I’ve been a Doors fan for some years now. I love the music, and I love Jim Morrison’s imagery and poetic vision.
His lyrics and the music of Manzarek, Krieger and Densmore complemented each other perfectly.
Ignoring the mythic Lizard King and Rock Shaman, and looking beyond his descent into a shambolic, alcoholic wreck, what we have left to digest are the songs and the poems. The Morrison we find in his words- spoken, written, sung. And yes, sometimes slurred.
Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings
Where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven’s claws
This is from Feast of Friends, one of the many recorded poems released as ‘An American Prayer.’
As a rock star who longed to be taken seriously as an artist, Jim Morrison v James Douglas Morrison, I will leave it up to you to make up your own mind. His poetry tends to polarise opinion. One man’s meat is another man’s poison, and I think this is especially true of poetry and music.
Meanwhile I will be having a longer than usual weekend break from City Jackdaw as I am off to London on Bank Holiday Monday and won’t be back until Wednesday, so until then try and keep those wings off your smooth shoulders if you can, and I will see you then. Have a good one.