on Radio Luxembourg in early 1967 and I was instantly, completely, utterly and totally besotted with this guy’s voice. Still am. So off I trots to the local WH Smiths (the hippest record shop in town folks) with my pennies, eagerly anticipating an evening of sheer heaven lost in the velvet folds of this mans vocal chords.
Silly me! ‘Who?’….’Sorry you’ll have to order that special’. These words became very familiar to me over the forthcoming months (and years) as I vainly tried to build my Doors record collection.
After four weeks of unbearable waiting ‘The Doors’ album finally found its way onto my turntable. Oh bliss! Oh sheer joy! I could not believe this group. They were what this seventeen-year-old wishful hippie had been waiting for all her life. That face! I could not believe a person with such a heavenly voice could possess a face so beautiful, so angelic, so God-like. It wasn’t fair.
Every night I would lie in my bed in total darkness and be transported to Utopia by these strange sounds the like of which no-one had heard before…and no-one could fully understand. I wanted more! Fat chance! The music press ignored this American phenomenon. The radio (apart from the Top Gear program) ignored good American music in general and I was starved of information.
Strange days had arrived at my home by fair means or foul and I thought it was even better than the first (still do). By now I was a total wreck, completely obsessed by this group and it’s gorgeous enigmatic singer whom I was convinced was my reason for living, my reason for breathing and my whole life.
I had befriended The Doors publicist in Amsterdam and he saved my sanity by sending me the Dutch singles (lovely picture sleeves) and joy of joys ‘Waiting For The Sun’ before it was released in England, which saved me four weeks of bitten fingernails and frustrated ramblings after the initial ‘special order’ from WH Smith.
Then the IMPOSSIBLE happened.
A European Tour.!!!!!!!!
With FOUR London gigs!!!!
Of course when this news finally filtered through to the half-dead brains of the British music press pandemonium broke out to find out who exactly this anarchic American group were, what records they had released and who was this lead singer who someone said was a riot? Needless to say the band were slated without exception by a vitriolic vicious bunch of media hacks who were more interested in Jim’s leather pants and what filled them than the lyrics and music. I remember writing to ‘Disc & Music Echo’ complaining about the treatment they had received and surprise surprise they made it the lead letter (Stop Slamming The Doors would you believe). I received a nice letter from another wounded Doors fan in Newcastle and we spent a great weekend toasting Jim and drowning in Morrison mania. 1968 was a good year for us Doors fans and when I finally came face to face with my reason for living the world stopped turning. It’s useless to find words to describe those next few hours so I won’t even try. Well the English interest was predictably transient and once more I became an outcast in society (i.e. a Doors fan) and have been ever since.
My original records are virtually unplayable (thank God for CDs) and apart from the hysteria in mid 1991 which resulted from the film and the twentieth anniversary of Jim’s demise I have quietly been content to listen to my records and remain a loyal fan to my favourite group of all time. Safe in the knowledge that there are an exclusive band of us still out there somewhere still wondering where it all went wrong for Jim and why he chose the path of destruction.
I shall not dwell on the events of July 1971. who could possibly be interested in the suicidal ramblings of a person possessed after I found out my beloved Jimmy had left me.
Even then the press only dwelt on Miami and could not find it in their hearts to say something nice about him. I was distraught mainly because I could not find out what had actually happened. Even my Dutch friend was bewildered.
Jim lives on through his poetry (which incidentally I never knew existed until ‘American Prayer’ emerged). There was such a lot I never knew about Jim in the sixties and such a lot I have since learned. Thank God for the videos, bootlegs and friends with who I shared special Jim memories.
He will never be forgotten and will always remain my number one man.
Sue Jeffries from Walsall
see also From an Amsterdam Journal…….1968