Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:39:50 GMT
"For me, it was never really an act, those so-called performances. It was a life-and-death thing; an attempt to communicate, to involve many people in a private world of thought.”
Jim Morrison 1970.
Jim is very drunk and on acid usually giving poor performances throughout the week yet the band still receives positive reviews.
"The Doors wield a rock 'n' roll beat with continuous jazz improvisation to produce an intense, highly
emotional sound. They call their music 'primitive and
personal' and find it hard to work without audience
reaction. Their numbers change constantly at live shows and new ones are written as they perform. The words build with the music into an accelerating crescendo of frenzied sound. Trying to avoid the 'hard straight sound' of many rock groups, the Doors aim for 'dramatic impact' in their music. Gazzarri's crowded dance floor proves that the Doors' lyrical freedom hasn't hurt their strong rock 'n' roll dance tempo."
Francine Grace, "Vibrant Jazz-Rock Group at Gazzarri's,"
Los Angeles Times, Feb. 28, 1967
“It’s kinda funny to play two of the best sets we’ve ever done and then read reviews knocking the show”<br>John Densmore. 1969
"The Doors in person have become the best the West has to offer. In concert at the Village Theatre several weeks ago they were frightening and beautiful beyond my ability to describe. Excellent musicianship constantly adding to the perfection of their album and leaving no note unturned in their desire to communicate. Jim Morrison stole the show brilliantly carrying the audience from anticipation to excitement to over the edge fright and joy. The Doors are now the best performers in the country and if albums are poetry then the stage show is most of all drama, brilliant theatre in any sense of the
word. Artistic expression transcending all form because
you knew Jim died for you there on stage, that it was
not mere acting but it was all for art. And Jim dies
a little more each day. Frightening and beautiful
as he strains to perfect his art.
Paul Williams. Crawdaddy Magazine, December 1967.
“We have fun, the cops have fun, the kids have fun. It’s a weird triangle.”Jim Morrison. 1969.
"Nobody ever came in the place, . . . Maybe an occasional businessman, a sailor or two on leave, a prostitute, a few drunks. They had a go-go dancer, lovely Rhonda Lane, dancing in a cage to our songs which was ridiculous . . . it was a very depressing experience, but it gave us time to really get the music together"
Ray Manzarek on the London Fog gigs
"The Doors weren't very good then. . . The other bands didn't think a whole lot of them. Jimmy's antics were considered extreme even then. Nobody quite understood what he was up to or why he had
to be so brazen at times. I know that he hated to
sing. He didn't think he was any good and didn't like
performing. There was always a part of him that was
self-critical and questioning. As though he felt he was being a sham. It wasn't so much that he would rather do something else. It was as if he was very unhappy inside. It made him so nervous he had to get totally looped . . . I used to wonder what was holding him up."
Mirandi Babitz witnessed the London Fog performances
"I knew Jim had star quality the minute I saw him,.
. . I had a hard time getting hold of him, though,
because in those days he was living on the beach and no one knew quite where (he was sleeping under the
boardwalk in Venice). He didn't have a pot to piss in. I
had to dress him, get him some T-shirts and turtle
necks at the Army-Navy store, the leathers didn't come
until several months later."
Ronnie Haran, on the Doors early Whisky appearances
"He was kinda ahead of his time on certain things, like swearing, . .. But those calls kept coming in. 'When's that horny motherfucker comin' in' The phones were
incredible. We never got that many calls before for just a second group."
Elmer Valentine, Whisky a Go-Go Owner
"First New York opening in a while. The Doors - Fresh
from Los Angeles with an underground album of the hour- return. This time, they are worshipped, envied,
bandied about like the Real Thing. The word is out or
'in' - 'The Doors will floor you'. So not all the
pretty people in New York were present at opening night, but enough to keep a few publicity agencies busy. The four musicians mounted their instruments. The organist lit a stick of incense. Vocalist and writer Jim
Morrison closed his eyes to all that Arnel elegance, and
the Doors opened up. Morrison twitched and pouted and a cluster of girls gathered to watch every nuance
in his lips. Humiliating your audience is an old
game in rock 'n' roll, but Morrison pitches spastic
love with an insolence you can't ignore. His material
- almost all original - is literate, concise, and
terrifying. The Doors have the habit of improvising, so a
song about being strange which I heard for the first
time at Ondine may be a completely different
composition by now. Whatever the words, you will discern a deep streak of violent - sometimes Oedipal -
sexuality. And since sex is what hard rock is all about, the Doors are a stunning success. You should brave all the go-go gymnastics, bring a select circle of friends for
buffer, and make it up to Ondine to find out what the
literature of pop is all about. The Doors are mean; and
their skin is green."
Ondines New York March –April 1967.
Richard Goldstein, "Pop Eye," Village Voice, March 1967
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:40:12 GMT
"Morrison wasn't on stage when the music began. Suddenly there was a confrontation on one of the downhill aisles leading to the stage. He stumbled down the steps, entangling his black leather and a mass of tangled hair with the offstage darkness. He stopped to pose, and a flash of light caught him trying to regain his balance. The taunts began immediately. He responded with force indifference or a threat of random violence. The other Doors were in other rooms. They played on, almost oblivious to his ranting and raving. A familiar riff would begin, the audience would briefly come to attention, and he would leave the spotlight to inflict his boredom on them. He would fall into shadows searching for worthy opponents. There were glimpses of physical confrontations: crew cutted jocks protecting their interested girlfriends from his suggestions. Morrison's fist shooting blindly in the direction
of obscene threats as a fat security guard grabs at
him with a pathetic attempt to control the situation.
Morrison embraces the guard and tries to pull him towards the stage while delivering a passionate plea for
weight loss. The guard frees himself, runs up the aisle
to derisive laughter, dropping his hat. Morrison
tries to wear the hat but it is too small and suddenly
he is disgusted with the whole scene and lets out a
frenzied scream. Silence in the theatre for the moment.
The audience stared as though it was a horrible car
crash where the spirit was maimed and the blood ran
into the gutter of the soul. Morrison twitched in some
kind of death throes. The concert ended abruptly.
Morrison howled but it was not with ecstasy. It was more Ginsberg than Blake. The lights came up before the band could walk back up the aisles and the audience booed. Morrison stood still listening. I stared so that my eyes would forever cover him. Some people were leaving, others still booing, a few watched him as intensely as I did. Then in this haphazard atmosphere he threw back his head and began to chant and dance in place like some possessed American Indian brave consecrating a sacred land, cleaning the abuse and disdain with singular belief so powerful that shivers ran through me. And my heart froze with undeniable blessing. A girl ran at him with scissors flashing to cut his hair and he disappeared into a circle of anonymous flesh carried him away."
David Dalton. author of ‘The LastHoly Fool’
witnessing the power of The Doorswww.jimlizardking.de/yy3.gif
"It always bothered me to have the police hanging around the shows waiting to bust us on any word or thing we did. But we expected it, it was all part of the trip."
Robby Krieger. 1978.
"I just try to give the
kids a good time."
Jim Morrison 1969.
A concert by The Doors scheduled for June 28 in Plaza
Monumental bullring here was cancelled at the last moment when it was recalled that the date also marked the first anniversary of the 1968 student revolt in this
city. It was feared that the crowds of youths who would
turn out for the rock event might serve as a catalyst
for some elements to touch off a demonstration
commemorating the anniversary.
Variety Magazine July 9 1969.
On The forthcoming gig at Mexico City's Forum Cafe
"I'd rather play for 20 million acid heads than a
convention of beer drinkers."
Ray Manzarek. 1971.
"The audience was one of the best we've ever had. Everyone seemed to take it so easy. It's probably the most informed, receptive audience I've ever seen in my life."
Jim Morrison on the Roundhouse London gigs
The house lights dimmed, The Doors were announced, and a peculiar tension built in the air; an excitement pulsed and moved from the shadowed corners, lacing the room with an emotional current. "Hello," said Jim. And they began to play. He was a reviled figure: hated by the press; never taken seriously by critics who felt themselves lost amid his cinematic imagery. He had dressed himself in funereal leather, dropped his pants, shouted obscenities, and was guilty only of believing a myth he had created. And after all, that's something almost all rock stars are guilty of.
Eric Van Lustbader,Madison Square Garden's Felt Forum. CircusMagazine,September 1971
"A hushed 'Here they come' ran through the crowd and necks craned expectantly towards the small gate outside the right field foul line.
The three Doors' musicians...mounted the stage
looking all business. They positioned themselves with
their instruments and immediately started playing.
After a short musical introduction, singer-warlock Jim
Morrison, wearing skin-tight leather pants, a pea coat and a sullen expression, leaped up the side stairs,
faked a spastic stumble crossing the stage, and lurched
into the lyrics in a slightly hoarse voice. it is undeniably compelling. The creative nature of the Doors'
musicianship became more apparent with every song. Their versatility with the instruments and their unique rapport in the tight arrangements provided a perfect backdrop for Morrison's jolting images...the whole situation began to take on an atmosphere of unreality." Greg Robertson,Hi-Corbett Field Baseball Stadium -
Randolph Park, Tucson,1968
Tucson Daily Citizen,June 29,1968
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:40:35 GMT
"At times during the brilliant improvisational sections to numbers, Morrison was like a conductor/dictator gone berserk. He would thrash about attempting to zap the potent energy so abundant within him to each individual member of the group. He screamed at them, urging them onto more volume, more notes, more intricacies, more, MORE, MORE.
He thundered back to his life-line microphone in
time to reinstate pure human horror in the black air
of the auditorium."
Jan Vogels, Cal State Gymnasium,Los Angeles,CA,Oct.6th 1967 "Horror...the 20th Century...the drugs...horror...the Doors,"
UCLA Daily Bruin, Oct. 12, 1967
“A concert promoter laughed as he told the story of Morrison madly swinging the microphone at an audience at the Scene in New York. 'Tiny Tim is scared stiff. Morrison just missed his head.' Asher Dann, former Doors manager, tried to stop Morrison, resulting in a bloody fist fight on stage."
Hank Zavellos, "The Doors,"
Happening Magazine, Summer 1967
"At first, everything is serene- blue and green. The lights are low and the stage is empty. Slowly, the boys come out and in the darkness they start to "set up". You can hardly distinguish which is which. After a minimum amount of tuning up, the house lights suddenly go on. Just as they do, there is a fabulous blast of sound. It's the Doors- and they are on and it's unmistakably their music that you hear. Then, seemingly from nowhere, a figure leaps onto the stage. It's him- Jim Morrison! And you feel something you have never felt before. It's like an electric shock that goes all through you. Jim is singing and you realize that it's a combination of him, the way he looks and moves, and his sound that has completely turned you on. His voice is like spirals of flame, and beautiful red and yellow colours seem to fly out of his fingertips.
’Come on, baby, light my fire’....He is singing it to you and all at once the room around you seems to glow. At first it's warm, then it's hot- like something burning, but it doesn't hurt. You dig it. It's the fire- the fire that Jim is singing about. The fire that he knows all about and now- suddenly- you do too! You are consumed by his vibrant presence and his sensational singing. He is electric. He is magic. He is all afire. And everything that he is, he is giving to you freely and totally!
Gloria Stavers 16 Magazine
November 6, 1967
"There are no rules at a rock concert. Anything is
Jim Morrison 1969.
"City streets are not the only place where there is unrest and mobs get out of hand. On Friday night at the Singer Bowl, which is located on the grounds of the old New York World's Fair, a melee broke out involving several young patrons of a concert headlining The Doors, and The Who, both top rock combos.
The youngsters charged the stage area and threw
chairs on stage, damaging some of The Doors' equipment. The Doors were just wrapping up their slot shortly past midnight. Three persons were hurt; one of them was arrested. The kids were restless due to the
concert's late start, a long intermission, and the addition
of a third act, The Kangaroo. Perhaps topping off
these events were The Doors' lyrics, many of which
refer to death, power, violence, and comment on
society's bizarre aspects, and the wild theatrics of the
group's lead singer and new contemporaneous sex symbol, Jim Morrison.
Adding to the climatic moment, was that, per plan, The Who had performed with the house lights on, but these were turned off for The Doors. And the tension was further spurred by breakdown of the revolving stage which, when operative, made it possible for
the act to be seen from all angles. The Doors
have been gaining a reputation for exciting audiences
beyond the norm. They have had several such incidents;
the most recent of which was a larger-scaled riot the
previous weekend in Cleveland. Rushing the performers is, of course, not new to pop music in general, let
alone r & r specifically. But it seems to be only of
late that destructiveness has become a key
Singer Bowl August 2nd 1968.
Variety Magazine August 7 1968
"We're MUCH better in person. Our record album is
only a map of our work. I'd like to play in a club
where we could be with the people. Maybe we wouldn't
even play. It would be great to sit down and talk with
the audience, get rid of all the separate tables and
have one big table." Ray (also backstage): "Yes,
people become familiar with us through the album, but
it's when they see us that it all happens. Our music
short-circuits the conscious mind and allows the subconscious to flow free."
Jim Morrison Prior to gigs at Steve Pauls Scene
Club New York 1967
"Drama the kind that grabs your lapels and shoves you against a wall, is being reborn in a thousand clubs, discotheques and halls across America. It doesn't use sets, lighting and actors in the usual sense. It does use the rawhide-thong vocal chords of people like Jim Morrison, lead singer for the Doors. Morrison floats to the microphone, hangs limply on it, looking aside and down. Then his butterfly hand raises the microphone up, his body goes taught, his eyes look wildly in a personal darkness, and he forces his wild voice into the mike. It emerges from the amplifiers turning the room blue with hot, electric thunder. Then quietly, one hand cupped over his right ear, he begins to sing. It's theatre."
San Francisco Chronicle September 28,1967
"I always try to get them to stand up, to feel free
to move around anywhere they want to. I like people
to feel free not chained."
Jim Morrison 1969.
"That was the last taped performance of the Doors, I believe, and certainly the last filmed performance. The movie of that festival was recently re-released, I think, and anyone who's seen it knows that our performance was kind of a mess. Not just our performance, really, but the whole thing, which was really captured in the movie: people breaking down the walls and running in, everyone arguing about money, and just lots of bad vibes. Now, that was the death of rock and roll. [laughs] It really pretty much was the end of everything, the source of all bad things about the whole scene, all rolled into one show. Jim was just in terrible shape. He had just come from court in Miami and had lost another legal battle, and he had to go back right afterwards. In fact, three weeks later, he was convicted. We were supposed to go on tour right after the festival but couldn't do it because he had to go back to Miami. All of that was taking its toll, and he was just fucking zonked. He just stood there and sang, didn't move a muscle or do anything. Actually, though, all things considered, it's surprising how good he sounds."
Robby Krieger on The Isle Of Wight Festival August 1970 speaking to Guitar World 1997
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:41:50 GMT
"The Doors latest album, Waiting For The Sun, wasn't half what it
would have been if the original plan included Jim
Morrison's "Celebration Of The Lizard" had succeeded.
With this in mind, I looked forward eagerly to The Doors' concert.
Even as influenced as it was by too much Hamm's beer (throughout the
concert, The Doors, particularly lead singer Morrison, kept swigging
from sixteen-ounce cans), it was something else.
People who came to hear cuts from their albums flawlessly dupilcated
must have been disappointed, for Morrison seemed quite bored by all
the old Doors' material, which with the beer and the standard
performers' response to playing sleepy old Minneapolis added up to
ineffectively delivered numbers laden with ad libs and vulgarities.
The appearance of local blues harpist Tony Glover and a change to
blues material brought Morrison around. Ray Manzarek, organist for
The Doors, seemed to respond well.
Backed by Densmore's beat, Morrison managed to do some of the singing
that he has become known for. The standard closing "Light My Fire"
was a return to Morrison's lethargy in spite of a dynamic effort by
the rest of the group.
The concert was a success only by grace of Morrison's inital effect
as a superstar and a very good poet and by the hard work of the rest
of the band. Morrison broke off in nearly every song after the first
couple of stanzas, leaving it up to the others to improvise until he
was ready to sing again. This may be one reason why the rest of the
group is so good.
Watching Morrison himself was a great part of the show, and he could
hold your attention sitting down, but in the rows farther back people
were more dependent on their ears than their eyes and it must have
really dragged at times.
Yet a concert by The Doors is supposed to be something out of the
ordinary. People come to see The Doors as much for their
unpredictability as for their music. The Doors come to affect you and
create a response, and the one they created depends on you and on
what they want to do.
Morrison instrumented the effect this time. He didn't give the
audience what they expected. He gave then what they wanted. He gave
them The Doors. "
Minneapolis Daily Newspaper, "Doors Ham It Up In Concert" by: Tim Boxell November 1968.
JIM MORRISON AND THE DOORS -
The Doors appeared at the Inglewood Forum on December 14, 1968 performing songs from the Soft Parade album complete with a string sextet and brass ensemble. Sweetwater opened the show followed by Jerry Lee Lewis who was treated crudely by the impatient crowd who eagerly awaited the Doors.
Part way through the
Doors performance the audience starts screaming for
Light My Fire. "The incessant clamoring for Light My
Fire makes the audience seem harshly unsympathetic to
anything else the band wants to introduce. The attitude of these ever-increasing "top 40" fanatics who demand
nothing but the hits will contribute significantly to the
band's disgust with the way rock 'n' roll is - or isn't
- developing. The Doors observe a change in the
audience as their music became more popular. Their
apprehensions will peak within a few months when they record the spontaneous "Rock Is Dead" session and Jim Morrison accosts the audience in Miami." After
giving the audience what they want by playing LMF Jim
sits down on the stage and asks the audience directly
what they really want. Jim suggests that they could
play music all night long but thats not what they
really came here for, "you want something different,
something more." At this point the band breaks into
Celebration of the Lizard. "As tonight's rendition of
Celebration of the Lizard draws to a conclusion, each of the band members leaves the stage individually. First John Densmore, then Robby Krieger, then Ray Manzarek with Morrison all alone onstage as he quietly recites the final poetic verses of the compostion and then solemnly walks off the stage. The effect is transcendent as opposed
to the usual thunderous applause exhibited at the
end of the show, the somewhat stunned audience of
over 18,000 send out a brief ripple of quiet
acknowledgement, and then stare mutely before leaving the venue in
Michael Lydon of the New York Times ,
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:42:15 GMT
"The Doors are now the best performers in the country, and if their albums are poetry as well as music, then the stage show is most of all drama, brilliant theater in any sense of the word. Artistic
expression transcending all form, because you know as Jim died there for you on stage that that wasn't mere acting, but it was all for
art. Christ, they say, became the perfect criminal, negating all crimes in his own most heinous one. Absolving the world by absorbing
all sins. And Jim dies a little more each day, pulling toward him all the violence around him, frightening and beautiful as he strains
to perfect his art. And every day more of a pop star, pied piper of mice and the flower kids, and when the music's over....."
Paul Williams Crawdaddy Magazine 1967
Apparently death is a popular topic among hippies, yippies, or whatever disenchanted youths call themselves this year. This is a conclusion that can be reached from the sellout performances of The Doors last weekend at Fillmore East, Bill Graham's new rock 'n' roll hq in New York. A total of 10,000 buffs showed up for four performances spread over Friday and Saturday nights at the 2,500-seat site, which was scaled to a $5 top. The Doors, Elektra Records' hot quartet from Los Angeles, imply that the death of the world is imminent, and they want to record a lot in the annals of history before they go. They essay some highly inventive musical and ideological concepts with a bizarre treatment that seems
somehow permanent and constructively artful in its
pessimism. Led by a wayout vocalist , Jim Morrison,
whose animalism has prompted some observers to dub him some sort of sex symbol, they wrap up one of the
philosophies of their generation in an opus entitled "When the Music's Over," which says that music is the vibrant force of communication and fraternity.
Variety Magazine 1968
There was Jim Morrison, more the rabbinical student than the Sex God and looking more comfortable in the new guise. Seeming less selfconscious, but singing, if
anything, better than even his greatest fans thought he
could sing, and projecting truer sex than he ever did
when he writhed calculatedly, because the sex was
warmer, more secure. Not that he wasn't capable of the
old theatrical excitement as he proved in one
electrifying moment when he disappeared from the stage for a few minutes, then showed up suddenly in a blue flame (all right, so it was only a blue light shining on him!) above the audience's head, growling out "The
Celebration Of The Lizard." For me it was the personal
pleasure of seeing what Morrison could really do, since
the only other live appearance of The Doors that I
had seen was the Hollywood Bowl concert, which was a
drag. It was the excitement of seeing them live up to
an image that had become all but distorted, for
surely the bum-rapping The Doors have received in the
past year was as out of proportion to the reality of
their talent as perhaps the early praise was. That,
indeed, may be the real tragedy of their public image,
the fact that they were praised too much too soon and
were forced almost immediately, before getting a
chance to move on in their own direction, to become a
commercial commodity, to have to live up to an already
overblown success image.
Harvey Perr after the Aquarius Theatre gigs
The Los Angeles Free Press August 8,1969
Though the concert wouldn't start for another hour, the line outside the Aquarius Theater stretched far down Sunset Boulevard. Tickets for both shows (which were being recorded for an album) had been sold out for weeks. The Doors are a hot item. Ever since their first album, The Doors, particularly Morrison, have been involved in controversy. Tight black leather pants became Morrison's trademark. His almost panting vocals were often punctuated with sudden body movements that excited the teenage girls and outraged others. The themes of The Doors' songs often dealt with such subjects as death, violence, fear or, above all, sex.
All this emotion and theatrics reached a peak last spring when Morrison was accused of indecent exposure during a Miami concert. The Miami affair has continued to follow Morrison. When the group played Chicago recently, one writer started his
review: "Jim Morrison didn't 'do it.'" Well, as you
may have heard by now, Morrison didn't do it last
week at the Aquarius either. He looked anything but a
sex symbol as he sat almost motionless on a stool at
centre stage. Puffing slowly on a cigar while the sound
system was being tested, Morrison stroked his new, full
beard and stared through tinted glasses into the
auditorium darkness. He was wearing loose carpenter-like pants and a white sport shirt. He seemed only
remotely interested as the theater doors opened at a
little past 7:30 P.M. and the stream of fans moved
inside. Two girls, who were in the first wave, were
walking by the front of the stage when they realized the
bearded guy was Morrison. They finally com- posed
themselves long enough to take a picture. A
seventeen-year-old, who sat next to me clutching a $2 ticket that she bought from a scalper for $5, seemed puzzled by Morrison's new beard. "It ruins his looks," she said at first. A few moments later, she added "Before he looked like a devil. Now he looks holy. It's all right. He's so exciting."
At 8:15, the concert began,
Morrison cupped his hands around the microphone, closed his eyes, moved his mouth next to his hands, and
began singing "Back Door Man," a gutty song from his
first album. The other Doors- Robbie Krieger (who
writes many of the group's songs) on guitar, Ray
Manzarek on organ, and Johm Densmore on drums- play simple but solid rock support.
Morrison's range as a vocalist is limited, but he has a sensual intensity and deliberate phrasing that make his delivery powerful. The reaction was overwhelming at the first show. The audience seemed to sense Morrison was trying something different and it was with him.
By ridding himself of all the old symbols, Morrison was trying to demonstrate that he is more than a black leather freak, more than a rock sex symbol, more than a Miami incident. Perhaps more mature and more serious, Morrison is concerned
with a higher ambition. He wants to be recognized as
an artist. Without doubt, he was an artist last
Monday. If he continues in his new bag, Morrison may
prove that, far from being as bad as much of his past
publicity would have one believe, he is as good as his many fans have long felt that he is. He took a giant stride in that direction at the Aquarius.
Robert Hilburn Los Angeles Times July 28, 1969
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:42:57 GMT
"It is officially reported that over a half a million people have come to the Isle Of Wight for this festival. One of the reason ... one of the reasons, ladies and gentlemen is on the stage now. Please welcome, The Doors ! " ; M.C. Rikki Farr.
"The Doors were abysmal. Since watching them drag their weary way through that embarrassing set, people I’ve rapped to often tell me what I missed and how good Manzarek was and how well they did Light my Fire and how foxy Morrison looked. It must be fucking hard work for people who dug the band in the past to keep those pretty illusions floating around. They were bored and apathetic, to them it was just another gig to keep their charisma going; but this time they blew it." (Coleman, John.
"IOW 70: The Music". Friends, October 2, 1970.
"For nearly everyone it was the very first time that they had ever seen the legendary Jim Morrison. Whether he lived up to their expectations we’ll never know, nevertheless both he and the Doors were given a resounding welcome. Having seen the Doors on a number of occasions, I can report that this was a good, if somewhat subdued, performance which consisted mainly of songs from their three-year old first album. A bearded Morrison was just content to stand quite still and deliver his rather sombre songs, while organist Ray Manzarek, guitarist Robbie Krieger and drummer John Densmore provide an equally sinister backing. The Doors music is a very acquired taste, but it seems that it is liked by many."
"Yes, There Was Music Too !".
Roy Carr New Musical Express, September 5, 1970.
"At five minutes past midnight, The Doors shambled onstage. Despite all the reports to the contrary, I found them magnificent, with Morrison’s voice coming over clear and passionate.
“The Doors sneaked out on stage and everybody in the world stood up. Everybody else behind them threw beer cans at them until they sat down.
A bearded Morrison was content to stand quite still and deliver his somewhat sombre songs while organist Ray Manzarek, guitarist Robbie Krieger and drummer John Densmore provide a sinister backing.
It was something like listening to a Doors album through a bad record player that runs slow. Apparently they’d had a lot of backstage hassles. The equipment wasn’t right and by the time they got on they were in a bad mood, which showed through to the audience. They just played Doors numbers, no attempt at communicating, no response to the inevitable applause. They got an inevitable encore, but declined to take advantage of it, they just moodied their way off the stage.”<br>The bootleg recording of their set shows how good they were with tight versions of ‘Back Door Man’, ‘When The Music’s Over’ and ‘Light My Fire’-bellowed like a great bull- as well as the mysterious, unreleased ‘Ship Of Fools’ and ‘The End’, which was ominous to the point of nightmare.
“Backstage, Morrison was at the bar, bewhiskered and looking like a lumberjack, preoccupied with his Miami court case, on the charge of indecent exposure. A bra-less wench, starstruck by the superstar blurted out ‘You mean if you did it in New York you’d just get a fast fine and that’s all?’.
“I didn’t do it anywhere” replied Morrison with distaste.
Within a year Morrison was dead –or, some people claim, not.
His grave in Paris an object of twisted veneration."
Taken from “Nights in Wight Satin” an illustrated history of the
Isle of Wight Pop Festivals by Brian Hinton.
Published by The Isle Of Wight County Council. 1990.
“He used to stop and listen to what the audience had to
say. We didn’t know what the hell was going on”<br>Robby Krieger 1972.
“I first saw Morrison when I was 12 years old in concert and he was the most powerful, dangerous, unpredictable man I had ever seen.
The lights were out, three musicians walked on stage there was incense on the organ and the spotlight hit him midway thru the air as he hit the mike screaming the intro to 'When The Musics Over' and boy did that wake me up!"
BBC Radio 2 "Dark Star" documentary 7th July 2001
"During the concert during the ‘Wake Up’ plea, Morrison
exploded into a fury of movement climaxing in his
collapsing on the stage as dozens of arms from the audience reached out in an attempt to make contact with the man already becoming a myth. Union regulations demanded the show end at midnight but Morrison pushed the envelope again. “Don’t let them push us out” he declares and the show goes on an hour overtime.Detroit Cobo Arena bars The Doors from entering their doors again." Danny Sugerman. 2000
Milwaukee Arena November. 1st 1968
The Doors, to the uninitiated, are no wooden set of guitar pickers and brassy vocalists. They are possibly the leading exponents of acid rock - acid in terms of drug oriented, perhaps; acid in terms of social commentary, certainly. They plug into Morrison as 1,300 watts of amplified sound blast into their minds, a sound so loud it drives thought
out, a sound so loud it pins the value judgements of
the adult world to the far wall of the arena and
leaves them squirming helplessly. From 'Light My Fire'
to 'The End'...the sinister lyrics socked their
satanically sensual message to the crowd.
Pierre-Rene Noth,Milwaukee Journal,November 2 1968
The Doors were received enthusiastically by Mexican
youth, but not by the city officials or the Mexican
press. The Doors were brought down to open up Mexico for future presentations by other top rock groups, according to Mexican promoter Mario Olmos. It had beenm reported before their arrival that they had been granted permission by president Gustava Kiaz Ordaz to perform in Mexico City's Plaza Monumental bullring where the poorer
classes of people would be able to afford the price of
admission. But it didn't work out that way. Instead, The
Doors found themselves confined to perform during their
four-night stay at the Forum Club and at a select crowd that could afford the 200 pesos ($16) cover charge. Attempts were made to get permits for the group to perform at the Mexican arena, the National Auditorium, and even in a security-tight closed performance for the
students of Mexico's National University, but permission
was not granted. Mayor Corona Del Rosal was afraid
that a large public appearance by The Doors would
spark some kind of riot or demonstration by students
who have been in a state of agitation during the past
year. Plans that had been announced to benefit shows,
videotape concerts, and a photo art display did not
materialize either. The Mexican press was not too kind to The Doors either. El Heraldo was quoted as calling the group "hippies" and referring to them as undesirables.
The group was also denied accommodations in several
of the large hotels and ended up staying in a
smaller private hotel in one of the residential sections.
There was no doubt that The Doors were a sensation at
the Forum, where they played to record-breaking
audiences nightly. With a selection of recorded songs, some that have not been released, and improvisations, they literally rocked the rafters loose. Jim Morrison, singing from the gut, completely losing himself as he does when he performs, had the audience totally absorbed, alternately screaming, chanting, and completely silent.
Pat Alisau Variety magazine July 8th
"The intensity begins the moment they stalk on stage and it doesn't let up until the purge is over, the catharsis is complete. Even between numbers, there is no relaxation - no chit-chat, no horsing around. Like the great actors of Japan, The Doors project all the nore intensity when they are silent. The Doors are carnivores in a land of musical vegetarians. "
Eagles Auditorium - Seattle, WA July 1967
Tom Robbins, Helix, Member of the Underground Press Syndicate, July
"Soon The Doors are making
music, Morrison slouches over the rigid microphone and
the Hullabaloo's turntable stage slowly begins to
spin them towards a wildly screaming audience as the
curtains pull back. A wild strobe of Instamatic flash
bulbs silhouettes frantically waving hands in a
lightning sky. Girls press forward against the stage.
Morrison grunts, begins squirming, singing, and there's
another barrage of flash bulbs and press towards the
stage. The music weaves and screams into one climax
after another. Morrison is literally raping the
microphone between his quivering thighs, advancing toward the hungry girls pressing against the stage. And then he trips on the microphone and falls. It happens
along with a musical peak and the girls scream,
thinking this is the way it should be. Morrison picks
himself off the floor. He shouts the lyrics. Picks up the
microphone stand and throws it hard. The girls can't believe it. Few are frightened, most of them have eyes that mirror an erotic spell. And Morrison jumps hard among the fallen stand. Picks it up again and throws it
hard once more. Shouting the lyrics. Screaming. You
look at the girls and you swear they're having orgasm.
Morrison destroys the mike and the stand."
The Hullabaloo, Hollywood June 8th 1967.
Hank Zavellos, "The Doors," Happening Magazine,
"With the Beatles & The Stones it was girls going crazy. But with The Doors there were actually young guys going nuts with high energy releases and destroying stuff."
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:43:46 GMT
Lights down; "Please bear with us while we make a five minute sound check." With the dimming of the lights came the forward surge ("He’s there, I see him!" from a girl in fringe, a frantic whisper.) ("He’s so bitchin" agreed her friend in wool shawl.)’‘Lights up, Morrison, center stage, unleashed a horse scream and followed with a new song, "Road House Blues", a loping song, almost good-timey. He stood there and sang it, no leaping or prancing. His left hand over his left ear, right hand grasping the microphone - the Morrison stance. No leather, no beard, medium hair.’ .
"Long Beach Open Doors Concert".
Judith Sims, Los Angeles Times, February 27, 1970.
"Recently their live concerts and particularly the Boston concert have been tired and worn out. They are sick of their own theatrical bits. They are aiming at a kind of ritual rock theatre but don’t seem to know how to do it. Perhaps there is too much to contend with. The second concert was considerably more engaging."
"My name is the Holy Shay
and I come to town this day
to tell my story to the judge
Judge, judge, judge, judge,
The man is not wanted here
Come to our house say the mandarino
Tell us why has he strayed so near
Why you run away and come back slow
In the middle of the sun
In the middle of the day
When even an idiot goes indoors
Meeting you at your parents' gate
We'll tell you what you have to do to survive"
Boston, Massachusetts - March 17, 1968.
Carl Nagin of Boston’s underground paper, the Avatar.www.jimlizardking.de/261104_13.gif
"July 9, Jim Morrison and The Doors made their first appearance in Dallas. The show was enough to convince this reviewer that no other pop group can come near them.
I say "Jim Morrison and The Doors" because Morrison’s personality totally dominated the performance as it may soon dominate the new rock scene. His dynamic fluctuations from hot to cold, his gyrations, kept his audience flowing with him, and the enthusiastic applause was a testimony to his staying power. Although Morrison dominated the show, it is not fair to say that the other members were not great also. They were, especially drummer John Densmore. And Ray Manzarek’s organ, closer to jazz than rock, gave out some of the most original sounds ever heard in Dallas. Robby Krieger’s guitar also came through in marvellous fashion."
Dallas Memorial Auditorium Dallas, Texas - July 9, 1968
John Marken, music writer for local underground newspaper, Dallas Notes.
July 16 - 23 - Whisky a Go Go West Hollywood, CA
Bo Diddley, Turtles: Both ends of the rock spectrum in town,"
"Sharing the bill are The Doors, a hungry looking quartet with an interesting original sound but with what is possibly the worst stage appearance of any rock 'n' roll group in captivity. Their lead singer emotes with his eyes closed, the electric pianist hunches over his instrument as if reading mysteries from the keyboard, the guitarist drifts about the stage randomly and the drummer seems lost in a seperate world."
Pete Johnson, Los Angeles Times, July 18, 1966
February 26 - Gazzarri's Hollywood, CA
Vibrant Jazz-Rock Group at Gazzarri's,"
"The Doors wield a rock 'n' roll beat with continuous jazz improvisation to produce an intense, highly emotional sound. They call their music 'primitive and personal' and find it hard to work without audience reaction. Their numbers change constantly at live shows and new ones are written as they perform. The words build with the music into an accelerating crescendo of frenzied sound. Trying to avoid the 'hard straight sound' of many rock groups, the Doors aim for 'dramatic impact' in their music. Gazzarri's crowded dance floor proves that the Doors' lyrical freedom hasn't hurt their strong rock 'n' roll dance tempo."
Francine Grace, Los Angeles Times, Feb. 28, 1967
June 8 - The Hullabaloo Hollywood, CA
"At the Hullabaloo, an excited, superpacked crowd waited restlessly for the Doors. This show, their last before going east, had been put together at the last minute and had hardly been advertised. Manzarek himself hadn't known about it, and that's why there was the tensed delay as people tried to locate him.
Outside, however, enough people to fill the house another two times waited in a long, thick, impatient line.
Morrison, however, appeared little concerned. He had gotten together with a freaky girl in dark, bizarre clothing, and was now lurking about with her backstage.
Finally, the revolving stage turned toward the screaming audience with The Doors on it, already beginning to play their music. Morrison slouched at the microphone. Instamatic flashcubes strobing and silhouetting him. And when the stage stopped moving, and The Doors faced the audience full on, and Morrison began singing, girls began screaming louder and rushed, pushing and pressing toward the stage. Guys whistled. Flashcubes strobing from all over. Morrison singing and screaming with the music, soon raping the microphone stand between his legs.
Then, by honest accident, Morrison tripped because of the mike and fell hard on the stage. But it happened with a musical climax, and it looked like this was how it was supposed to have happened. Girls screamed; rushed, pressing harder against the stage. Camera flashlights continued to strobe the intense scene wildly. Morrison got up, angry, picked up the mike stand, and began wildly swinging and throwing it about, hard. Destroying it. The girls right up front were in very real danger of being accidentally but seriously hurt. And their faces showed the terror. But something else also showed. It looked as if they were having a frenzied orgasm. Going insane with unbelievably wicked delight.
Hank Zavellos, Happening Magazine #5, 1968
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:44:21 GMT
July 23 - The Doors at Eagles Auditorium Seattle, WA
"The intensity begins the moment they stalk on stage and it doesn't let up until the purge is over, the catharsis is complete. Even between numbers, there is no relaxation - no chit-chat, no horsing around. Like the great actors of Japan, The Doors project all the nore intensity when they are silent. The Doors are carnivores in a land of musical vegetarians".
Tom Robbins, Helix, Member of the Underground Press Syndicate, July 1967
October 6 - California State Gymnasium Los Angeles, CA
Horror...the 20th Century...the drugs...horror...the Doors,"
"At times during the brilliant improvisational sections to numbers, Morrison was like a conductor/dictator gone berserk. He would thrash about attempting to zap the potent energy so abundant within him to each individual member of the group. He screamed at them, urging them onto more volume, more notes, more intricacies, more, MORE, MORE. He thundered back to his life-line microphone in time to reinstate pure human horror in the black air of the auditorium.
Jan Vogels, UCLA Daily Bruin, Oct. 12, 1967
April 19 - Westbury Music Fair Westbury, NY
Mr. Mojo Risin
"Morrison wasn't on stage when the music began. Suddenly there was a confrontation on one of the downhill aisles leading to the stage. He stumbled down the steps, entangling his black leather and a mass of tangled hair with the offstage darkness. He stopped to pose, and a flash of light caught him trying to regain his balance. The taunts began immediately. He responded with force indifference or a threat of random violence. The other Doors were in other rooms. They played on, almost oblivious to his ranting and raving. A familiar riff would begin, the audience would briefly come to attention, and he would leave the spotlight to inflict his boredom on them. He would fall into shadows searching for worthy opponents. There were glimpses of physical confrontations: crewcutted jocks protecting their interested girlfriends from his suggestions. Morrison's fist shooting blindly in the direction of obscene threats as a fat security guard grabs at him with a pathetic attempt to control the situation. Morrison embraces the guard and tries to pull him towards the stage while delivering a passionate plea for weight loss. The guard frees himself, runs up the aisle to derisive laughter, dropping his hat. Morrison tries to wear the hat but it is too small and suddenly he is disgusted with the whole scene and lets out a frenzied scream. Silence in the theater for the moment. The audience stared as though it was a horrible car crash where the spirit was maimed and the blood ran into the gutter of the soul. Morrison twitched in some kind of death throes. The concert ended abruptly. Morrison howled but it was not with ecstasy. It was more Ginsberg than Blake. The lights came up before the band could walk back up the aisles and the audience booed. Morrison stood still listening. I stared so that my eyes would forever cover him. Some people were leaving, others still booing, a few watched him as intensely as I did. Then in this haphazard atmosphere he threw back his head and began to chant and dance in place like some possessed American Indian brave consecrating a sacred land, cleaning the abuse and disdain with singular belief so powerful that shivers ran through me. And my heart froze with undeniable blessing. A girl ran at him with scissors flashing to cut his hair and he disappeared into a circle of anonymous flesh carried him away."
David Dalton. . New York: 1991
May 24 - Hi-Corbett Field Randolph Park, Tucson, AZ
Teeners' verdict on The Doors: GROOVY"
"A hushed 'Here they come' ran through the crowd and necks craned expectantly towards the small gate outside the right field foul line. The three Doors' musicians...mounted the stage looking all business. They positioned themselves with their instruments and immediately started playing. After a short musical introduction, singer-warlock Jim Morrison, wearing skin-tight leather pants, a pea coat and a sullen expression, leaped up the side stairs, faked a spastic stumble crossing the stage, and lurched into the lyrics in a slightly hoarse voice. it is undeniably compelling. The creative nature of the Doors' musicianship became more apparent with every song. Their versatility with the instruments and their unique rapport in the tight arrangements provided a perfect backdrop for Morrison's jolting images...the whole situation began to take on an atmosphere of unreality."
Greg Robertson, Tucson Daily Citizen, June 29, 1968
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 23, 2004 22:44:41 GMT
November 1 - Milwaukee Arena Milwaukee, WI
Acid rock singers etch their message"
"The Doors, to the uninitiated, are no wooden set of guitar pickers and brassy vocalists. They are possibly the leading exponents of acid rock - acid in terms of drug oriented, perhaps; acid in terms of social commentary, certainly. They plug into Morrison as 1,300 watts of amplified sound blast into their minds, a sound so loud it drives thought out, a sound so loud it pins the value judgements of the adult world to the far wall of the arena and leaves them squirming helplessly. From 'Light My Fire' to 'The End'...the sinister lyrics socked their satanically sensual message to the crowd."
Pierre-Rene Noth, Milwaukee Journal, Nov. 2, 1968
The Doors at the Seattle Pop Festival, 1969
"Something has happened to the Doors. Ray Manzarek knows it, several thousand people who attended the Seattle Pop Festival know, and probably so does Jim Morrison.
Once one of the vital influences in rock, the Doors apparently have been captured entirely by the ego-tripping of Morrison. Instead of giving the audiences the music that turned us all on a couple of years back, the Doors now come on like some kind of carnival sideshow, with Morrison as the geek out front.
I'm not sure what I expected of Morrison and the Doors at the Seattle Pop Festival, but I hadn't seen them perform in more than a year and was as curious as anyone' about the changes they were said to have gone through.
The tension there was high. Only a chickenwire fence separated the stage -and us - from 40,000 rock fans, fronted by a phalanx of screaming teenyboppers who had come out from Seattle for the day just to see Morrison. Black Panthers recruited by promoter Boyd Grafmyre patrolled along the fence, politely asking the jammed-in kids not to crash the stage.
Vanilla Fudge was just finishing its set - a fine series of songs from their new album "Rock 'n Roll". It was the first time I had heard the group live and their performance belied their commercial reputation as they played some of the best rock of the weekend. An unappreciative knot of kids in front of the stage, though, hooted and screamed out for the Doors.
The Fudge finished its set and started to leave the stage, but was called back for an encore. More boos came from the people pressed against the retaining fence, but this time the derision was drowned out by the applause of older hands who recognized the group's new direction.
When Fudge closed out its extended set with a rollicking, spirited version of "Shotgun," even the wall of squirming kids gave them a well-deserved hand.
Then the tension built higher. The chants started in front, then spread through the biggest rock audience ever gathered in the Pacific Northwest. "We want Morrison." "We want the Doors." "We want Morrison." Empty wine bottles and garbage cans were converted to drums which accompanied the hollow chant. Those of us in the press area felt the animal presence revealed in the primitive rhythm of the chanting audience. For the first time, we seriously began discussing an escape route in case the crowd should rush the stage.
Manzarek walked first onto the darkened stage. As he struck a single note on his keyboard the chants stopped. The crowd was waiting in silent anticipation. Few realized that Morrison, dressed in denim work coat and wearing a full beard, had been on and off the stage several times.
As John Densmore tested his drums the crowd tensed again, still waiting for the harsh-throated singer they thought they would recognize from their album covers. Then came Morrison.
Looking old and a little wild he walked to his microphone, lovingly stroked his black mustache, smiled evilly at the 14year-old girls behind me, and laughed. "This is where it's at, now," he said, still running his hands through his beard When he opened with "When the 'Music's Over," Morrison sounded almost like the singer he used to be. As the song continued, however, so did his crude asides. When he was through someone tossed a crumpled cup at him. Morrison gave his unseen assailant the finger. The crowd dug it.
The Doors ran through an obligatory five minutes of "Light My Fire," a song Morrison told an interviewer earlier this year he wouldn't perform again in public. "It stinks. We're beyond that now." He had said. His performance of the song, only a ghost of the recorded version, indicated he probably does think it stinks - and that's the way he sang it. More than anything else, Morrison's attitude dominated the stage throughout the show. Puffing on a cigar borrowed from a stagehand, he continued on his uninterrupted ego trip, all the while abusing, insulting and ridiculing his audience. It was apparent that this wasn't the Morrison the young chicks had come to see.
The tension on the fence behind me relaxed, and we no longer feared the teenyboppers would try to crash the stage. They didn't want him that bad. "I read in the paper that some shrink says people like me who perform on stage are crazy," Morrison was shouting. "I read that they didn't get enough love when they were kids ... I didn't get enough love."
It was a personal ego thing. He combed his fingers through his long beard, then ran his hands down his chest and along his legs. "He's got a hard on," the chick behind me whispered. It looked as if she was right. So Morrison turned himself on in front of 40,000 people. But he still wasn't making music -only speeches.
Someone out front made an audible remark. Morrison latched onto it, called the person a big-mouthed bastard, dared him to repeat it. "Get it all out. All the little hatreds, everything that's boiled up inside you. Let me have it," he commanded.
"Fuck you," the crowd- screamed. "That's the word I wanted to hear. That's the very little word," Morrison told them. A quiet voice from the audience said "Shuck!" Morrison laughed.
Speeches done, the band went into "Five to One." But the audience no longer was willing to follow Morrison. Obviously not getting the response he was after in his bubblegum revolution song. He grabbed a maraca and pretended to beat off. He hugged the guitarist Robby Krieger and made faces at the teenage chicks. Manzarek shook his head. It was hard to tell if he was keeping time with the music or thinking about Morrison.
The set ended with the Doors' traditional "This is the End." A sparkler flew from the crowd and bounced off the light show screen, as stagehands rushed to extinguish it. Morrison never noticed. He had digressed from the recognized version of his song and was parodying the old Negro blues singers.
"I’se an old blues man. I’se an old blues man, getting anything I can," he sang.
Then he slipped back into "The End," moving toward the Oedipal climax where he would say "Mother, I want to –." Only the song didn't stop there. "I wanna make love, sweet, sweet love to you all night long," he sang on.
Then the set was over. Manzarek switched off the recorded bass accompaniment and left the stage. Krieger and Densmore followed. Morrison hung there, very still, bathed in a red flood, with head drooped, eyes closed and arms outstretched - Christ on the cross. After the performance he gave, it was difficult to accept his crucifixion gesture without feeling that he was doing it to himself.
I waited for him as he left the stage, flanked by several newsmen and some of his staff. "It's going to be all night," he was saying over and over. The groupies just lined the stage stairs and watched as Morrison climbed into his chartered helicopter and was lifted into the sky - a continuance, though unintellectual, of his Christ pose.
Boyd Grafmyre turned to me "That's a quick way for him to make $30,000," he said.
Back on stage Led Zeppelin was making an attentive audience forget the proceeding act, just as they had, forgotten the others when the Doors came on stage.
But Jim Morrison is in no danger of being out of work, unless he loses Manzarek or Krieger or decides to do a Joplin on his own. All he has to do is show his ass on stage in an uptight town, get arrested and become a cult hero to millions of teenyboppers who don't seem to mind being insulted and laughed at. But some of us still like music, Jim"
July 27 - Gold Creek Park Woodinville, Seattle, WA
Post by ensenada on Dec 24, 2004 11:26:37 GMT
talking about the doors in concert, the doors live in concert double cd is a fave of mine. but was it all recorded from a single gig in new york or two seperate ones? or was it a compilation from numerous concerts? there are a lot of references to new york on there, e.g. Jim says "well thats new york for you, the only people who rush the stage are guys, yer know" and the guy at the end after soul kitchen sounds very new yorkish to me.
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 24, 2004 11:31:34 GMT
talking about the doors in concert, the doors live in concert double cd is a fave of mine. but was it all recorded from a single gig in new york or two seperate ones? or was it a compilation from numerous concerts? there are a lot of references to new york on there, e.g. Jim says "well thats new york for you, the only people who rush the stage are guys, yer know" and the guy at the end after soul kitchen sounds very new yorkish to me.
Its Absolutely Live mixed in with Alive She Cried....
AL was recorded in Philly, Boston, NY, LA, Detroit(dead rats) &Pittsburgh
BMR has all the AL gigs but as long as R$ay sees a $ in this Disclive link up we will never hear them.
Post by ensenada on Dec 24, 2004 15:25:41 GMT
that bloody ray geezer!
i think the cd is excellent, some great live stuff on there. gloria is great, COTL superb, build me a woman, and a fuckin brilliant soul kitchen, oh and who do you love, its a brilliant cd!
the end is also one of the best on there, is it the one from hollywood bowl? i think it is, not listened to that cd for a bit. ;D
Post by ensenada on Dec 24, 2004 15:43:03 GMT
I also adore the lite my fire on there, i wonder where that was recorded? with the "we tripped the grave yard ans scaled the fences, ancient shapes where all around us etc" or something like that. I loved the way Jim could improvise through songs.
I wonder if this from lite my fire was improvised and i wonder if the hollwood bowl the end performance was improvised, or was it planned?
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 24, 2004 16:14:40 GMT
LMF was from Boston I do believe & The End is as you say the Bowl.
I doubt Morrison planned what he was gonna do...at least not in the sense we would define planning.
I would imagine he would walk on stage with a few ideas in his head and once the lights went up take it as it came!
R$ay sells shows now with his mates but back then The Doors sold experiences not shows.
You walked in and you never knew what the hell you were gonna see.....must have been a truly amazing thing to go to a Doors gig!
Something we can only imagine today...pity!
Post by ensenada on Dec 24, 2004 17:05:19 GMT
i know mate, it pisses me of when some of them muppets on theLL actually believe the dorks to be the doors reincarnate and wet thmselves pver the concerts. I have been to 2 now and realise that it cant compare remotely to what THE DOORS where then and how electric the atmosphere would have been. they never knew what our boy morrison was gonna do next!
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 27, 2004 14:40:44 GMT
The art of The Doors is, more and more, removed from those standards of art by which rock music is measured. It is, therefore, understandable that The Doors keep getting the worst imaginable reviews from those who put them on some sort of rock pedestal in the first place. It is also understandable that The Doors are still around and are likely to remain forever, despite all that crap, their art surviving all their critics.
The trouble is that The Doors have not conformed to fashion and have not, as almost every other major rock group has done, made a fetish of growing, changing, developing, and reverting to form. They have, instead, played out their own fantasies at their own pace in their own way, saying the hell with everyone else. The result was a subtler, deeper growth than that of almost all of their contemporaries. But, as I said, it is not as a rock group that these changes have taken place; it has become increasingly clear that their art is the art of restlessness and rebellion, the art of getting through that restlessness and that rebellion by personal investment, by piling up of obsessive, compulsive images; the art, finally, of poetry and drama, where the personal and the obsessive are the shrines at whose feet true artists always worship.
Where The Doors have arrived, in terms of maturity, and of making some new statement about themselves and on their restless art, was there for all to see in their two appearances recently at the Aquarius Theater, where they recorded a live album. This album, I'm sure, will convince everyone that The Doors have gotten it together, because the electricity in the air, the magic that was created that evening, was a testament to the fact that whatever it was The Doors had once upon a time, when they and their world were younger, they not only had again in spades but had the added virtue of being as sublime and self-assured as they were once brash and vulgar (not vulgar in the bad sense, since the best rock n roll has always had more than a trace of real vulgarity, which after all is a true American trait, and not necessarily one to be ashamed of or to avoid on artistic terms).
There was Jim Morrison, more the rabbinical student than the Sex God and looking more comfortable in the new guise. Seeming less selfconscious, but singing, if anything, better than even his greatest fans thought he could sing, and projecting truer sex than he ever did when he writhed calculatedly, because the sex was warmer, more secure. Not that he wasn't capable of the old theatrical excitement as he proved in one electrifying moment when he disappeared from the stage for a few minutes, then showed up suddenly in a blue flame (all right, so it was only a blue light shining on him!) above the audience's head, growling out "The Celebration Of The Lizard."
For me it was the personal pleasure of seeing what Morrison could really do, since the only other live appearance of The Doors that I had seen was the Hollywood Bowl concert, which was a drag. It was the excitement of seeing them live up to an image that had become all but distorted, for surely the bum-rapping The Doors have received in the past year was as out of proportion to the reality of their talent as perhaps the early praise was. That, indeed, may be the real tragedy of their public image, the fact that they were praised too much too soon and were forced almost immediately, before getting a chance to move on in their own direction, to become a commercial commodity, to have to live up to an already overblown success image.
I'm not altogether sure that my own admiration of The Doors has anything to do with their music. Some of it is terrible, but I find the degree to which they give themselves to banality is more strikingly impressive than the degree to which lesser artists consciously avoid banality. It seems to me that if a group has truly reached the poetic heights, they should enjoy the luxury of making gross mistakes; too few do either one or the other. It's like Morrison's poetry; some of it is the work of a genuine poet, a Whitman of a revolution-ready 60s, and some of it is embarrassingly sophomoric. There is no crime in going from one artistic extreme to another; these are, after all, human flaws, and there is no art if there is no humanity.
But again, it's not their music at all, and maybe not even the poetry or the musicianship or the charisma, neither the albums nor the Aquarius concert, all of it as strange and beautiful and exciting as it is, that really makes me admire The Doors. Instead it's the vibes I get from them because of the thing I feel they're trying to get into and get us into, a world that transcends the limited one of rock, and moves into areas of film and theater and revolution. Seeing Morrison not on stage, but living his life, in those quieter moments; seeing him at a production of Norman Mailer's The Deer Park, at every performance of The Living Theater, at the opening of The Company Theater's James Joyce Memorial Liquid Theater; always at the right place at the right time, involved furiously in the kind of art that is pertinent rather than tangential to living. That kind of person doesn't have to have poetry in him but if he does, when he does, you tend to look at it more closely, take it more seriously. In the case of Jim Morrison and The Doors, it is worth the trouble. They have approached Art, no matter how much they have offended, amused, or even thrilled the rock critics. The standards by which their art must be measured are older and deeper.
by Harvey Perr 1969
The Los Angeles Free Press August 8, 1969
Post by ensenada on Dec 28, 2004 0:59:17 GMT
judging by the articles and the stories told, like jim said "rock is dead!" "the death of me is the death of rock". Since Jim have we ever really seen a front man act as flambouyanlty (gotta be spelt wrong) as him? there are so many good bands these days, and really recent ones like kasabian, the killers, the zutons and frans ferdinand, but none of the have front men that demand such attention and presence as jim did, I dont think anyone really has since his death.
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Dec 28, 2004 14:58:22 GMT
I think also its got a lot to do with the 'times' themselves..
Music is more commercial than ever nowadays and manufactured bands appear every week......the days of driving arround in a van looking for a gig in a pub are long gone....now bands set up websites and send CDs to record companies.
30 years ago we had so many bands who were living on a bag of chick peas desperate to get noticed.
Jim so broke he slept on a roof or on the beach....
does not happen nowadays....Neil Young said best it in Crime In The CityThe artist looked at the producer
The producer sat back
He said, What we have got here
Is a perfect track
But we don't have a vocal
And we don't have a song
If we could get
these things accomplished
Nothin' else could go wrong.
So he balanced the ashtray
As he picked up the phone
And said, Send me a songwriter
Who's drifted far from home
And make sure that he's hungry
Make sure he's alone
Send me a cheeseburger
And a new Rolling Stone.
Thats what made so many good artists in the 60s....a hunger.....not just for food (as many were destitute before they found fame) but to prove thier talent.
That hunger resulted in some amazing 60s and 70s gigs and albums.
Hunger like that does not exist much nowadays......there are so many outlets for artists due to the Net, TV and record companies desperately trying to find the next big thing......
We will NEVER see the likes of the music in the 60s and 70s again.....there will never be another Jim as its practically impossible to find anyone that hard up....
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Jan 1, 2005 0:40:52 GMT
Sat. Dec. 12: The Warehouse - New Orleans, LA
The concert begins nomally but then about halfway through Jim begins to completely omit key lyrics not seemingly in the music at all and then just slumps against the microphone stand as if it were the only thing holding him upright. A little later he tries to tell a few jokes that nobody can understand and the place begins to get quiet as everyone begins to realize something is wrong. The band omits a lot of the song list and jumps to "Light My Fire". At this point Jim has been barely singing along, if not mumbling the lyrics to songs as he uses the mic stand for support - it is a sad sight!
During "Light My Fire" Jim loses all composure and slumps down on the drum riser and does not even get up when it is his time to sing - he doesn't even budge. The band goes through their parts again waiting for Jim. John kicks Jim and shoves him forward. Jim then reluctantly moves towards the front of the stage and does his best to sing along but cannot even come close. In frustration, Jim picks up the mic stand and continually slams it into the stage eventually splintering the wood. He then throws the stand and storms off the stage leaving the band alone and the audience confused to say the least. The band however completes their performance but I'm sure feels extreme embarrasment and dissappointment, as does Jim as well. This is the last time Jim sings live with The Doors.
Mid December: The Doors Break From Touring
After New Orleans The Doors decide to take a break from playing live and focus on their remaining studio fulfillments with Elektra records.
Doors Interactive History
"We're kind of off playing concerts; somehow no one enjoys the big places anymore, and to go into clubs more than just a night is kind of meaningless."
Rolling Stone March 3, 1971 "Jim Morrison's got the blues,"
Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Jan 11, 2005 13:19:36 GMT
Ray Manzarek : What a show that was. I'll never forget seeing Jim Morrison carried out on a stretcher ... It's an interesting story ... We were in Germany and we were playing with Canned Heat and Canned Heat was doing a lot of hash ... "The Bear" had given Jim this large chunk of hash at the airport ... And we're about to cross a border ... And a rock and roll band and a bunch of "long-hairs" ... You know we're gonna get searched. So, our manager came up to us and said, "If anyone's got any dope then for God's sake ... get rid of it. We're going into Holland ... Get rid of it ... We're not gonna cross a border with anyone carrying anything" ... So Jim reached into his coat pocket and "Woops ... I've got this ball of hash ... Well,I guess I'll get rid of it ...gulp!"...And he shoved it into his mouth before any of us could anything. We all went, "Jim ... Oh ... No!" ... So, he started drinking on the airplane. Had a few drinks to wash it down you know ... We got to Amsterdam and he was no doubt feeling the effects of it by then ... And had a few more drinks at the hotel and was starting to get really out there ... We went to the auditorium and Jefferson Airplane was playing ... we were gonna go on second and then they were gonna go an again and we would go on again. It was two sets for each group ... By the time Jim got to the auditorium he was just blitzed ... absolutely gone ... Went on stage with the Jefferson Airplane ... Started dancing around in the middle of their set. He started singing with Grace Slick and hugging her ... I think he pinched her on the bottom or tried to do some obscene gesture with Grace Slick ... And then he finally sort of ... after five minutes ... danced off the stage. Went back into the dressing room and passed out cold ... Everyone tried to revive him, "Jim ... Jim!". Jefferson Airplane finished up their set, "Jim ... Jim!". The equipment is being changed ... Our equipment is ready to go and they've called the paramedics. The ambulance people come and take one look at him and say, "Listen, there's no way this guy's gonna go on. Are you kidding ... He can't go on and sing. We're taking him to hospital" ... They put him on a stretcher. They wrapped him up in a rubber sheet. They put an oxygen mask on his face ... I walked into the dressing room ... five minutes before it's time to go on stage ... And I walk in going, "Jim ... It's time to ..." And there goes Jim being carried out by two people. They put him into an ambulance, hit the siren and drove off. John and Robbie and I look at each other and go, "Wait a minute we're supposed to go on in two minutes" ... Our roadie is saying, "C'mon ... c'mon ... we're ready" ... "We're ready" ... What will we do.We've got two sets to do tonight ... And our manager said, "You can't cancel ... Just go out there and do it. You guys go out there" ... "Us ... well, we know the songs" ... And I said, "Okay Vince ... Give me a vocal mike". Put a mike on a boom - put it over the keyboards. "Give Robbie a vocal mike and we'll just go out and hope that everyone accepts the fact that Jim Morrison's not here ... Let's not say anything about it. Let's just go out and start to play ... Hopefully they won't really notice" ... And we got through it. They didn't notice. Nobody said, "Hey where's Morrison".
Wait a minute ... on the tape you come out and say he's been taken to hospital or something like that.
Ray Manzarek : Did I ... Well, thank God ... Okay, Good ... Did I actually tell the audience, "We're sorry but Jim Morrison will not be here tonight" (laughs).
You told them something like that.
Ray Manzarek : "Jim Morrison is incapacitated and has been taken away to the hospital" ... So we told them ... Well,that's probably why they were so nice about it and said, "Well,okay ... just go ahead and play some Doors' songs" ... You know they didn't really care as long as they got to hear "Light My Fire" ... and they did. So everything worked out very nicely ... But it was the hardest night of the Doors' career. We did two sets ...
Ray 'remembers' Amsterdam in 1968