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  • Bands I've Seen Live [Part 3, 2nd ed.]: Blue Cheer at The 1968 Pop Festival

    28 aug 2006, 16:30 av emergingsynergy

    I guess I will stay with the theme for a while, i.e., the bands I heard at The 1968 Pop Festival, at Gulfstream Park near Miami, Florida. This was a two-day affair, but the second day was, for the most part, rained out. Blue Cheer appeared on the afternoon of May 18.

    I still have a poster from the event, that I have saved since getting it free at the door. It has a psychedelic picture of The Jimi Hendrix Experience, with, embedded in Jimi's hair, the words "a Joint Production" [which we snickered at, as smoking a "joint" may well have been the idea]. The only other words on the poster, other than the dates, were, "The 1968 Pop Festival. The Jimi Hendrix Experience. Gulfstream Park." I think I still have my ticket stub somewhere, too; or maybe a whole ticket because they gave some out as "rain checks" during the second day.

    I was 16 years old at the time, in high school in Ft. Lauderdale. I attended both days [and ended up hitchhiking home, as I stayed through the rain while everyone I knew left, and I am glad I did but more on that later].

    One of the highlights of the festival was a daytime performance by Blue Cheer. My buddies and I had great seats, near the front; and the sound, and the weather, and the scene was fantastic. We were very excited to see them, even though they were named after a laundry detergent ["get the new, blue, CHEER!!"].

    We had listened over and over to the power of Vincebus Eruptum and Summertime Blues was getting airplay on the late night, progressive radio shows. We knew they were great at changing the meaning of "covering" a song: They enveloped it! Just compare their misspelled Parchment Farm to the original Parchman Farm by the jazz great, Mose Allison and you'll how they re-worked that as much as they did Eddie Cochran's classic Summertime Blues. Psychedelic!!!

    But first, was their appearance: I was struck by how young they looked. They looked our age, or maybe just a year or two older! There were three of them, three guys. And their hair! At this time in South Florida, we didn't see too many guys with hair THAT long! It seemed half way down to the waist. And of course they had on bell bottoms, big ones as I recall it, but their clothes were not part of their show.

    It is perhaps worth noting that this Festival came at a time of transition, early in that time, for us would-be "hippie radical psychedelic" youngsters. Things, trends, seemed to take hold in California first; and make their way... For example, pot usage in my 1969 high school graduating class was very rare, maybe about 10% max [not to say that most of the rest of those grads didn't go off to college and join the crowd!]. Yet the graduating class right behind us, the Class of '70, had a pot-tasting rate of probably 40%. So, May 1968 was right at transition time for the youth culture there. Blue Cheer was the ultimate California, cutting edge band.

    So, seeing those guys in Blue Cheer, our age with hair seemingly to their waists when they bent over their guitars and drums, made our eyes bug out. [It was still the case that us guys couldn't go through high school graduation, in '69, if our hair was so long it touched our collars.]

    Then there was the sound and the gear! Just as we were focusing on the sight, they turned on the amps. They had a wall of amps behind them, stacked, one on top of the other. And when they turned them on: white noise, hiss, power, POWER. omg

    That band was louder than any of the others, for sure, and that included the phenomenal The Jimi Hendrix Experience!

    And they were great.

    Their hit, Summer Time Blues: fantastic; and Parchment Farm, wow! We were blown away with all encompassing mind-and-body penetrating sound. I remember that they there was very little flash or movement: just hard, loud, mind-bending psychedelia!

    I could have listened to them all day and night, if I had the stamina, and I still could!

    I recently saw the again, all these years later, in a small venue in Tallahassee, Florida. They put on a great show! Even though the crowd was too small, the band played hard and with enthusiasm. They were very friendly to the crowd, and I got to speak to the lead singer, Dickie Peterson, before they took the stage. He remembered the 1968 show, and told me a funny story about a little run-in that Jimi Hendrix had with Arthur Brown there. I can tell you that, as of the time I just saw them, Blue Cheer is still the original band members and they still get it on!

    It was at this recent show that I learned more about the term, "stoner rock." I was the only person at the show my age, and when it was clear that I knew the band some of the fans came up to speak to me: They told me that this was "stoner rock," and I should look more into that.

    If you enjoyed this one, you might like some of my other journals. There are a number of journals about new artists, but I have also written about other live shows I saw as a teenager, such as The Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Doors, Cream, Uriah Heep, and the truly crazy Crazy World of Arthur Brown.
  • Jim Morrison: Ten Years Gone (by Lizze James - Creem Magazine, 1981)

    14 jul 2010, 15:39 av tegularius

    UNEDITED INTERVIEW SEGMENT:

    Lizzie: I think fans of The Doors see you as a savior, the leader who'll set them all free. How do you feel about that?

    Jim: It's absurd. How can I set free anyone who doesn't have the guts to stand up alone and declare his own freedom? I think it's a lie – people claim they want to be free – everybody insists that freedom is what they want the most, the most sacred and precious thing a man can possess. But that's bullshit! People are terrified to be set free – they hold on to their chains. They fight anyone who tries to break those chains. It's their security…How can they expect me or anyone else to set them free if they don't really want to be free?

    Lizzie: Why do you think people fear freedom?

    Jim: I think people resist freedom because they're afraid of the unknown. But it's ironic…That unknown was once very well known. It's where our souls belong…The only solution is to confront them – confront yourself – with the greatest fear imaginable. Expose yourself to your deepest fear. After that, fear has no power, and fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.

    Lizzie: What do you mean when you say "freedom"?

    Jim: There are different kinds of freedom – there's a lot of misunderstanding….The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your senses for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large scale revolution until there's a personal revolution, on an individual level. It's got to happen inside first. ….You can take away a man's political freedom and you won't hurt him – unless you take away his freedom to feel. That can destroy him.

    Lizzie: But how can anyone else have the power to take away from
    your freedom to feel?

    Jim: Some people surrender their freedom willingly – but others are forced to surrender it. Imprisonment begins with birth. Society, parents – they refuse to allow you to keep the freedom you are born with. There are subtle ways to punish a person for daring to feel. You see that everyone around you has destroyed his true feeling nature. You imitate what you see.

    Lizzie: Are you saying that we are, in effect, brought up to defend and perpetuate a society that deprives people of the freedom to feel?

    Jim: Sure….teachers, religious leaders – even friends, or so called friends – take over where parents leave off. They demand that we feel only the feelings they want and expect from us. They demand all the time that we perform feelings for them. We're like actors – turned loose in this world to wander in search of a phantom…endlessly searching for a half-forgotten shadow of our lost reality. When others demand that we become the people they want us to be, they force us to destroy the person we really are. It's a subtle kind of murder….the most loving parents and relatives commit this murder with smiles on their faces.

    Lizzie: Do you think it's possible for an individual to free himself from these repressive forces on his own – all alone?

    Jim: That kind of freedom can't be granted. Nobody can win it for you. You have to do it on your own. If you look to somebody else to do it for you – somebody outside yourself – you're still depending on others. You're still vulnerable to those repressive, evil outside forces, too.

    Lizzie: But isn't it possible for people who want that freedom to unite – to combine their strength, maybe just to strengthen each other? It must be possible.

    Jim: Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself – and especially to feel. Or not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to – letting a person be what he really is….Most people love you for who you pretend to be….To keep their love, you keep pretending – performing. You get to love your pretense…It's true, we're locked in an image, an act – and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image – they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it – they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession.

    Lizzie: It's ironic – it's sad. Can't they see that what you're trying to show them is the way to freedom?

    Jim: Most people have no idea what they're missing. Our society places a supreme value on control – hiding what you feel. Our culture mocks "primitive cultures" and prides itself on suppression of natural instincts and impulses.

    Lizzie: In some of your poetry, you openly admire and praise primitive people – Indians, for instance. Do you mean that it's not human beings in general but our particular society that's flawed and destructive?

    Jim: Look at how other cultures live – peacefully, in harmony with the earth, the forest – animals. They don't build war machines and invest millions of dollars in attacking other countries who political ideals don't happen to agree with their own.

    Lizzie: We live in a sick society.

    Jim: It's true….and part of the disease is not being aware that we're diseased….Our society has too much – too much to hold on to, and value – freedom ends up at the bottom of the list.

    Lizzie: But isn't there something an artist can do? If you didn't feel you, as an artist, could accomplish something, how could you go on?

    Jim: I offer images – I conjure memories of freedom that can still be reached – like the Doors, right? But we can only open the doors – we can't drag people through. I can't free them unless they want to be free – more than anything else….Maybe primitive people have less bullshit to let go of, to give up. A person has to be willing to give up everything – not just wealth. All the bullshit he's been taught – all society's brainwashing. You have to let go of all that to get to the other side. Most people aren't willing to do that.

    Lizzie: In your early, first album, stuff, there's a definite feeling of an apocalyptic vision – "break on through"- a transcendence. Do you see this as a still existing possibility?

    Jim: It's different now. (Pause) It used to seem possible to generate a movement – people rising up and joining together in mass protest – refusing to be repressed any longer – like, they'd all put their strength together to break what Blake calls "the mind-forged manacles."…..The love-street times are dead. Sure, it's possible for there to be a transcendence – but not on a mass level, not a universal rebellion. Now it has to take place on an individual level – every man for himself, as they say. Save yourself. Violence isn't always evil. What's evil is the infatuation with violence.

    Lizzie: What causes that?

    Jim: If natural energy and impulses are too severely suppressed for too long, they become violent. It's natural for something that's been held under pressure to become violent in it's release…a person who is too severely suppressed experiences so much pleasure in those violent releases…they're probably rare and brief. So he becomes infatuated with violence.

    Lizzie: But then – the real source of evil isn't the violence – or the infatuation with it – but the repressive forces.

    Jim: That's true – but in some cases, a person's infatuation with violence involves a secret complicity with his oppressors. People seek tyrants. They worship and support them. They co-operate with restrictions and rules, and they become enchanted with the violence involved in their brief, token rebellions.

    Lizzie: But why is that?

    Jim: Tradition, maybe – the sins of the fathers. America was conceived in violence. Americans are attracted to violence. They attach themselves to processed violence, out of cans. They're TV - hypnotized – TV is the invisible protective shield against bare reality. Twentieth-century culture's disease is the inability to feel their reality. People cluster to TV, soap operas, movie, theatre, pop idols, and they have wild emotion over symbols. But in reality of their own lives, they're emotionally dead.

    Lizzie: But why? What makes us run away from our own feeling?

    Jim: We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.

    Lizzie: I don't really understand.

    Jim: Pain is meant to wake us up. People try and hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. (Pause) Pain is a feeling – your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.

    Lizzie: Do you still see yourself as the shaman? I mean, lots of Doors fanatics look to you to lead them to salvation. Do you accept that role?

    Jim: I'm not sure it's salvation that people are after, or want me to lead them to. The shaman is a healer – like a witch-doctor. I don't see people turning to me for that. I don't see myself as a savior.

    Lizzie: What do you see them turning to you for, then?

    Jim: The shaman is similar to the scapegoat. I see the role of the artist as shaman and scapegoat. People project their fantasies onto him and their fantasies by destroying him. I obey the impulses everyone has, but won't admit to. By attacking me, punishing me, they can feel relieved of those impulses.

    Lizzie: Is that what you meant before, about people having a lot of wild emotions over symbols – pop idols for instance?

    Jim: That's right. People are afraid of themselves – or their own reality – their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel?

    Lizzie: Is that why you said, "My only friend, the End"…..?

    Jim: Sometimes the pain is too much to examine, or even tolerate….That doesn't make it evil, though – or necessarily dangerous. But people fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah – I guess it is a friend…..

    Lizzie: People see sex as the great liberator – the ultimate freedom. Aren't a lot of your songs pointing the way to freedom through sex?

    Jim: Sex can be a liberation. But it an also be an entrapment.

    Lizzie: What makes the difference?

    Jim: It's all a question of how much a person listens to his body – his feelings. Most people are too battered with rules to be heard, and bound with pretenses so it can hardly move. We cripple ourselves with lies.

    Lizzie: How can we break through the rules and lies?

    Jim: By listening to your body – opening up your senses. Blake said that the body as the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the "windows of the soul." When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience….

    Lizzie: In some of your songs, you present sex as an escape – a refuge of sanctuary – like "Crystal Ship" or "Soft Parade" of "Soul Kitchen." I've always been fascinated by the way your lyrics suggest parallels between sex and death – "Moonlight Drive" is a beautiful example. But isn't this an ultimate rejection of the body?

    Jim: Not at all – it's the opposite. If you reject your body, it becomes your prison cell. It's a paradox – to transcend the limitations of the body, you have to immerse yourself in it – you have to be totally open to your senses….It isn't so easy to accept your body totally – we're taught that the body is something to control, dominate – natural processes like pissing and shitting are considered dirty….Puritanical attitudes die slowly. How can sex be a liberation if you don't really want to touch your body – if you're trying to escape from it?


    INTERVIEW SEGMENT II:

    Jim [Morrison] said, "I think people resist freedom because they're afraid of the unknown. But that unknown was once very well known - its where our souls belong. The only solution is to confront them - confront yourself - with the greatest fear imaginable. Expose yourself to your deepest fear. After that, fear has no power, and fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You ARE free."

    I asked what he meant by "freedom."

    He said, "The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade your senses for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large-scale revolution until there's a personal revolution, on an individual level. It's got to happen inside first. You can take away a man's political freedom and you won't hurt him - unless you take away his freedom to feel. That can destroy him." I needed to understand how anyone could have the power to take away the freedom to feel.

    Jim explained patiently, "Some people surrender that freedom willingly - but others are forced to surrender it. Imprisonment begins with birth. Society - parents - they refuse to allow you to keep the freedom you are born with. There are subtle ways to punish a person for daring to feel. You see that everyone around you has destroyed his true, feeling nature. You imitate what you see. Our culture mocks 'primitive cultures' and prides itself on suppression of natural instincts and impulses."

    Over the sound system at the Garden Spot came the just released Beatles' Come Together - Jim was listening. "I like that song," he said.

    We went back to the blue Shelby and he looked through the L.A. Times for a movie.

    I asked a ponderous question: "Jim, does civilization have to be sacrificed to reclaim our freedom?"

    "What is civilization?" he asked.

    "City life, technology, habits, behavior, social rules, institutions, all of that."

    "How important is `all that' to you? Is it more or less important to you than your freedom? If it's less important, then you can leave it alone. If it's more important, then you have to destroy it. By yourself - for yourself. Each person for himself. If you want your true self to survive. [...]

    Jim was a master at holding his liquor. After seven or eight boilermakers (whisky shots with beer chasers) he was smooth, even, self-contained, articulate. But desensitized, no. If you looked closely, or brushed his consciousness with a slightest touch, there was that psyche like an exposed nerve, his raw, bare awareness, that nothing could muffle or shelter or insinuate.
    [...]

    Jim said. "Americans are attached to violence. They attach themselves to processed violence, out of cans. They're TV-hypnotized. TV is the invisible protective shield against bare reality. Twentieth Century culture's disease is the inability to feel the reality. People cluster to TV, soap operas, movies, theatre, pop idols, and they have wild emotions over symbols, but in the reality of their own lives, they're emotionally dead."[...]

    One thing Jim taught me that I never lost is to forget or dismiss shame over suffering, and in the same way, to fight fear of pain.
    "Pain is meant to wake us up," he said, that night. "People try to hide their pain, but they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters." [...]

    I am sure I was an anomaly among groupies, in beguiling him to spend so much of our time through the night talking, and playing with, of all things, his sexual philosophy.

    "Sex is full of lies," he said. "The body tries to tell the truth, but it's usually too battered with rules to be heard, and bound with pretenses so it can hardly move. We cripple ourselves with lies."

    But he was like a captive performing tiger, never quite tamed, never safe to turn your back on: at any moment could come the surprise lashing out of the big paw full of claws. He could be tender and funny and in the next instant, arrogant and mean.

    At one point, I told him, "You look like a Greek god." He shook his head, laughing with the bashfulness and insecurity of any ordinary guy. Between Waiting For The Sun and the day I closed the door of the ivy-netted house in King's Canyon, I talked with him, drank with him, spent nights with him, but most of all, took a moonlight dive into the "wet forests" and blue deeps of his mind.

    Because my admiration for him stretched beyond carnality and beyond rock-star fixation into an overwhelming interest in the man's words, his ideas, his written and sung poetry, I found something more. He would astonish me with delight and with pain, and surprise me anew each time he gave me a chilling glimpse of his loneliness.

    At three or five in the morning, sometimes, he called and said, "Come and get me. Come and take me away…" as though it was some winged denizen of heaven he had dialed. [...]
    He was surrounded by an ever-present, teeming collection of buddies, gofers, groupies, associates and hangers-on. But when I said that I wanted to be his friend, he put his arm around me in quick acceptance, thanking me with feeling in his voice that I seriously recognized to be nothing other than need.

    After he was gone, I was sorry about nothing except that I hadn't given him more. For what I did give. which was to plunge my greedy curiosity and eagerness into his mind in thirst for his ideas, had seemed to me no gift at all. But it was clear that it had seemed so to him, because he gave me so much in return - desperately careful in his explanations. only because he saw my craving to understand. [...]

    "The shaman is similar to the scapegoat," he said, as we walked through the rain on La Cienega and leaned inside a doorway against the wall, watching the cars crawl past. "I see the role of the artist as shaman and scapegoat. People project their fantasies onto him and their fantasies come alive. People can destroy their fantasies, by destroying him. I obey the impulses everyone has, but won't admit to. By attacking me, punishing me, they can feel relieved of those impulses."
    "Isn't that what you meant about people having a lot of wild emotion over symbols - pop idols, for instance?" I asked.

    "That's right. People are afraid of themselves - of their own reality - their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's all bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel?"

    "Is that why you said, `my only friend, the End?"

    "It's strange that people fear death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend."

    We started walking back. The rain was coming harder, and we were lightly dressed. But the session break was over and he had to be back at the studio. It would be a long night.

    Copyright ©2004-2208 by Lizze James /Waiting-forthe-Sun.net.
    source: http://archives.waiting-forthe-sun.net/Pages/Interviews/JimInterviews/TenYearsGone.html

    Jim Morrison The Doors
  • R.I.P Jim Morrison

    20 mar 2008, 01:50 av marsaday

    I am currently reading the biography of Jim Morrison. It has been a great journey for me,to have been able to read all about his experiences,with the Doors,Pamela Courson,his pretty muses and affairs,his two arrests,his horny devil attitude on stage,and his antics about free war,freedom in general,drugs and his adventures ect. This is a greet red for The Doors obsessed fans......Mars
  • Bands I Have Seen Live [Part 7]: The Doors in Miami, FL, March 1, 1969

    29 nov 2006, 03:12 av emergingsynergy

    I saw The Doors, and I saw them on March 1, 1969, at Dinner Key Auditorium in Miami, Florida. The reason I know the date is because it turned out to be one of the most famous rock concerts in history, "The Miami Incident" that hugely damaged The Doors and brought, for one of too many times, the Wrath of the Righteous down on Youth Culture and all that we were fomenting. It was, as it turned out, a "debacle" for The Doors.

    But for me, I was just a high school student in Ft. Lauderdale, trying to take care of myself and have a good time. I loved the cutting edge, psychedelic music of the day, and was very curious of the emerging culture it represented. I owned three records, LP's, but no record player. One of those was the self-titled The Doors.

    For me, those days were long ago. But I loved The Doors. They were associated, in some inexplicable way, with everything that seemed to be going on with "us." For example, I don't think I will ever forget my detailed memory of walking into a "head shop" for the first time, and it was back then, before this gig. The music they were playing? Soul Kitchen. It might have been the first time I ever heard that favorite of songs. At the very same moment, I had my first experience of incense, except in church; and, with that song still pumping, I saw, for the first time, black-light posters, psychedelic posters that seemed to pulsate. So grasp this: scent, sight.... and that song.... "speak in secret alphabet..."

    I was working a loading dock, either on Spring Break or a weekend, when a school mate and good friend called and asked me if I wanted to go see The Doors. He had two tickets, and he had a new car [I had none]. It was an hour drive..... I couldn't believe he asked me!

    I will also never forget the drive to the show. I had never been on the new stretch of Interstate Highway, and there were brightly-colored reflectors along the lane markers, and little traffic. I had not seen those reflectors before, either; and I felt like I was in an airplane, maybe landing at a futuristic airport; or that we were somehow cruising in the future world. My friend was driving his new GTO, and it had a cool set of dash lights. We flew low. We felt good, and excited.

    Now, my memory of this show is not history: ah... "What is History?" I once tried to read a book of that title, in college... My memory is what I remember, and I must caution the reader that this a memory of something that happened long ago, as remembered by a witness who was under the influence of youth, excitement, perhaps fear and confusion, and who knows what else. This is not "history."

    I remember that we sat on the floor, a concrete floor. We were maybe 30 or 40 yards from the stage.

    The concert began.... now I am going to describe the memories, but I am going to leave out repetitive "as I recall" statements.

    During the first song, Jim Morrison invited or helped up some girls, just a few, up onto the stage; and then he and they hugged and hugged together, a nice "group hug" .... This was during Light My Fire. But then a cop came up to them and spoke to Jim, and he pulled back from the girls and spoke to them, and they got down off the stage. The cop withdrew to stand along the back wall, at the back of the stage. Then Jim explained to the audience, by using a mock voice of authority and clearly quoting the cop: "No one on the stage but the band." He said it over and over, and as he did so, he turned and pointed at the cops, who were on the stage at the back, saying the same thing: "NO ONE on the stage but the band." And he methodically pointed to each of the cops standing at the back and by the stairs, on the stage: commanding, "NO ONE!!" And they obeyed him! They, like the audience members, left the stage and only the band was left on the stage.

    Then started another song. Now, he was charged and tried for crimes allegedly committed that night, on that stage. And to me he tried to start a riot. But I admit, too, that I was "beside myself" with amazement and, well, I was just stunned and felt like I had stumbled into a bizarre world of intensity.... but what else is new!! :) I remember it that he did try to start a riot.... but I supported him later...

    He spoke to us in a way that was laying the groundwork: He gripped the microphone, full body, and told us, in his wonderful voice, solemnly, that he "came to Miami to lay on the beach and play with his toes in the sand." He said he did "not come to Miami to start a RIot." He exaggerated his speech, spoke slowly with his always-precise, and studied, diction, "I did not come to Miami to start a RI-ot."

    It was, to me, psychedelic at this point, already.... Something was strange.....

    Then came the power song, When the Music's Over. We knew the lyrics. We knew:

    Before I sink into the big sleep
    I want to hear
    I want to hear
    The scream of the butterfly

    Come back, baby
    Back into my arms

    We're getting tired of hangin' around
    Waitin' around
    With our heads to the ground

    I hear a very gentle sound
    Very near
    Yet very far
    Very soft
    Yet very clear
    Come today
    Come today

    What have they done to the earth?
    What have they done to our fair sister?

    Ravaged and plundered
    And ripped her
    And bit her
    Stuck her with knives
    In the side of the dawn
    And tied her with fences
    And dragged her down


    We felt that in our guts. "They" had in fact done that to the earth, to OUR Earth. We knew what must come next.....what must be said, what we must demand!

    But he teased us..... We knew what we had to want... We knew the ensuing lyric, we wanted him to sing it, to proclaim it, for us!

    I hear a very gentle sound
    With your ear down to the ground—


    We waited, our ears to the ground... but nothing....

    He teased....

    He asked US! "What do we want?" "What do we want?" We knew.

    It was our turn! We had to demand it! We gave him the mere lyric and the demand of each generation and age, it is hoped. We demanded it! We called out, we yelled, we cried:

    The World! The World!

    Admittedly, we were a little uneasy, or at least I was.... The place was electric in intensity. All were standing up...

    Jim moved ahead.... he told us why he came "to Miami."

    "I didn't come to Miami to lay around in the sun. . . . to play with my toes in the sand. I came to Miami to start a riot."

    Now, maybe he didn't say that. It has been a long time. But I remember it as well today as I did the following day... And I remember it that way....

    Then he called out, in clear and direct defiance of the order that there be "No one on the stage but the band." He called out for us, all thousands of us perhaps, to "come on up!" He asked all of us who wanted to, to come up on the stage. And people did, fans went up, and a "group hug" ensued. There were no police on the stage. Then there were: They were not going to stand by and not allow themselves to be provoked! Out came the cops.

    Then... this is true... I doubted my own memory for a long time until I found a picture of it, but Jim slipped out of the spotlight and returned carrying a live lamb!

    Oh . . . the song? Remember, they were playing "When the Musics Over." Well... now the house lights came on and there were cops all over the stage and Jim was wandering around with a lamb! And he had just said he wanted to start a riot, I think!

    We are all standing up and, want to or not, we were pressing forward. I could have lifted my feet off of the floor and still stood up and would still have moved with the flow: so there was probably a bit of fear, there, too.

    So the lights were on. The band played on, playing some instrumental, fast paced something.

    Then I saw Jim near the front of the stage, at the front, right corner. And he seemed to, well, have his hand where it might afford him a bit of temporary pleasure . . . . And he faced us and looked that way...

    And the promoters and cops wanted the band, and Jim, to stop. So they started pushing the wall of amplifiers, behind the band, over. They--the authorities--started pushing the amps over!

    One of the promoters, an owner of Thee Image described in another of these journals, was later said to have a belt in Karate'. I don't know about that, but he came at Jim and Jim ran to the corner of the stage and he did "his thing." And then this gentleman came up to Jim and suddenly and rather skillfully flipped him into the audience. We were so compressed together that, thankfully, Jim did not hit the concrete floor.

    Later, as I may have reported elsewhere, I was "on Larry King" talking about this.

    * * * *

    I enrolled as a student in a university just a couple of years ago, and I took several classes. One time, I wanted to look someone up on Facebook, and, well, I ended up creating a fictional Facebook page for Jim Morrison to log in with. He was actually an alumnus of this university. This was his first avatar on Facebook:



    It grew into a huge, nationally connected tribute page to Jim--until Facebook authorities killed it; and in developing it I accumulated a lot of information. I want to share some of the quotes I collected, of his. Here are some actual Jim Morrison quotes that I laid out in a creative sequence, as his "about me" on Facebook:

    You could say it's an accident that I was ideally suited for the work I am doing. It's the feeling of a bowstring being pulled back for 22 years and suddenly being let go. I am primarily an American, second, a Californian, third, a Los Angeles resident. I've always been attracted to ideas that were about revolt against authority. I like ideas about the breaking away or overthrowing of established order. I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos - especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom - external revolt is a way to bring about internal freedom. Rather than starting inside, I start outside - reach the mental through the physical. I am a Sagittarian - if astrology has anything to do with it - the Centaur - the Archer - the Hunt - But the main thing is that we are The Doors.

    I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human with the soul of a clown, which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.

    I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps "Oh look at that!" Then - whoosh, and I'm gone... and they'll never see anything like it ever again, and they won't be able to forget me - ever.

    The first time I discovered death... me and my mother and father, and my grandmother and grandfather, were driving through the desert at dawn. A truckload of Indians had either hit another car or something- there were Indians scattered all over the highway, bleeding to death. I was just a kid, so I had to stay in the car while my father and grandfather went to check it out. I didn't see nothing- all I saw was funny red paint and people lying around, but I knew something was happening, because I could dig the vibrations of the people around me, and all of a sudden I realized that they didn't know what was happening any more than I did. That was the first time I tasted fear... and I do think, at that moment, the souls of those dead Indians- maybe one or two of them-were just running around, freaking out, and just landed in my soul, and I was like a sponge, ready to sit there and absorb it.

    The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.

    Our society places a supreme value on control, on hiding what you feel. It mocks primitive culture and prides itself on the suppression of natural instincts and impulses.

    Sex is full of lies. The body tries to tell the truth. But, it's usually too battered with rules to be heard, and bound with pretenses so it can hardly move. We cripple ourselves with lies.

    Pain is something to carry, like a radio.
    You feel your strength in the experience of pain.
    It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters.
    Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you.
    Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality.

    Naked we come and bruised we go.

    Just because you play a role in a movie, doesn't mean you're that person.

    Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.

    Some call it heavenly in its brilliance
    Others mean and rueful of the Western dream
    I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft
    We have constructed pyramids in honor of our escaping
    This is the land where the Pharaoh died

    For seven years I dwelt in the loose palace of exile
    playing strange games with the girls of the island
    now I have come again
    to the land of the fair and the strong and the wise
    brothers and sisters of the pale forest
    children of night
    who among you will run with the hunt?

    We have assembled inside this ancient
    & insane theater
    To propagate our lust for life
    & flee the swarming wisdom
    Of the streets

    Rage in the darkness by my side
    Seize the summer in your pride
    Take the winter in your stride
    Let's ride

    Is everybody in?

    Let's swim out tonight love
    It's our turn to try

    My beautiful friend....

    You reach your hand to hold me
    But I can't be your guide.

    For the music is your special friend
    Dance on fire as it intends
    Music is your only friend
    Until the end
    Until the end
    Until the end

    We will meet again
    Hello, I love you


    Isn't it amazing?


    I believe only a very few people will read this far. If you are one of them, you owe it to yourself to watch a certain video. But only do so when you have 13 minutes to concentrate on this Psychodrama that was The Doors. If you have that, play this at full screen and at high volume. And do this: focus on EACH member of the band, and also on the individuals in the audience. I think you might just be amazed with this performance art, with this live, intimate rendition of "The End"

    Rock-history or Doors affectioniados will want to try this amazing ten-second sound clip. It won't work if your iTunes, or maybe other audio programs, are playing anything [regardless of volume]. But you can maybe hear Jim inciting us, and calling us to "Come on up" onto the stage with him.

    peace
    bill

    PS: If you found this interesting, you might like some of my other journals. I've written journals about a number about other live shows I saw as a teenager. Here are links to my experiences at concerts by The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, Blue Cheer, Uriah Heep, and the truly crazy Crazy World of Arthur Brown.



  • Doors Songs from A to Z

    24 apr 2006, 07:57 av MistahBomsh

    Jeah i'm like a "Alphabetic Lunatic" xD


    A Alabama Song
    B Break on Through
    C The Crystal Ship
    D Do It
    E The End
    F Five to One
    G Gloria
    H Hyacinth House
    I Indian Summer
    J -
    K -
    L LA Woman
    M Moonlight Drive
    N Not to Touch the Earth
    O Orange County Suite
    P Peace Frog
    Q Queen of the Highway
    R Roadhouse Blues
    S Spanish Caravan
    T Touch Me
    U Unknown Soldier
    V -
    W Wintertime Love
    X -
    Y Yes, the River Knows
    Z -

    It's very hard to do such a chart, beeing a big fan of the doors.. Great songs like "Cars Hiss By My Window", "Crawling King Snake", "Light My Fire", "Love Me Two Times", "Love Street", "Riders On The Storm", "Soul Kitchen", "When The Musics Over", "Woman is a devil", can't be mentioned. Well, just mentioned them anyway lol