What were the Doors?
They were a “rock” group with a drummer who spent much of his time in bossa nova beats like the one in “Break on Through.” They were led by a guy who probably wasn’t much different than Charles Manson, who sought musical fame in California at the same time as the Doors were operating there. Except that while Manson and Morrison were both disturbed, fanatical, and convinced of their messianic charisma, one was an unsightly, untalented monster; one was an angelically beautiful, miraculously talented bad boy.
The Doors played music that wasn’t anything. It was just itself. I don’t want you to tell me anything else sounds “like” the Doors. That is an impossibility. It is either the Doors, or it is something that should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. How can one organ, one guitar, one drum set, and one voice come together in such an unforeseen, uncontrived, unprecedented way? How could they not only be musical curiosities but also convey ideas that aspire to Byronic romanticism? How can a group that played on Ed Sullivan have a band name that derives from “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell” by William Blake?
What was going on back then?
Listen to this song!!! What is happening here? Can we ever un-hear this universally known singing melody, the one-of-a-kind croon of Jim Morrison, RIP? Can we ever go back to our daily, clinically responsible selves knowing that organ solo is out there, weird and perfect and proud of itself despite all the dreary pressures and violences that perpetually emanate from our species? Can we sit still knowing we destroyed this band’s career because during one of their cathartic, euphoric, sprawling, uncharted live shows, where they would weave in and out of extended versions of numbers like “Break on Through," seeking only to goad and challenge the audience with the power of sound, somebody complained?
Sometimes question marks are not punctuation; they are symbols.