"His brain is squirming like a toad." What? Srsly. What?
OK, this I got via a link from the inimitable Sars:
And I laaaaaaaaaughed and laughed and laughed. Because y’all, Jim Morrison is the most jive frontman of the most jive band ever (Buddyhead says that title actually goes to Courtney Taylor of the Dandy Warhols, but in this instance and ONLY in this instance, they are wrong. I love the Dandy Warhols. Suck it, Buddyhead!).
I had my Morrison/Doors phase. If you are a straight female, a gay male, or a nascent music person of any gender or orientation, you had your Morrison/Doors phase too. Some of you may still be in yours, and for that, I’m sorry (unless you’re still fifteen, in which case you’ll get over it I hope, or you’re coming out of a lifetime of repression in some weird religious subculture, in which case you just go ahead and do what you need to do, old kid old sock).
Mine coincided with the release of the Doors movie (which my friend Lebowski was an extra in! woo!), and that only fueled the fire. The stupid, stupid fire. Plus also the still-awesome Danny Sugerman book, Wonderland Avenue. That shit had me writing Doors quotes all over my textbook covers and in yearbook signings for sure,y’all. Lizard King, Jesus H. Shatner with long locks, leather pants and a hairless chest … oi.
And with the exception of “People Are Strange,” which is truly a cool weird awesome little song, the music … ugh. Blow City, USA.
Thus has it been written, so let it be told across the land.
Morrison was immortalized first by death at 27 and then by three generations of college kids who needed a poster to cover up a creepy-looking stain in their dorm room. That voice plus thirty pounds of extra flab wouldn’t have gotten Jim Morrison past the cattle-call round of “American Idol.”
And I laaaaaaaaaughed and laughed and laughed. Because y’all, Jim Morrison is the most jive frontman of the most jive band ever (Buddyhead says that title actually goes to Courtney Taylor of the Dandy Warhols, but in this instance and ONLY in this instance, they are wrong. I love the Dandy Warhols. Suck it, Buddyhead!).
I had my Morrison/Doors phase. If you are a straight female, a gay male, or a nascent music person of any gender or orientation, you had your Morrison/Doors phase too. Some of you may still be in yours, and for that, I’m sorry (unless you’re still fifteen, in which case you’ll get over it I hope, or you’re coming out of a lifetime of repression in some weird religious subculture, in which case you just go ahead and do what you need to do, old kid old sock).
Mine coincided with the release of the Doors movie (which my friend Lebowski was an extra in! woo!), and that only fueled the fire. The stupid, stupid fire. Plus also the still-awesome Danny Sugerman book, Wonderland Avenue. That shit had me writing Doors quotes all over my textbook covers and in yearbook signings for sure,y’all. Lizard King, Jesus H. Shatner with long locks, leather pants and a hairless chest … oi.
And with the exception of “People Are Strange,” which is truly a cool weird awesome little song, the music … ugh. Blow City, USA.
Thus has it been written, so let it be told across the land.
Labels: balls in YOUR mouth sir, cryin' amazacrazy, demoralizing confessions, indefensible positions, merging with the infinite, things that sound great but really aren’t once you think about them
posted by Gleemonex at 10:23 AM
4 Comments:
So does this mean we can never play our Nuge "Stranglehold" into "L.A. Woman" back into "Stranglehold" medley again?
Oh, no -- that's still on the setlist! Nuge is jive, too, and I never said jive can't be fun!
I've always been a big fan of the keyboard portions of Doors music, but beyond that, I did leave my Morrison/Doors phase quite some time ago.
However, my Burl Ives phase will never die. That's right, I said it. Burl. Fucking. Ives.
I could never get into the Doors. I gave it my all...had a friend who had numerous albums, and we indulged. And my HS speech coach had a serious love affair with Jim Morrison('s poetry). So I can't be faulted for lack of exposure.
But it all stuck to me like maple syrup dripping off an oil-covered spoon. (How's about that for a weird visual?) Never could figure out the sex appeal of Morrison, either.
Oh, and that Sugerman book? Only parts I remember are a hilariously understated ejaculation scene and a truly frightening shoot-up scene that still makes me cringe years later. But it made for an interesting summer read, not to mention some seriously quizzical looks from the parents.
Maybe drugs were the missing link between me and the Doors. We may never know now.
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