Post by darkstar on Jan 31, 2005 11:42:06 GMT
THE EXPLOSIVE JIM MORRISON
by Mike Grant - September 1968
Jim Morrison lives in exaggerations- the dragged-out half stumble and
the sloth-like stance on stage, the upturned, pouting face with eyes
clenched shut, the ponderous but precise speaking voice which is out
of the best Brando mould.
James Douglas Morrison, Superstar, Poet, and idol of America's rising
generation, would be a perfect target for the satirist. That apart,
he is not as black as he has been painted.
Already prewarned by colleagues of Morrison's erratic behaviour to
ward the British press during The Doors' recent and eventful stay
here, it did not cool my apprehension any to read, on my way to see
Mr. Morrison, his publicist's claim that he can be civil, polite,
even erudite one day; yet gross or, as Jim says, "primitive" the
next. Which extreme was I about to face?
"He's been quite good today", said his British publicist at Polydor-
Elektra Records, with the air of a keeper talking about London Zoo's
naughtiest lion. I was ushered into a small room containing The Doors
sundry people flitting back and forth with no apparent purpose. Most
of them were hovering on the edge of Morrison's conversation and it
was Jim, in open-necked shirt and tight black leather jeans, who
dominated the room.
Among those present with some purpose were three gentlemen in a
Granada Television team filming the whole Doors visit with a rare
degree of dedication. A bored-looking Robbie Krieger, Doors' guitar
man, was to tell me later that they had even followed one of them to
the toilet! Next to Robbie was drummer John Densmore, an active
Maharishi student, colourfully attired, who was sitting cross-legged
on his chair, saying little and watching the chaos that was supposed
to be a press conference. In another corner sat Ray Manzarek with a
polite smile on his face and a polite line in answers.
Krieger, hiding behind dark glasses and an uncontrolled growth of
beard had some interesting things to say about Morrison in the short
interview which came to a sharp end at the sight of a Granada man
crawling along the floor and pushing a huge mike up into our faces. A
camera was mean while probing the recesses of my left ear.
What of Jim's reported moods? "It depends," said Robbie, "which day
of the week you get him. It is just the way he is. I think I
understand him as well as anybody through being with him for three
years, but I still don't understand him completely."
Morrison certainly knows how to project himself and has an actor's
feel for presence. Questions are met by prolonged periods of deep
thought accompanied by closed eyes and an intense expression
downward. He can often take so long to answer that the poor
interviewer finds he's lost track of his precise inquiry. Answers
themselves, delivered in a half-stumbling tone reminiscent of Jim's
movements on stage, are accompanied by intense glances skyward.
He first wished to extend his praise for the behaviour of the
audience during The Doors' two London concerts at the
Roundhouse. "They were one of the best audiences we've ever had.
Everyone seemed to take it so easy. It was like going back to the
roots again and it stimulated us to give a good performance. They
were fantastic. That's all I can say. Except that we enjoyed playing
at the Roundhouse more than any other date for years."
While on the subject of their stage act, I asked Jim how important
the sex angle was. "Sex is just one part of my act. There are a lot
of other factors. It is important I guess, but I don't think it is
the main thing, although all music is a very nature-based thing. So
they can't be separated. But the sex thing has been picked out
because it sells papers."
How important were politics in his writing? "I don't think so far
politics has been a major theme in my songs. It is there in a few
songs, but it is a very minor theme. Politics is people and their
interaction with other people, so you cannot really separate it from
anything."
I became aware at this point that there was a hint, only a hint,
about Morrison that he was reluctant to take himself seriously. The
journalist faithfully transcribing Morrison's thoughts to paper would
be well advised to glance up from his work for a second- and there
you may see just the trace of an inward smile on the handsome
countenance.
Jim acknowledges that Elvis Presley along with other giants of the
era, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Gene Vincent, was
an early and strong influence on him. He says: "Their influence was
due to their music and the fact I heard them at an age when I was
kinda ready for an influence."
Jim was courteous enough to me. But a glimpse of what the "primitive"
Morrison could be like came out at the questioning of one persistent
reporter who asked him first about the comparisons between him and
Mick Jagger. "I've always thought comparisons were useless and ugly.
It is a short cut to thinking," replied Jim, in what seemed to be too
glib an answer to an off-the-cuff comment. He went into deep thought,
with eyes closed and down, and finally replied, "Well, how do you see
yourself?" The questioner pressed for an answer. More deep
thought. "That's a rhetorical answer. You might as well ask me how do
I see my left palm."
I asked him if he found the group's followers coming to him to be
taught how to live. "I get incredible letters," he replied, "but they
teach me how to live rather than me teach them. My fans are
intelligent youngsters and very sensitive."
On a par with Morrison's writing is his stage performance- often
described as evil. Jim prefers the term primeval. "I was less
theatrical, less artificial when I began," he says, "but now the
audiences we play for are much larger and the rooms wider. It's
necessary to project more. I think when your a small dot at the end
of a large arena, you have to make up for that lack of intimacy with
expanded movements."
Source: brandicootjr.tripod.com/explosive.htm
by Mike Grant - September 1968
Jim Morrison lives in exaggerations- the dragged-out half stumble and
the sloth-like stance on stage, the upturned, pouting face with eyes
clenched shut, the ponderous but precise speaking voice which is out
of the best Brando mould.
James Douglas Morrison, Superstar, Poet, and idol of America's rising
generation, would be a perfect target for the satirist. That apart,
he is not as black as he has been painted.
Already prewarned by colleagues of Morrison's erratic behaviour to
ward the British press during The Doors' recent and eventful stay
here, it did not cool my apprehension any to read, on my way to see
Mr. Morrison, his publicist's claim that he can be civil, polite,
even erudite one day; yet gross or, as Jim says, "primitive" the
next. Which extreme was I about to face?
"He's been quite good today", said his British publicist at Polydor-
Elektra Records, with the air of a keeper talking about London Zoo's
naughtiest lion. I was ushered into a small room containing The Doors
sundry people flitting back and forth with no apparent purpose. Most
of them were hovering on the edge of Morrison's conversation and it
was Jim, in open-necked shirt and tight black leather jeans, who
dominated the room.
Among those present with some purpose were three gentlemen in a
Granada Television team filming the whole Doors visit with a rare
degree of dedication. A bored-looking Robbie Krieger, Doors' guitar
man, was to tell me later that they had even followed one of them to
the toilet! Next to Robbie was drummer John Densmore, an active
Maharishi student, colourfully attired, who was sitting cross-legged
on his chair, saying little and watching the chaos that was supposed
to be a press conference. In another corner sat Ray Manzarek with a
polite smile on his face and a polite line in answers.
Krieger, hiding behind dark glasses and an uncontrolled growth of
beard had some interesting things to say about Morrison in the short
interview which came to a sharp end at the sight of a Granada man
crawling along the floor and pushing a huge mike up into our faces. A
camera was mean while probing the recesses of my left ear.
What of Jim's reported moods? "It depends," said Robbie, "which day
of the week you get him. It is just the way he is. I think I
understand him as well as anybody through being with him for three
years, but I still don't understand him completely."
Morrison certainly knows how to project himself and has an actor's
feel for presence. Questions are met by prolonged periods of deep
thought accompanied by closed eyes and an intense expression
downward. He can often take so long to answer that the poor
interviewer finds he's lost track of his precise inquiry. Answers
themselves, delivered in a half-stumbling tone reminiscent of Jim's
movements on stage, are accompanied by intense glances skyward.
He first wished to extend his praise for the behaviour of the
audience during The Doors' two London concerts at the
Roundhouse. "They were one of the best audiences we've ever had.
Everyone seemed to take it so easy. It was like going back to the
roots again and it stimulated us to give a good performance. They
were fantastic. That's all I can say. Except that we enjoyed playing
at the Roundhouse more than any other date for years."
While on the subject of their stage act, I asked Jim how important
the sex angle was. "Sex is just one part of my act. There are a lot
of other factors. It is important I guess, but I don't think it is
the main thing, although all music is a very nature-based thing. So
they can't be separated. But the sex thing has been picked out
because it sells papers."
How important were politics in his writing? "I don't think so far
politics has been a major theme in my songs. It is there in a few
songs, but it is a very minor theme. Politics is people and their
interaction with other people, so you cannot really separate it from
anything."
I became aware at this point that there was a hint, only a hint,
about Morrison that he was reluctant to take himself seriously. The
journalist faithfully transcribing Morrison's thoughts to paper would
be well advised to glance up from his work for a second- and there
you may see just the trace of an inward smile on the handsome
countenance.
Jim acknowledges that Elvis Presley along with other giants of the
era, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Gene Vincent, was
an early and strong influence on him. He says: "Their influence was
due to their music and the fact I heard them at an age when I was
kinda ready for an influence."
Jim was courteous enough to me. But a glimpse of what the "primitive"
Morrison could be like came out at the questioning of one persistent
reporter who asked him first about the comparisons between him and
Mick Jagger. "I've always thought comparisons were useless and ugly.
It is a short cut to thinking," replied Jim, in what seemed to be too
glib an answer to an off-the-cuff comment. He went into deep thought,
with eyes closed and down, and finally replied, "Well, how do you see
yourself?" The questioner pressed for an answer. More deep
thought. "That's a rhetorical answer. You might as well ask me how do
I see my left palm."
I asked him if he found the group's followers coming to him to be
taught how to live. "I get incredible letters," he replied, "but they
teach me how to live rather than me teach them. My fans are
intelligent youngsters and very sensitive."
On a par with Morrison's writing is his stage performance- often
described as evil. Jim prefers the term primeval. "I was less
theatrical, less artificial when I began," he says, "but now the
audiences we play for are much larger and the rooms wider. It's
necessary to project more. I think when your a small dot at the end
of a large arena, you have to make up for that lack of intimacy with
expanded movements."
Source: brandicootjr.tripod.com/explosive.htm