"Some get the awful-awful diseases," sang Warren Zevon, who was soon rewarded with a hideous form of cancer. Living a lot longer was Ray Manzarek, best known as the guy who diddled the spindly opening keyboard solo on "Light My Fire," before the so-called "Lizard King" did his Geico-like commercial for, what, safety matches or something.
As you can tell, I'm not a huge fan of The Doors. They had maybe three hits, and I haven't listened to any of them in years. Not intentionally. Mr. King (oh, why be so formal, I'll call him "Liz") was a personality. He always will be. For one song, he's like Elvis. You can't look away. After that, and if the song isn't any good, you just think, "Who's this guy fooling?" This is why stars like that die young from drugs or alcohol...they're living a bullshit lie. There's nobody home inside the funny outfit they wear on stage. They're playing a game that only leads to boredom and contempt for those who play along with them.
Well, Liz died a long time ago. Various puppy-dog wanna-be-hippies can't get over this because they weren't there. Aw, all they can do is go to a forum and act like bobble-head dolls, telling everyone how super-groovy-cool The Doors albums and the rest of the stuff in granny's attic is...from the computer in mommy's basement. All they can do is use the lingo (although "peace out" betrays their true age and mentality) and throw FREE DOWNLOAD files around, preventing some 60's artists who didn't have Doors-level hits from getting the extra royalties they could use.
Aside from dweebish 20-somethings who missed it and see glamour in hippie rebellion (as long as the protest can be done alone on a computer without risk), Liz still resonates among the hippie-go-yuppie merry-go-round of pretentious twats who stopped taking drugs not long after the unholy three dropped dead (Jimi, Janis as well as Liz) but secretly remember "those days" with (ugh) NOSTALGIA. So their idea of a turn-on is buying some ultra-expensive box set on The Doors from some company confident the old rich yuppies can help them make enough money to offset what they lose on the little red hippies with their blogs and forum posts and their clueless notions of anarchy (which only involve stealing music, not, let's say, stealing a bag of groceries from Tesco to give to homeless or poor people in their neighborhood).
The Doors was basically Liz, but there was also Ray, who at least played an instrument. The others? Who the fuck really cares. Listen to "Light My Fart," or whatever it's called, and you've got the facts right there. There's a guy singing. There's a guy playing keyboard. The rest of what goes on in that song (or any other Doors song) is not too profound. Oh, maybe a lead guitar bit here and there is ok, but not that special. That the Doors never went anywhere once Liz died is also a fact that is beyond dispute. But that's just the way it is.
It would be poor taste (and as Spike Milligan would say, there's a LOT of it about) to go on about how mildly disgusted I, or others, might be over the continued hype and legend of The Doors. The fact here is that a lot of people are gutted (exactly like semi-polluted river fish, which leads to nausea rather than frying them up to eat) over Ray's passing. They can be gutted. Just don't eat it. Ray was 74, which is old by today's standard, considering all the new and lethal viruses around, all the new ways to get killed by religious fanatics and gun-nuts, and how everything gives you cancer and now it can't simply be avoided by not billowing cigarette smoke into your lungs.
Ray died, let's remember, of fuckin' BILE DUCT CANCER. You don't want to know the details. My sympathies are with his family and my hopes are that he did have enough royalty money to pay for all the medication and treatment he needed. Meaning, let's hope that unlike the average rocker from that era, like Kenny Edwards...all the money wasn't spent very quickly on hospital care.
Some Doors fans instantly have the knee-jerk response, "Oh, it's not so terrible, I'M alive, I can listen to DOORS music, and JOHN is still alive..."
Right. John. The drummer. Didn't we all listen to The Doors for the GREAT DRUMMING? What's his last name...Dinsdale? Dinsdale hasn't been a factor, musically, since Liz pickled himself in Paris, but he haunted the world for decades with the notion that if HIS royal terms are met, The Doors might still get back together. To do what? Nobody gave a damn when the 3 remaining planks put out a few "Doors" album, which quickly went into the bargain bin. And they moved on (with Ray actually forming other bands, and taking more musical risks, and having the better resume of the three). Meanwhile, as the years went on, a small bunch of whining backward-looking drugged up idiots and newbie 20-something losers kept crying about having a re-union even without the prime player, Mr. Liz, the girly-lipped wonder. A person that frankly makes me nauseous to look at in all his simpering publicity photos. Most normal people got used to the fact that in a weird mood, they might still get a weird vibe off a weirdo singing about how STRANGE people are. Good enough.
Does any sane person really want to imagine Liz still on stage, baby faced, plump-lipped, dark-haired even though middle-aged, and singing "Light My Fire?" I hardly want to see old footage of him! Not being a girl, not being a homo, and not being on LSD, I never found it too appealing to see that solemn, tongue-dribbling soft spoken seducer drool out his icky lyrics that suggested cunnilingus first, and a bang up the asshole with date-rape ferocity a few moments later. Think about it. First he's all sweaty with his pick-up lines and his Poetry 101 babble about funeral pyres, then he turns into Screaming Lord Fudge, a total asshole, wanting to set the night, (and the girl's anus) on FIRE.
Let poor Liz (along with the great Jimi and Janis) exist in that sad soap bubble of tear-producing myopic nostalgia. Oooh, "Light My Fire." Oooh, fuck-a-fying the National Anthem on guitar, ooh, screeching about Bobby McGee. What a waste. What a waste. Rock and roll don't...
Don't forget. Don't just listen to the music. Read the books.
Dinsdale's still haunting the world with his hippie-dippie notions about music being "free" while he flogs his book.
And that, patient reader, is the real reason for THIS piece.
I was going to post it after I saw that idiot on Tavis Smiley's show, but poor Ray's death sealed the deal. I say Poor Ray, because all I know really, is he died of a horrible disease, and he didn't suddenly turn up on talk shows with a book and a lot of boring shit about how noble he is.
While Ray was "battling" his disease (this isn't a fair fight, folks), Dinsdale was hawking his book and congratulating himself for being on the oh-so-righteously left side of the great "music shouldn't be commercial, we are ARTISTES" notion.
To give you an idea of how seriously the tacky little fanatic fan-tacks are (fan-tacks being the ones who keep nailing The Doors up to the pedestal, which impedes the rest of us from moving along with our lives), here's some utter twaddle and drool from an Amazon page comment on Dinsdale's book. As you'd expect, he got raves from so many die-hard (please, just DIE) Doors fans:
"Two weeks ago,I went to a John Densmore book- signing...I had purchased my wrist band that would allow me entrance several weeks earlier and kept my pre-order receipt for the book.I arrived two hours before the scheduled....
Already, you know this is an acid-casualty dimwit with plenty of time and no brains.
"...I joined the line that had already started at 4:30 with my copy of the book in my hand and ended up being the twenty-first person to enter through the back door of the store to get the book signed...I was directed to a table where a store employee numbered my book and then motioned forward to the table John was sitting at...."
You do get the idea that this was the highlight of this jerk's life. I've already edited out a LOT of detail.
"....I handed him the book and thanked him for writing it and keeping the music as most important (I'd read half the book while waiting on the line). Then I told him I hoped my integrity would last as long as his. He then said to me,"It's people like you who who keep me strong." As tears welled-up in my eyes...We smiled at each other and I then turned to my left and walked over to another store employee who cut my wristband off to ensure I wouldn't return to the line to see John again,understandable as the line was very long...."
Jesus Christ. Dinsdale is NOT Jesus. It just seems that way in this sniveling, pious account of how Mecca is actually a bookstore in New Jersey where an old hippie is hawking a book. Let's cut to how Dinsdale the Drummer turns out to be some kind of beacon of light in this oh-so-commercial world:
".....Regarding this book, it is so honest,so genuine,so inspiring as to be ,at times,overwhelming in representing how deeply the ideals of the 60s touched one person so deeply as to have him endure so much emotional and physical sacrifice so it would continue to live,and corporate greed would not,the antithesis of those ideals.That his fellow bandmate,Ray Manzarek,didn't get,or care,what his lead singer was about is tragic...justice can triumph if one is willing to stand up and fight for it,which John did,the Morrison estate by his side(when they had the choice not to be) all the way.I wondered ,as I read of the false accusations and character assassinations leveled continuously at him,how John could have continued to wake each morning,drive to the courthouse and deal with what was said about and to him.The testimony when Manzarek is on the stand is not-to-be-believed and must have been completely gut wrenching for John...To have a book like this in this day and age of Wall Street thievery and Republican self-service and cruelty...and greed...is a beacon of hope and honesty in a world that continues to grow short concerning such.The first chapter alone will blow your mind,and give you all you will ever need as to knowing who Jim Morrison really was.How blessed we were for his being in our lives.And for John Densmore."
And there you are. Hype and smoke and mirrors. I admit, I am so NOT a fan of these guys, I have no idea how much of a dick Ray Manzarek may have been. I just have a feeling Dinsdale is more of the cunt. I don't even recall which stupid song the fight was about, but The Doors were just a fairly shitty psych band that had a few hit songs. Definite classics. You just have trouble naming more than two or three, which is pretty much the same problem with most rock bands anyway. Go name three great Animals hits. Anyway, The Doors had simple-minded and boorish notions about how to pick up chicks ("hello, how are you..."). They appealed to gullible guys who dreamed about being on a "crystal ship" taking lots of drugs and looking pensively toward Nirvana or Atlantis. Or the bra-less hippie chick who cast her droopy eyes in disdain after hearing, "I got ALL The Doors albums and some bootlegs. Wanna light up a doobie with me and listen?" And The Doors also appealed to both the psych-druggies and the good old fashioned whiskey bar drunks. Pick your poison and light your fire!
Having principles is a good thing. NO, I have not forgotten that Liz refused to alter his lyrics to get on Ed Sullivan's show. Mick Jagger did. But come on. Not everything has to be a fucking fight.
Who was more pig-headed, John or Ray? Or is that even the point now. Poor Doors fans with no lives and nothing else to think about in the past 20 years, kept mourning about not having the chance to throw more bad "it's not the same without Liz" albums into the bargain bin, as they did with the first few non-Liz albums that had Ray and Robby doing the singing. As they did with the fake Badfinger records propelled into the stores by a SURVIVING DRUMMER.
I happened to see Dinsdale on an embarrassing Tavis Smiley show, which you can probably watch on Hulu or on Smiley's website. Although at the end of the half-hour he was bashing an Indian (oh, excuse me, NATIVE AMERICAN) wicker basket of some kind, and chanting some hippie-dippie mantra, most of the time, Dinsdale wasn't giving away free music. Dinsdale was mewling about how bad it is for artists to be COMMERCIAL, and how art somehow is so DIFFERENT and so much more noble, and so therefore should not involve money. Or a lot of it. Or taking money from people you don't respect.
Like, tell me, Dinsdale, you really respected the suits at Elektra, or your managers, or the average business-man-cum-weasel who owned the venue that you guys played? Were these guys not the same kind of capitalists as the ones asking to use a Doors song for an ad? You Fuckhead. You were always part of the system, man, you just chose to make Madison Avenue the gate of hell...not the record company office you strolled into to collect your giant paycheck. Not the publicist's office you visited to check your paid-for press clippings. Not the radio station greased with payola and promises to produce you for an interview in return for booking others on the same label. Fuckhead.
Dinsdale's so proud of how The Doors broke apart with “commercialism” one of the main sticking points? HE didn’t want one of their stupid songs used in a commercial. Two others did...and drummer boy wasn’t budging when the bid went from five million to ten million. And I think to 15 million. He explained to Tavis Smiley that the Doors were somehow some kind of Utopian uber-group that had sussed out equality, which meant that if ONE of the four didn't go along, fuck it. He said that he told Ray and the other hold-out, “You’re all comfortable. What do you need the extra money for?”
And host Tavis Smiley sagely nodded his head, like this was pure gospel. Pure gold. Pure logic. Not pure horse shit.
Hey, schmuck, you don't need an extra five million dollars? Not even to GIVE AWAY? Hey Mr. Utopia, why not take that corporate five million and hand it to 5,000 struggling musicians, or starving kids, or to fans in a refund for high ticket prices? You can't change the world? The government? "The Man?" Then you can stick it to him in some other way, like taking as big a chunk of his money as you can, and doing some GOOD with it!
Tavis Smiley, either being a good host, or forgetting he's an interviewer, didn't stand up for Ray Manzarek (who was busy, you see, fighting CANCER) or others who believe Capitalism is a pretty good system (any of you want to move to China or Russia?) Instead, he muttered that “Stevie Wonder’s legacy has been tainted by too many of his songs being used in commercials. I know I’d get an argument if I called him on that!” Well, Tavis, you wouldn't get any argument if you wrote it down and put it in front of him, no.
Fine, Tavis. You know Stevie Wonder. Now, that “legacy” again. What IS that legacy? How would a piece of shit like “My Cherie Amour” be tainted if it was used in the background for 1-800-Flowers, or even for Cherry Cola?
Instead of being reasonable to any degree (like, maybe a lesser Doors song might be ok for a product the band members use and like) Dinsdale ends up with a "philosophy" as unyielding, stubborn and stupid as any Jihad-monkey's cries to Allah that involve blowing the legs off women and children. If you remember the hippies in their 60's prime...weren't a lot of them crashing together in one home they turned into a hovel just as stupid, stubborn, stuck-in-their-mantra PESTS as Christian fundamentalists living in the well-maintained house next door? Christ, even John Lennon ended up saying, "Flower Power didn't work. We'll try something else." Like, try listening and compromising. Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on?? Not EVERY rock song is up there with "Ave Maria." We all have heard rock songs used in ads, and some of these ads were pretty good. If you pick the right song and right product, so the fuck what.
Worse, Dinsdale defended not only any notion of trying to work together as people (instead of being stubborn), ignored the fact that his hippie-dippie philosophies didn't get the band back together (not that anyone would've wanted to hear them without Liz), and instead trumpeted more wet air about how musicians have this GIFT and it should be SHARED, and it can get TAINTED by money.
What’s wrong with getting paid for your creativity? Joni Mitchell didn’t stand on a street corner “playin’ real good for free.” She wasn't willing to have a day job and go play for dollar bills in a park. She wanted to reach MILLIONS OF PEOPLE. You do that by involving business men and corporations and managers.
Dinsdale's entire career is the result of commercialism. The money in his bank account got there because of Capitalism, not some little red hippie bullshit of giving it all away. That he helped wreck Doors re-unions for a bunch of needy hapless brain-fried psych-nostalgists is too bad. I haven't read the book, don't really care what Manzarek testified about...the point is, there are always shades of gray. Nothing is pure fucking black and white, not even a black and white movie, dig?
Dinsdale isn't giving his book away for free, is he? His publisher is making a profit, right? Even if Dinsdale is donating HIS royalties to charity, he's still being commmercial. He could've put his book up FREE as a blog. He could've made a website and posted photos and free tracks of him playing a tom-tom, and simply put a PAYPAL DONATION banner in the corner saying "Tip Jar." How come he didn't do that? Why didn't he GIVE AWAY HIS FUCKING BOOK? You "SHARE" don't you? You told Ray years ago he was "Comfortable" and had "enough money" to avoid commercialism. Dinsdale, why didn't you put your book out via PDF for all your sniveling fans, and if you felt like giving money to a charity, just do it from your DEEP DEEP pocket?
Tell me, Dinsdale, would you be shaking hands and wasting time with some retarded fan in New Jersey at a book signing, if he did NOT pay to buy your book? Wasn't PAYING a sign of respect? A show of worth? Putting his money where his mouthy mewlings were?
DINSDALE? DINSDALE! DINSDALE....
Why is that lumpy headed blob named Ceelo sticking his tongue out and laughing?
