“If the doors of perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is: infinite”
Poet, lyricist, and philosopher, Jim Morrison (supposedly) died this day in 1971. He leaves behind a legacy of music that has influenced countless artists and the path of rock music in general. A child of a navy officer, his nomadic experience growing up as well as the influences of beat poets and surrealist artists would provide this musical icon with the tools he would later use to stand the world on its ear for decades to come.
Known in passing to the masses by haunting organ music and perhaps a few lines of the chorus from Light My Fire, Jim Morrison actually started out studying theatre and, in fact, graduated from UCLA with a degree in the field, taking a special interest in the surrealist movement from the decades of his birth. Before a chance meeting with the other man that would help form The Doors, Ray Manzarek, Morrison had already begun producing several films, some of which have been finished posthumously. It wasn’t until after he graduated in 1965, that his interests turned more toward poetry and music as a form of expression for that poetry. Later that year, John Densmore and Robby Krieger would join the band as drummer and guitarist, respectively. This collaboration would, for the next six years, become renown for its cryptic and haunting messages and the seemingly architected deconstruction of the lead singer, Jim Morrison.
Within a year of forming, The Doors were the house band of Whisky-a-Go-Go, a veritable breeding ground of stellar rock music that helped propel the likes of Hendrix, Zappa and The Who. However, within a week of being discovered by Elektra Records, The Doors were fired for Morrison’s modernized literative of Oedipus Rex that he tagged on the end of, well, The End… “Father, I Want To Kill You… Mother, I Want To Fuck You”… This theme of unpredictable stage behavior was a recurrent theme that would mark his performances until his last. The Doors self-titled debut hit the market in 1966, and featured a music video (above) for Break On Through, which was actually directed by Morrison and Manzarek. But it wasn’t until the release of their next single, Light My Fire, that The Doors secured themselves as a rock staple, selling well over a million records and reaching #1 on the Billboard Charts.
Their second LP, Strange Days, carried on their penchant for creating rock symphonies and featured another lengthy and dramatic piece, When The Music’s Over. This album held another staple of classic rock, People Are Strange, and could also be considered the turning point for The Doors and Morrison - the music afterward becoming more mainstream and Morrison falling deeper into alcoholism and drug abuse, at times to the point where he would be rendered incapable of performing. The third album, Waiting for the Sun, was marred by riotous performances and debate over whether The Doors had exhausted their musical portfolio - at times accused of outright plagiarism. It was also for this album that The Doors began to tour Europe, where they would end up creating most of the music featured on their fourth album, The Soft Parade.
1970 saw a return to The Doors harder rock sound, with other classic rock anthems such as Roadhouse Blues and Indian Summer featured on the fifth album, Morrison Hotel. This was also the album that featured the almost complete breakdown of Morrison. It was during the tour for this album that the band decided Jim’s time in performance should close. At this point, he was prone to breaking equipment, walking out in the middle of concerts, arguing and at times fighting with his own audience.
The final CD from The Doors, LA Woman, provided a comeback of sorts - producing songs like Riders on the Storm and LA Woman, and would prove to be the final death knell of Morrison. Within months of the April recording, Morrison was found dead in a bathtub at his home in Paris. The cause of death has been widely speculated, due in no small part to the varied stories produced from his girlfriend who found him, Pamela Courson. He died of a heroin overdose, he died of a lengthy respiratory infection, he died in a bar and was drug back home… Whatever the reason, his face is emblazoned on walls and ceilings, in galleries and bars, t-shirts of kids harking back to the time of their parents and (much to the chagrin of anyone with a fucking iota of artistic integrity) soon to be on a shoe by Converse.
Despite the commercial success he has brought the family of his common-law wife, Pamela (Who, thank god, killed herself with a heroin overdose a couple years later — and believe me, they’re the ones responsible for how shamelessly an artist of his stature was turned into a posthumous commercial whore - I hope they choke on the coins), his artistic contributions to rock music will be felt in every dramatic chord and cryptic lyric for generations to come.
“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.”
-Jim Morrison
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