Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Apr 8, 2023 21:10:48 GMT
Crosstown Bus Club, Brighton MA August 10/11th 1967
This short lived rock club only lasted a couple of months but was The Doors first foray into Boston via one of its suburbs Brighton.
Singer Jim Morrison was like an unleashed psychopath, staggering around and sprawling on the stage, looking to be in a shamanistic frenzy (bigger eyeballs I’ve never seen) and establishing an explosive tone of hurt and anger, ending in catharsis. Pianist Ray Manzarek played his dapper opposite – a Van Cliburn character who acted straight enough to be in a classical piano competition until you looked further at his granny glasses, and realized he was an emissary from Pluto. Guitarist Robbie Kreiger, meanwhile, was a shy, poetic figure in the background. The first time I saw them was at the short lived Crosstown Bus in Brighton, a psychedelic atmosphere complete with absurd silver foil covering the walls and go-go girls in cages. An eye-opener.
Steve Morse – Boston Globe Rock Reporter.
Morrison’s descent wasn’t pretty, but anyone who saw him in his prime saw a visually unsettling psychodrama. I caught him twice — once in Providence and once at the short-lived Brighton club the Crosstown Bus, where he writhed on his back and assumed a fetal position at times, while go-go dancers boogied in cages and lights reflected off tinfoil placed on the walls. The band often just vamped behind him, as he rolled his trance like eyes, twitched and paused for occasional silences to rivet attention. It was a strange, wondrous and occasionally terrifying experience as he muttered, moaned and then exploded to life during the songs’ climaxes.
Steve Morse – Boston Globe
Rare Boston fanzine which has a report of this concert in this issue.
That report at present hasn't appeared online yet.
This short lived rock club only lasted a couple of months but was The Doors first foray into Boston via one of its suburbs Brighton.
Singer Jim Morrison was like an unleashed psychopath, staggering around and sprawling on the stage, looking to be in a shamanistic frenzy (bigger eyeballs I’ve never seen) and establishing an explosive tone of hurt and anger, ending in catharsis. Pianist Ray Manzarek played his dapper opposite – a Van Cliburn character who acted straight enough to be in a classical piano competition until you looked further at his granny glasses, and realized he was an emissary from Pluto. Guitarist Robbie Kreiger, meanwhile, was a shy, poetic figure in the background. The first time I saw them was at the short lived Crosstown Bus in Brighton, a psychedelic atmosphere complete with absurd silver foil covering the walls and go-go girls in cages. An eye-opener.
Steve Morse – Boston Globe Rock Reporter.
Morrison’s descent wasn’t pretty, but anyone who saw him in his prime saw a visually unsettling psychodrama. I caught him twice — once in Providence and once at the short-lived Brighton club the Crosstown Bus, where he writhed on his back and assumed a fetal position at times, while go-go dancers boogied in cages and lights reflected off tinfoil placed on the walls. The band often just vamped behind him, as he rolled his trance like eyes, twitched and paused for occasional silences to rivet attention. It was a strange, wondrous and occasionally terrifying experience as he muttered, moaned and then exploded to life during the songs’ climaxes.
Steve Morse – Boston Globe
Rare Boston fanzine which has a report of this concert in this issue.
That report at present hasn't appeared online yet.