Enclose Me in Your Gentle Rain

This Monday, Ray Manzarek died. Those who have known me awhile will not be surprised that I was affected by this news, as the music of The Doors was hardwired into me sometime during junior high. I do not remember anymore how I first heard The Doors; it was probably something as simple as songs played on the radio. I know that it was not through the Oliver Stone movie, which I did not see until after my obsession formed. (Not even all the gratuitous naked women in the world could convince my adolescent mind that Stone's film was anything other than an overindulgent mess). I was already listening to some "classic" rock, mostly Led Zeppelin with a smattering of Hendrix tossed in the mix. Icons like The Beatles or Dylan would only strike me later as an adult. No, it was The Doors that truly captured my attention and never let it go.

Yet, why The Doors? What set them apart? The obvious answer would be Jim Morrison with his haunting voice and dark, evocative lyrics. He appealed to both sides of my young self with declarations of idealistic triumph, vision of youth cleansing the world, followed by dire confessions that "no one here gets out alive." And, of course, rather famously, he did not. Even at my most distressed, I had no desire to die young but that did not make myth any less powerful.

There was more to the band than simply Morrison, and, in retrospect I think that is what made the vital difference: they sounded like nothing else I had heard. Musically, they were distinct from the other rock groups of their day, indeed, nearly five decades later, I can think of few artists who directly mimic their style. This distinction is in no small part due to Manzarek. The Kinks might have sprinkled a bit of harpsichord into their songs, but retained a jingle that fit smoothly into the traditional chords of a rock band. Manzarek's organ was something else, something more complex. His playing was more brooding as well as spirited. In such a manner, it matched not only Morrison's voice, but those of Robby Krieger and John Densmore, creating a very strong sense of interplay among all the participants. In fact, the group often interacts more like a jazz combo than a rock band. The most famous example of this is their brilliant extended instrumental bridge in "Light My Fire," but it is also present rhroughout their recordings, such as:


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jq9IhOhQt40

Morrison is quoted as saying that without Manzarek there would have been no Doors, and he was right. After all, it was a chance encounter with Manzarek that resulted in the birth of the group. However, more than that, without Manzarek at his organ, The Doors would not have sounded as they did, they would have been a different band. This is not meant to slight any of his band mates; they all made their own unique contribution. Together they created something firmly rooted in time and place (channeling both the bright euphoria and the bloody tragedy of their day), but also surpassed it.  

Incidentally, as I have been thinking about Manzarek these past days, I have noticed how, over the years, I have developed quite a taste for the electric organ. For example, I have long had a fondness for the jazz organ of Jimmy Smiths. In addition, I wonder if it is any coincidence that, once I did discover Dylan, my favorite album of his would be Blonde on Blonde, and one of my favorite songs, the wonderfully organ-suffused "Stuck in Mobile . . ."? Further legacy of Mr. Manzarek, it would seem.

Rest in Peace, Ray Manzarek.  

Praying to the Wind

Sometimes a piece of music may speak to you of a particular time & place even if it had been recorded decades prior, even if you already possessed an established relationship with the piece of music. You hear the lyrics, you feel their meaning and are able to relate them to your own circumstances. Such was the case with me and "We Came Through" in the days following the attacks of September 11.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgnUX7kBD9s&feature=results_main&playnext=1&list=PLC981C1A0BBE1C331

"We Came Through" was written and recorded by Scott Walker for his 1969 album, Scott 3. I have long held Walker in high regard as one of my favorite musicians, as well as being fond of "We Came Through" as an outstanding song from a record full of stellar tracks. My own interrpretation of the song is that within it, Walker is taking stock of his historical moment, examining the state of the world. What he sees is not encouraging, painting a vision filled with war & flames, dead heroes & expired hopes. What has been accomplished, what has been purchased with all this sorrow? Not much. The singer can merely claim that "we came through." That is his generation's great achievement: we survived it all.

Or "salute the men who died for freedom's sake [but] we won't dream, for they don't come true for us, not anymore. They've run far away to hide in caves, with haggard burning eyes. Their icy voices tear our hearts like knives."

Listening to these lyrics in the days after September 11, I gained new associations that ten years later, I am still unable to shake whenever I hear the song. In the immediate aftermath of the day's events, those "icy voices" hiding out in caves, cutting through us like knives took on fresh faces. As the shadows of the attacks grew longer, as I myself grew more pessimistic, the more strongly I felt as though Walker's words could relate to my own historical moment. Witnessing yet again "our kings and countries raise their shields . . . as Luther King's predictions fade from view" I would be left wondering often during the years ahead if all that my generation could claim for our own time was simply that we had survived it as well. 

There's one other song that I associate with that day, but, in a more positive light. When eventually it grew late, and the time came to switch off the TV and attempt to sleep, I needed something to clear my mind of all the horrible images of the day. I reached for music, as that is what most reliably sooths my spirits, something of beauty to remind me of the good things that people can produce, the happiness that we can spread instead of hate. In this instance, I chose John Coltrane:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hugIRAe2yvw

Peace, everyone.

Spread Your Wings & Fly

On May 7th, the singer/musician John Walker (born John Maus) passed away. Not a household name, on this side of the Atlantic at any rate, he was one-third of a trio of young, unrelated Americans, who banded together, rechristened themselves in London and achieved a level of pop fame often compared to the heights of their fab contemporaries from Liverpool. (Beatles' fans were either better behaved, or their objects of affection hired superior security, as Walker Brother concerts were known to be aborted after a song or two due to an inability to keep the screaming gals off of the stage). Working within the pop styles of their day, the trio's signature sound was filled with swooning, lush melodies, belted out amidst the ever popular "wall of sound."  After three albums, they splintered into divergent solo careers, crossed paths again for a reunion (which produced, numerology geeks take note, another three albums), before drifting off in separate directions yet again . . .

I first came to the group several years ago through my love of the solo work of Scott Walker, who sung the lead vocals on the majority of the group's recordings. Scott Walker is one my favorite musicians, whose work I am continuously returning to for both comfort and inspiration. His presence dominates the trio, yet, John's contribution, singing the harmonies, should not be ignored. In addition, he did receive a handful of solo songs, which demonstrate a talent for singing in his own right. My personal favorite of these tracks is his rendition of "Blueberry Hill", which does not appear to be available on youtube. So instead, I'll offer a clip that I received from a friend yesterday with the news of John's death:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-LEv9KIDtkY

Now returning briefly to those Liverpool Lads, I have been told that George Harrison's difficulties with his group grew out of having to share the stage with both a Lennon and a McCarthy. Without the presence of that pair of dominating personalities, Harrison may have more naturally shifted into the central focus -- on the other hand, it may have been that sense of competition, which motivated him to become a stronger artist in the first place. Might the same be said of John Walker, who was the original lead vocalist of the trio until a Scott song shot up the charts? Perhaps. Regardless, he was a talented singer, who shall be missed.

Rest in Peace, John Walker