Hey, wait a minute… July 3rd… 50 years… Jim Morrison?
Paris-July 2, 1971
In the photo above Jim Morrison sits with Pam Courson at a Paris café table. James Douglas Morrison in hours would slip away forever. There are many accounts of how and why Jim Morrison died. From all that I’ve read- Occam’s Razor (the bad heroin mixed with Booze and bad health and substantiated physical injuries caused heart failure) is the best explanation. And let’s add a decade or more of substance abuse. Hey wait a minute that doesn’t sound like Occam’s Razor! Nothing Jim Morrison ever did was understandable in our everyday world.
At the time of Morrison’s death I was a pop Doors fan. Light my Fire–Love her Madly–Touch me. As I grew older (Jim would probably say ” And wiser”) The guy did have a sense of humor to the point of bizarre stunts on and off stage. I grew older and the voice drew me to other songs but not the complete repertoire. As I experienced the roller coaster of life there was a slow melding into the panoply of Doors material and appreciation of Ray Manzarek, Robbie Krieger and John Densmore. With the headphones on I hear the drums as a part of the music. And Ray’s jazzy rock gluing the songs together. Or the fingernail pickin’ Robbie Kreiger producing rock into the songs as if all the Doors were born from the same cosmic creature!
With other rock groups and singers, I appreciate the music with a- “That’s a good song” or ” Great Group.” I can play Beatles music for hours and grasp the talent and the variety of songs as well as the meaningful servings of four lads from Liverpool who rocked the world. With the Doors it’s remarkably different. But Morrison is the juice. Turn the volume up let’s say to L.A. Woman. I’m not just tapping my feet. With the Doors I’m sinking into the song. In Billy Joel’s Good Night Saigon the boys who were sent into the meat grinder called Vietnam had no cameras to shoot the landscape. They passed the hash pipe and played their Doors tapes. Say what? This is what I’m talking about. I have no hash pipe. The closest thing for me is Dunkin Donuts almond blend coffee. Those guys in Vietnam didn’t just listen- they experienced Morrison and the Doors. That’s what I mean when I say-sinking into the music.
Let’s get down to the nitty gritty. Jim Morrison was an enigma. He will always be an enigma. I get a lot of facts and figures with I explore Morrison’s life in books or in documentaries. Something I may not have known. Chasing after the meaning of Jim Morrison is like Mr. Spock asking the computer to ascertain the value of pi. Like quantum physicists who change the placement of electrons by trying to measure them. Jim Morrison changes when you try to nail down exactly who he is. Folks, here’s the answer. Jim Morrison was and is like a Rubik’s Cube- Twist and turn. You never know what you’re going to get.
The Rubik’s Cube Enigma