Post by darkstar on Mar 8, 2005 13:09:10 GMT
INTERVIEW WITH RAY MANZAREK
By: Raj Bahadur
Master Of Rock – The Life and Times Of Jim Morrison
Vol. 1 No. 3
March 1991
In the years since his death, Jim Morrison has gone from rock enigma to certifiable legend, his charismatic appeal supported by the durability of the Doors’ music.
Not that Morrison ever ceased being an enigma. His death will always be a topic for conjecture, fueled by the facts that only his wife, and unidentifiable doctor, and possibly a mortuary attendant ever saw the body. Would Morrison have had it any other way?
Keyboardist Ray Manzarek brings the Doors’ life and times into perspective with a clarity devoid of hero worship. On stage, it may have appeared that Jim’s bandmates were only supporting musicians. In reality, as far as the creative process was concerned, a certain communality prevailed.
“Actually, we were more of an ensemble, though it may not have looked that way from the outside. Each person in the Doors had his chops up. Robby (Krieger-guitar) was a great musician. John (Densmore-drums) was a powerhouse. And of course, there was Jim contributing the words. Everybody put in what he had to offer. Out of it would come this music that was greater than the sum total of the four of us. In a way, that’s what the sixties were all about – giving yourself up to a common good, something better than you could ever conceive of.”<br>
The bespectacled Manzarek acted as an anchor of sorts- rational steady, even-tempered. It’s a description which he finds quite accurate. “Well, I had to be an anchor,” Manzarek says matter-of-factly. “Are you kidding? With Morrison – Dionysius personified – running wild, somebody had to keep it all together.”<br>
Despite Morrison’s wild antics, Manzarek reserves his undying respect for the self-named ‘Lizard King.’ I thought that Jim was one of the greatest guys America ever produced. I figured that by 1980, he’d be running for the highest office. Could you have pictured Morrison versus Reagan for the presidency? Come election time, Jim might have had some explaining to do about his past. Manzarek acknowledges this. When asked why the Doors never took their difficult lead singer aside for a discussion about his behavior, the former keyboard player replies unabashedly: “We never did that. That would have been a confrontational movie an era when we were saying our confrontational urges for a higher authority. If I had said, “You’re weak in this area,’ he could have responded, “Well your weak in that area,” which would have meant the end of the group.
“You must understand the power of the spoken word. ‘no’. A ‘no’ carries an extremely powerful vibration. It’s not just the meaning, but the power. When you say ‘no’ to someone, that’s a load of negative energy you’ve created. The Doors operated on affirmative energy in an attempt to harness creative impulses. We didn’t need any negativity. There was enough of that with Vietnam. The shit was on the wall and dripping down. We didn’t want anything to do with that way of life.”<br>
Time is a natural healer, and Manzarek enjoys easy access to a bank of positive memories. Among them, the creative process heads the list. “Someone would throw out an idea, and maybe it wouldn’t work. But at least that person would know it and suggest something else. We’d just continue trading ideas off of each other, back and forth, until we achieved some sense of completion. Composing was a thrill.”<br>
When the product of those sit downs hit the airwaves, the Doors were in business. “The best times were the private times,” remembers Manzarek. “Like driving with my wife down Sunset Boulevard on our way to the beach early one summer afternoon when ‘Light My Fire’ came on the radio for the first time. I spent the rest of the day screaming, ‘We made it!’ like a madman.”<br>
Ranking a close second is The Doors’ July 5 1968 concert, recorded for posterity on video “The Doors: Live At The Hollywood Bowl.” States Manzarek, “That gig meant we had finally scored in LA. We went from playing the beach in Venice, California to the skuzzy London Fog on Sunset Strip to the Whisky A-Go-Go as the house band. Then we got a recording contract which lead to Psychedelic Ballroom dates. And then, at long last, the Hollywood Bowl. The Doors were going to play the Hollywood Bowl! We said, ‘Let’s film it in style – four or five cameras, a super slo-mo camera, (let’s) bring in a remote truck and capture the whole thing first class.”<br>
The excitement produced by the artistry onstage was rivaled by the private moments that preceded it backstage. “The dressing room was filled with John and Robby’s realitives and our friends from the UCLA Film School. (It was) an absolute riot.
“The bill was a real Southern California psychedelic stew. The Chambers Brothers opened with “Time Has Come Today,” followed by Steppenwolf. Everybody had hits.
“We were pacing back and forth like caged lions in a zoo waiting for the gates to open so we could hit the stage. On top of it, we had dinner with the Rolling Stones before the show. Just as we were getting ready to leave, they came over to the office. ‘Hi mates! You wanna go have something to eat?’ So there we were, wining and dining with the Stones, our heroes. It was because of the Stones that the Doors got into rock ‘n’ roll. The first time we saw them, we said, “Let’s be like these guys,’ We were sitting on the beach in Venice in ’65 reading front page headlines: ‘Rolling Stones Come To Town.’ They went to art school, and played Chicago blues – (they were) not much different than us. It gave us something to shoot for. They’d made millions, saw the world, and got lots of girls. What could be better?”
By: Raj Bahadur
Master Of Rock – The Life and Times Of Jim Morrison
Vol. 1 No. 3
March 1991
In the years since his death, Jim Morrison has gone from rock enigma to certifiable legend, his charismatic appeal supported by the durability of the Doors’ music.
Not that Morrison ever ceased being an enigma. His death will always be a topic for conjecture, fueled by the facts that only his wife, and unidentifiable doctor, and possibly a mortuary attendant ever saw the body. Would Morrison have had it any other way?
Keyboardist Ray Manzarek brings the Doors’ life and times into perspective with a clarity devoid of hero worship. On stage, it may have appeared that Jim’s bandmates were only supporting musicians. In reality, as far as the creative process was concerned, a certain communality prevailed.
“Actually, we were more of an ensemble, though it may not have looked that way from the outside. Each person in the Doors had his chops up. Robby (Krieger-guitar) was a great musician. John (Densmore-drums) was a powerhouse. And of course, there was Jim contributing the words. Everybody put in what he had to offer. Out of it would come this music that was greater than the sum total of the four of us. In a way, that’s what the sixties were all about – giving yourself up to a common good, something better than you could ever conceive of.”<br>
The bespectacled Manzarek acted as an anchor of sorts- rational steady, even-tempered. It’s a description which he finds quite accurate. “Well, I had to be an anchor,” Manzarek says matter-of-factly. “Are you kidding? With Morrison – Dionysius personified – running wild, somebody had to keep it all together.”<br>
Despite Morrison’s wild antics, Manzarek reserves his undying respect for the self-named ‘Lizard King.’ I thought that Jim was one of the greatest guys America ever produced. I figured that by 1980, he’d be running for the highest office. Could you have pictured Morrison versus Reagan for the presidency? Come election time, Jim might have had some explaining to do about his past. Manzarek acknowledges this. When asked why the Doors never took their difficult lead singer aside for a discussion about his behavior, the former keyboard player replies unabashedly: “We never did that. That would have been a confrontational movie an era when we were saying our confrontational urges for a higher authority. If I had said, “You’re weak in this area,’ he could have responded, “Well your weak in that area,” which would have meant the end of the group.
“You must understand the power of the spoken word. ‘no’. A ‘no’ carries an extremely powerful vibration. It’s not just the meaning, but the power. When you say ‘no’ to someone, that’s a load of negative energy you’ve created. The Doors operated on affirmative energy in an attempt to harness creative impulses. We didn’t need any negativity. There was enough of that with Vietnam. The shit was on the wall and dripping down. We didn’t want anything to do with that way of life.”<br>
Time is a natural healer, and Manzarek enjoys easy access to a bank of positive memories. Among them, the creative process heads the list. “Someone would throw out an idea, and maybe it wouldn’t work. But at least that person would know it and suggest something else. We’d just continue trading ideas off of each other, back and forth, until we achieved some sense of completion. Composing was a thrill.”<br>
When the product of those sit downs hit the airwaves, the Doors were in business. “The best times were the private times,” remembers Manzarek. “Like driving with my wife down Sunset Boulevard on our way to the beach early one summer afternoon when ‘Light My Fire’ came on the radio for the first time. I spent the rest of the day screaming, ‘We made it!’ like a madman.”<br>
Ranking a close second is The Doors’ July 5 1968 concert, recorded for posterity on video “The Doors: Live At The Hollywood Bowl.” States Manzarek, “That gig meant we had finally scored in LA. We went from playing the beach in Venice, California to the skuzzy London Fog on Sunset Strip to the Whisky A-Go-Go as the house band. Then we got a recording contract which lead to Psychedelic Ballroom dates. And then, at long last, the Hollywood Bowl. The Doors were going to play the Hollywood Bowl! We said, ‘Let’s film it in style – four or five cameras, a super slo-mo camera, (let’s) bring in a remote truck and capture the whole thing first class.”<br>
The excitement produced by the artistry onstage was rivaled by the private moments that preceded it backstage. “The dressing room was filled with John and Robby’s realitives and our friends from the UCLA Film School. (It was) an absolute riot.
“The bill was a real Southern California psychedelic stew. The Chambers Brothers opened with “Time Has Come Today,” followed by Steppenwolf. Everybody had hits.
“We were pacing back and forth like caged lions in a zoo waiting for the gates to open so we could hit the stage. On top of it, we had dinner with the Rolling Stones before the show. Just as we were getting ready to leave, they came over to the office. ‘Hi mates! You wanna go have something to eat?’ So there we were, wining and dining with the Stones, our heroes. It was because of the Stones that the Doors got into rock ‘n’ roll. The first time we saw them, we said, “Let’s be like these guys,’ We were sitting on the beach in Venice in ’65 reading front page headlines: ‘Rolling Stones Come To Town.’ They went to art school, and played Chicago blues – (they were) not much different than us. It gave us something to shoot for. They’d made millions, saw the world, and got lots of girls. What could be better?”