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Sunday, March 21, 2004





When I got home from work this evening I decided to watch the Doors. Actually, I watched the movie just to listen to the music. After the movie was over I turned on Strange Days. Strange Days progressed to Soft Parade which is now nearing its end. I think Morrison Hotel is next and I will end it all simply with The Doors.

Jesus, their music is so good, so sexual, so sensual. It inspires me to fight, to fuck, to drown, to surf, to breath, to sleep all at the same time. The dynamics of their music is so mind blowing, so omni-present that it fills me with inspired neurotic energy. One minute the band is very soft. John Densmore's percussion is quieter than drizzling rain, Ray Manzarek' s keyboard is smoother than silk, the guitar lines by Robby Kriegar are more ethereal than the wind, and Jim Morrison crones a crone that would make Sinatra envious.

And then it changes. Sometimes it is a slow crescendo into what seems like forever. Sometimes it is an abrupt torrent of sound, like a wave gently cresting then gathering tumultuos speed and crashing down upon the ocean floor in a moment of finality. Morrison's croon disolves and disillusionment and disenchanment poison his voice. Kriegar's etheral riffs metamorphasize into a those of a haunted beast. The keyboard, once lulling and melodic is overpowered by frenzied energy as Kriegar plays seemingly possessed. And Densmore's percussion, and Densmore's percussion! AND DENSMORE'S PERCUSIION!

Needless to say I am once again infatuated with the Doors.


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