Post by Admin on Nov 7, 2023 10:04:44 GMT
The Doors Unhinged and Jim Morrison’s Legacy
We were seduced by the allure of corporate money and Jim wanted to smash a Buick to smithereens.
www.truthdig.com/articles/the-doors-unhinged-and-jim-morrisons-legacy/
The following is an adapted excerpt from The Doors Unhinged: Jim Morrison’s Legacy Goes on Trial by John Densmore, which will be published November 7th, 2023 by Akashic Books.
“Fuck you!” Jim Morrison yelled.
His outburst shocked the rest of us. It was 1968, we were on a break from rehearsing, and Jim had never raised his voice at us like that before.
“Fuck you guys!” he repeated. “I thought it was supposed to be all for one and one for all. I thought we were supposed to be brothers!”
“Jim, we are, man!” Ray responded meekly. “Nothing has changed.”
“Everything has fucking changed, Ray!” Jim said. “Everything!”
“Why?” Ray asked. “I don’t understand. Just because we signed a contract to get a load of money for a fucking song in a Buick commercial . . . why has everything changed?”
Jim spoke from a deeply wounded place, pulling a knife out that he felt we had stabbed into the band’s unspoken mission statement:
A band of musicians (warriors) who used musical notes instead of arrows, and always aimed for the listener’s heart.
In Ray’s autobiography, he described this next comment as Jim stabbing The Doors in our collective heart:
“Because I can’t trust you anymore,” Jim snapped. “It’s fucking industry! It’s corporate! It’s the devil, you asshole. We always agreed that our music would never be used in commercials. You guys just made a pact with the devil.”
Robby got defensive: “The hell we did.”
“Oh yes you did, Robby. He shows you what you want and then he puts a little twist in it. Makes you say yes to him when you know you shouldn’t . . .” Jim was pacing. “But you go along with it because the deal’s just too good. It tastes too good.” He stopped and stared at our keyboard player. “It’s too much money, isn’t it, Ray?”
Ray’s fur arched up along his back. “Fuck you, Jim.”
“I know you, Ray,” Jim said. “You’re only in it for the money.”
Ray retaliated: “I just wanna make music. And if we can make some money at it . . . that’s cool with me.”
Ray was trying to smooth things over, but his feeble attempt at “fathering” was failing. In his book, he described Jim during this period as “over the top, gone,” while he described himself as “trying to maintain the dream” ($?), hoping Jim would snap out of this phase he was in. Hoping that it was a phase. A momentary aberration. Hoping that Jim would come to his senses and we could resume our grail quest together (for more $?). The four of us. The Doors.
“Lots of money,” Jim mumbled loud enough so we all could hear.
“What’d you say?” Ray responded.
“You heard me.”
Robby tried breaking the tension: “Well, it’s too late.”
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that.” Jim upped the ante: “I’m gonna smash a fucking Buick to dust onstage. It’s gonna be part of my new act. ‘Smash a Buick to Smithereens.’ We’ll see how they like that. And then I’m gonna get Abe [our attorney] to sue their asses. For big fucking bucks, Ray. For a lot more than their shitty little contract. Then let’s see if they still want to use a Doors song to sell a sports car.”
Jim grabbed the phone on the spot and called our lawyers. “Threaten them with a lawsuit!” he bellowed into the receiver. “Tell them I’m gonna smash a Buick with a sledgehammer onstage! Tell them anything! But stop the fucking contract!”
We were seduced by the allure of corporate money and Jim wanted to smash a Buick to smithereens.
www.truthdig.com/articles/the-doors-unhinged-and-jim-morrisons-legacy/
The following is an adapted excerpt from The Doors Unhinged: Jim Morrison’s Legacy Goes on Trial by John Densmore, which will be published November 7th, 2023 by Akashic Books.
“Fuck you!” Jim Morrison yelled.
His outburst shocked the rest of us. It was 1968, we were on a break from rehearsing, and Jim had never raised his voice at us like that before.
“Fuck you guys!” he repeated. “I thought it was supposed to be all for one and one for all. I thought we were supposed to be brothers!”
“Jim, we are, man!” Ray responded meekly. “Nothing has changed.”
“Everything has fucking changed, Ray!” Jim said. “Everything!”
“Why?” Ray asked. “I don’t understand. Just because we signed a contract to get a load of money for a fucking song in a Buick commercial . . . why has everything changed?”
Jim spoke from a deeply wounded place, pulling a knife out that he felt we had stabbed into the band’s unspoken mission statement:
A band of musicians (warriors) who used musical notes instead of arrows, and always aimed for the listener’s heart.
In Ray’s autobiography, he described this next comment as Jim stabbing The Doors in our collective heart:
“Because I can’t trust you anymore,” Jim snapped. “It’s fucking industry! It’s corporate! It’s the devil, you asshole. We always agreed that our music would never be used in commercials. You guys just made a pact with the devil.”
Robby got defensive: “The hell we did.”
“Oh yes you did, Robby. He shows you what you want and then he puts a little twist in it. Makes you say yes to him when you know you shouldn’t . . .” Jim was pacing. “But you go along with it because the deal’s just too good. It tastes too good.” He stopped and stared at our keyboard player. “It’s too much money, isn’t it, Ray?”
Ray’s fur arched up along his back. “Fuck you, Jim.”
“I know you, Ray,” Jim said. “You’re only in it for the money.”
Ray retaliated: “I just wanna make music. And if we can make some money at it . . . that’s cool with me.”
Ray was trying to smooth things over, but his feeble attempt at “fathering” was failing. In his book, he described Jim during this period as “over the top, gone,” while he described himself as “trying to maintain the dream” ($?), hoping Jim would snap out of this phase he was in. Hoping that it was a phase. A momentary aberration. Hoping that Jim would come to his senses and we could resume our grail quest together (for more $?). The four of us. The Doors.
“Lots of money,” Jim mumbled loud enough so we all could hear.
“What’d you say?” Ray responded.
“You heard me.”
Robby tried breaking the tension: “Well, it’s too late.”
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that.” Jim upped the ante: “I’m gonna smash a fucking Buick to dust onstage. It’s gonna be part of my new act. ‘Smash a Buick to Smithereens.’ We’ll see how they like that. And then I’m gonna get Abe [our attorney] to sue their asses. For big fucking bucks, Ray. For a lot more than their shitty little contract. Then let’s see if they still want to use a Doors song to sell a sports car.”
Jim grabbed the phone on the spot and called our lawyers. “Threaten them with a lawsuit!” he bellowed into the receiver. “Tell them I’m gonna smash a Buick with a sledgehammer onstage! Tell them anything! But stop the fucking contract!”