Os Doors foram a outra cara da gera��o Sgt Pepper's. Enquanto grupos como Beatles e a turma de S�o Francisco buscavam paz, amor e uma vida alternativa, os Doors apontavam para o lado do caos, da revolta. � frente de tudo estava Jim Morrison, o novo ap�stolo do rock, que entendia que os tempos eram perigosos e assassinos. Curiosamente, Morrison n�o tinha a pretens�o de ser cantor. N�o se interessava tanto por rock e via na m�sica apenas um meio para canalizar suas aspira��es po�ticas e art�sticas. O n�cleo dos Doors foi gerado em 1965, quando Morrison conheceu o tecladista Ray Manzarek, colega no curso de cinema da UCLA (um dos companheiros de classe da dupla era o futuro diretor de cinema Francis Ford Copola). Diz a lenda que a banda surgiu depois de Morrison recitar um trecho do poema Moonlight Drive para Manzarek. Em seguida vieram Robby Krieger, guitarrista com influ�ncias de m�sica flamenca, e John Densmore, baterista, baterista de t�cnica jazz�stica. Gravaram um demo, foram rejeitados por algumas gravadoras e pararam na Elektra, indicados por Arthur Lee, do Love. O primeiro �lbum saiu em janeiro de 1967 e se chamava apenas The Doors. Misturando doses de hedonismo, sexo e viol�ncia psicol�gica, o disco s� emplacou meses depois, quando a m�sica "Light my fire" foi lan�ada em uma vers�o editada em compacto. Mas a faixa de maior impacto foi "The End", uma verdadeira viagem de 11 minutos que tinha a imortal frase: "Pai, quero te matar / M�e, quero te foder". A m�sica se tornou uma das favoritas dos soldados no Vietn� - mais tarde "The End" foi aproveitada pelo diretor Francis Ford Coppola, em seu �pico sobre o Vietn�, Apocalipse Now. Os Doors eram a banda numero 1 da Am�rica e Jim Morrison, o maior s�mbolo sexual do rock desde Elvis Presley. Os shows eram ca�ticos, com Morrison provocando o p�blico e as autoridades. Em dezembro de 1967, ele foi preso por em pleno palco depois de ridicularizar um policial num show em New Haven. Criava casos em programas de TV e abusava da bebida e das drogas psicod�licas. Apesar de alguns cr�ticos acharem que o melhor momento do grupo foi o primeiro disco, os �lbuns Strange Days e Waiting For The Sun venderam bem e trouxeram v�rios cl�ssicos: "People Are Strange", "When The Music Is Over", "Hello, I Love You", "The Unknow Soldier"... Esta �ltima uma firme condena��o � guerra foi banida das r�dios. Morrison come�ou a ficar de saco cheio da vida de astro do rock e reclamava que as pessoas n�o ouviam o que ele tinha a dizer. Soltava suas frustra��es no palco, onde aprontava loucuras. Era um poeta perdido no mundo do rock. Cada vez mais queria deixar de lado as cal�as de couro, e ser reconhecido como um artista � n�o como um �dolo adolescente. Come�ou a descuidar da apar�ncia. Deixou crescer a barba e come�ou a ostentar um barrig�o. O disco seguinte, The Soft parade (1969), foi muito criticado por sua produ��o exagerada. Apesar das sabotagens de Morrison, o grupo continuava indo bem. Em 1969, foram vendidos antecipadamente todos os ingressos para um show no Madison Square Garden. Nesse per�odo, Morrison come�ou a frequentar os shows dos Living Theatre, uma trupe que permitia que as coisas mais escabrosas acontecessem no palco. O vocalista ficou t�o impressionado que resolveu usar algumas t�cnicas chocantes do theatre no pr�ximo show dos Doors, que aconteceria em Miami. O dia 1� de mar�o de 1969 nunca ser� esquecido pelos f�s dos Doors. Morrison iria cantar em Miami, um lugar que trazia para ele p�ssimas recorda��es e traumas. O local do show, chamado Dinner Key, acomodava no m�ximo 7 mil pessoas � e cerca de 13 mil se acotovelavam para ver o palco. O calor era insuport�vel e a banda demorou para entrar rm cena por causa de problemas com a organiza��o. Finalmente, quando o show come�ou, Morrison estava mais b�bado do que nunca. E ele n�o tinha nenhuma inten��o de cantar naquela noite. A cada tentativa da banda de tocar alguma m�sica, Morrison atacava a plat�ia, chamando-a de idiotas e escravos. Quando o grupo atacou "Touch Me", morrison ordenou que a plat�ia tirasse a roupa. Depois, berrou: "Voc�s s�o um bando de idiotas, suas faces est�o enfiadas na merda do mundo... querem ver meu pau?" O p�blico subiu no palco e destruiu tudo. At� hoje ningu�m sabe se realmente Morrison colocou seu membro para fora. O esc�ndalo foi t�o grande que os Doors foram banidos praticamente de todos os palcos dos EUA. Jim Morrison foi acusado de bebedeira, desordem e comportamento indecente. A tens�o da espera do julgamento fez com que ele afundasse cada vez mais. No final, acabou sendo condenado a sete meses de pris�o e pagou uma multa de 500 d�lares. Os advogados do cantor apelaram da senten�a. Logo depois da confus�o, os Doors lan�aram Morrison Hotel, uma volta ao blues. O disco foi um sucesso, mas os Doors viviam sob constante tens�o. Morrison passou a dedicar-se � sua amada poesia. Lan�ou alguns trabalhos que foram ignorados pelo p�blico e cr�tica. A banda gravou um �ltimo disco chamado L.A. Woman, com a voz de Morrison cada vez mais baleada. O cantor vivia em depress�o. Depos da morte de Jimi Hendrix e de Janis Joplin, ele comentou com alguns amigos: "Voc�s est�o bebendo com o n�mero tr�s". Morrison chegou � conclus�o de que em Los Angeles sempre seria visto como um astro do rock. Em mar�o de 1971, ele e sua esposa, Pamela Courson, rumaram para paris, onde buscava reencontrar inspira��o. Mas nada fez al�m de escrever notas de suic�do e encher a cara. No dia 4 de julho, Pamela achou Morrison morto na banheira do apartamento. Somente um m�dico viu o corpo e sua morte s� foi tornada p�blica depois que foienterrado em Paris. A causa oficial foi ataque card�aco, embora o comet�rio tenha sido de que ele morreu de overdose de hero�na � que vitimou Pamela tr�s anos depois. Os outros Doors tentaram prosseguir sem Morrison, mas depois de dois discos a banda encerrou as ativeidades. Nos anos 80 come�ou o culto com o lan�amento de v�deos, discos e at� um filme sobre a banda, dirigido por Oliver Stone. Recentemente os f�s se deliciaram com The Doors Box Set, uma caixa de quatro CDs com muito material in�dito. O que prova que o mito de Jim Morrison vai estar ainda por a� por muito tempo.

Nome Completo: James Douglas Morrison

Nascimento: 8 de Dezembro de 1943 (Melbourne, Florida)

Falecimento: 3 de Julho de 1971 (Paris, Fran�a)

Fun��es: Vocalista/Compositor

A carreia de Jim Morrison como estrela do rock pode ter come�ado em uma praia em Venice, mas o Morrison espiritual nasceu em uma estrada solitaria em um deserto quando era jovem. Morrison descreveu o incidente em "Peace Frog" (Morrison Hotel); "Indians scattered on Dawn's Highway bleeding, ghosts crowd the young child's fragile egg-shell mind." Os esp�ritos dos �ndios mortos sempre tomaram conta de Jim durante as performances dos The Doors e acabaram por apelidarem-no de "The Electric Shaman". O p�blico afirma ter "visto" o lado xam� de Morrison deixar seu corpo durante o concerto de Miami, no dia 1� de Mar�o de 1969. Aquele dia viria a alterar a rota do sucesso do The Doors.

Nome Completo: Raymond Daniel Manzarek

Nascimento: 12 de Fevereiro 1939 (Chicago, Illinois)

Fun��es: Tecladista/Vocalista

Ray Manzarek, fundador dos The Doors, � talvez o g�nio musical que juntou os talentos da banda. Uma das marcas registradas dos DOORS era o toque �nico de Manzarek no �rg�o...enquanto tocava o ritmo ao mesmo tempo ! Grace Slick (Jefferson Airplane) comentou certa vez (em show dos The Doors em Amsterdam) a respeito de Ray: Manzarek tocava seu �rg�o e cantava sem perder sequer uma "batida". At� ent�o, Ray era tido como o maior talento da banda, j� que Jim come�aria a despontar como �dolo naquele show

Nome Completo: John Paul Densmore

Nascimento: 1 de Dezembro de 1944 (Santa Monica, California)

Fun��es: Percussionista/Baterista John Densmore foi sempre estereotipado como "o bom p�-de-meia" dos The Doors. Muito de sua reputa��o � devido ao filme de Oliver Stone. Densmore � considerado o integrante da banda que mais ficou perturbado com o comportamento excessivo de Jim Morrison. Utilizava o talento para acentuar com a bateria cada toque de guitarra, teclado ou voz dos outros integrantes. Curiosamente, Krieger e Densmore mantinham uma conversa��o entre seus instrumentos durante os solos que executavam.

Nome Completo: Robert Alan Krieger

Nascimento: 8 de Janeiro de 1946 (Los Angeles, California)

Fun��es: Guitarrista/Vocalista/Compositor

Robby Krieger estudou com Sitarist Ravi Shankar. Esta influ�ncia pode ser ouvida em instrumentos indianos m�sicas como "The End", "Spanish Caravan" e outras. Robby foi um compositor essencial para a banda. S�o de sua autoria as can��es "Light My Fire" e "Touch Me". Krieger entrou na banda depois que o irm�o de Ray saiu. Um dos solos favoritos Robby Krieger ocorre na m�sica "When the Music's Over", de acordo com uma entrevista concedida por ele para a revista Guitar.

L.A. WOMAN

M�sicas :

THE CHANGELING - LOVE HER MADLY - BEEN DOWN SO LONG - CARS HISS BY MY WINDOW - L.A.WOMAN - L'AMERICA - HYACINTH HOUSE - CRAWLING KING SNAKE - THE WASP (TEXAS RADIO AND THE BIG BEAT) - RIDERS ON THE STORM.

MORRISON HOTEL

M�sicas :

ROADHOUSE BLUES - WAITING FOR THE SUN - YOU MAKE ME REAL - PEACE FROG - BLUE SUNDAY - SHIP OF FOOLS - LAND HO! - THE SPY - QUEEN OF THE HIGHWAY - INDIAN SUMMER - MAGGIE M'GILL.

THE SOFT PARADE

M�sicas :

TELL ALL THE PEOPLE - TOUCH ME - SHAMAN'S BLUES - DO IT - EASY RIDE - WILD CHILD - RUNNIN' BLUE - WISHFUL SINFUL - THE SOFT PARADE.

WAITING FOR THE SUN

M�sicas :

HELLO, I LOVE YOU - LOVE STREET - NOT TO TOUCH THE EARTH - SUMMER'S ALMOST GONE - WINTERTIME LOVE - THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER - SPANISH CARAVAN - MY WILD LOVE - WE COULD BE SO GOOD TOGETHER - YES, THE RIVER KNOWS - FIVE TO ONE.

STRANGE DAYS

M�sicas :

STRANGE DAYS - YOU'RE LOST LITTLE GIRL - LOVE ME TWO TIMES - UNHAPPY GIRL - HORSE LATITUDES - MOONLIGHT DRIVE - PEOPLE ARE STRANGE - MY EYES HAVE SEEN YOU - I CAN'T SEE YOUR FACE IN MY MIND - WHEN THE MUSIC'S OVER.

THE DOORS

M�sicas :

BREAK ON THROUGH - SOUL KITCHEN - THE CRYSTAL SHIP - TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX - ALABAMA SONG - LIGHT MY FIRE - BACK DOOR MAN - I LOOKED AT YOU - END OF THE NIGHT - TAKE IT AS IT COMES - THE END.

Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in?

The ceremony is about to begin. WAKE UP!

You can't remember where it was Has this dream stopped?

AWAKE Shake dreams from your hair My pretty child, my sweet one. Choose the day and choose the sign of your day The day's divinity First thing you see. A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon Couples naked race down by its quiet side And we laugh like soft, mad children Smug in the wooly cotton brains on infancy. The music and voices are all around us. Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones The time has come again. Choose now, they croon, Beneath the moon Beside an ancient lake. Enter again the sweet forest, Enter the hot dream, Come with us, Everything is broken up and dances. GHOST SONG Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind. "Me and my - mother and father - and a grandmother and a grandfather - were driving trhough the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of Indian workers had either hit another car, or just - I don't know what happened - but there were Indians scattered all over the highway, bleeding to death." "So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time I tasted fear. I musta' been about four - like a child is like a flower, his head is floating in the breeze, man." "The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back - is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead Indians... maybe one or two of 'em... were just running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul. And they're still in there. Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind. Indian, Indian what did you die for? Indian says, nothing at all. Gently they stir, gently rise. The dead are newborn awakening With ravaged limbs and wet souls, Gently they sigh in rapt funeral amazement. Who called these dead to dance? Was it the young woman learning to play the ghost song on her baby grand? Was it the wilderness children? Was it the ghost god himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly? I called you up to anoint the earth. I called you to announce sadness falling like burned skin. I called to wish you well, To glory in self like a new monster. And now I call on you to pray. A MILITARY STATION IN THE DESERT Can we resolve the past, Lurking jaws, joints of time? The Base To come of age in a dry place, Holes and caves. My friend drove an hour each day from the mountains. The bus gives you a hard-on with books in your lap. Someone shot the bird in the afternoon dance show. They gave out free records to the best couple. Spades dance best, from the hip. The music was new, black polished chrome And came over the summer like liquid night. The DJ's took pills to stay awake and play for seven days. They went to the studio and someone knew him; Someone knew the TV showman. He came to your homeroom party and played records And when he left in the hot noon sun and walked to his car, We saw the chooks had written F-U-C-K on his windshield He wiped it off with a white rag and smiling coolly drove away. He's rich. Got a big car. My gang will get you... Scenes of rape in the arroyo Seductions in cars, abandoned buildings. Fights at the food stand. The dust. The shoes. Open shirts and raised collars. Bright sculptured hair. Hey man, you want girls, pills, grass? C'mon... I show you good time. This place has everything. C'mon... I show you. Angels and sailors, rich girls, backyard fences, tents, Dreams watching each other narrowly, Soft luxuriant cars. Girls in garages, stripped out to get liquor and clothes, half gallons of wine and six packs of beer. Jumped, humped, born to suffer, made to undress in the wilderness. I will never treat you mean Never start no kind of scene I'll tell you every place and person that I've been Always a playground instructor, never a killer, Always a bridesmaid on the verge of fame or over, He maneuvered two girls in to his hotel room. One a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican. Poor boys thighs and buttocks scarred by a father's belt, She's trying to rise. Story of her boyfriend, of teenage stoned death games, Handsome lad, dead in a car. Confusion. No connections. Come 'ere. I love you. Peace on earth. Will you die for me? Eat me. This way. The end. I'll always be true Never go out, sneaking out on you, babe If only you'll show me Far Arden again. I'm surprised you could get it up. He whips her lightly, sardonically, with belt. Haven't I been through enough? she asks, Now dressed and leaving The Spanish girl begins to bleed; She says her period. It's Catholic heaven. I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck, My chest is hard and brown. Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin, We could plan a murder, Or start a religion. I'll tell you this... No eternal reward will forgive us now For wasting the dawn. Back in those days everything was simpler and more comfused. One summer night, going to the pier, I ran into two young girls. The blonde was called Freedom, The dark one, Enterprise. We talked and they told me this story: Now listen to this . . . I'll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat. Soft driven, slow and mad Like some new language, Reaching your hand with the cold, sudden fury of a divine messenger. Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of god, Wandering, wandering in hopeless night. Out here in the perimeter there are no stars, Out here we is stoned Immaculate. The movie will begin in five moments, The mindless voice announced, All those unseated will await the next show. We filed slowly, languidly into the hall. The auditorium was vast and silent. As we seated and darkened, the voice continued: The program for this evening is not new, You've seen this entertainment through and through. You've seen your birth, your life and death, You might recall all of the rest. Did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on? I'm getting out of here! Where are you going? To the other side of morning. Please don't chase the clouds, pagodas Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand. It's all right, all your friends are here. When can I meet them? After you've eaten. I'm not hungry. Uh, we meant beaten. Silvery stream, silvery scream Oooooh, impossible concentration. Curses, Invocations Weird bate-headed mongrels I keep expecting one of you to rise. Large buxom obese queens Garden hogs and cunt veterans Quaint cabbage saints Shit hoarders and individualists Drag strip officials Tight lipped losers and Lustfull fuck salesmen My militant dandies All strange order of monsters Hot on the trail of the woodvine We welcome you to our procession. Here come the Comedians Look at them smile Watch them dance an Indian mile. Look at them gesture How aplomb So to gesture everyone. Words dissemble Words be quick Words resemble walking sticks. Plant them they will grow Watch them waver so. I'll always be a word man Better than a bird man. ALL HAIL THE AMERICAN NIGHT! What was that? I don't know. Sounds like guns... thunder. Ladies and gentlemen! From Los Angeles, California... The Doors! ... Well I woke up this morning Got myself a beer Well, I woke up this morning Got myself a beer Well, the future's uncertain The end is always near . . . The World on Fire . . . Taxi from Africa . . . The Grand Hotel . . . He was drunk a big party last night back, going back in all directions sleeping these insane hours I'll never wake up in a good mood again I'm sick of these stinky boots. Lament for my cock Sore and crucified I seek to know you. Acquiring soulful wisdom, You can open walls of mystery, Stripshow. How to acquire death in the morning show. TV death which the child absorbs Deathwell mystery which makes me write Slow train, the death of my cock gives life. Forgive the poor old people who gave us entry taught us god in the child's prayer in the night. Guitar player, Ancient wise satyr, Sing you ode to my cock. Caress its lament, Stiffen and guide us, we frozen. Lost cells, The knowledge of cancer, To speak to the heart And give the great gift: Words Power Trance This stable friend and the beasts of his zoo, Wild haired chicks, Women flowery in their summit, Monsters of skin. Each color connects to create the boat which rocks the race. Could any hell be more horrible than now and real? I pressed her thigh and death smiled. Death, old friend, Death and my cock are the world. I can forgive my injuries in the name of Wisdom Luxury Romance Sentence upon sentence Words are healing lament For the death of my cock's spirit Has no meaning in the soft fire. Words got me the wound and will get me well, If you believe it. All join now and lament for the death of my cock A tongue of knowledge in the feathered night. Boys get crazy in the head and suffer, I sacrifice my cock on the altar of silence. Thoughts in time and out of season THE HITCHHIKER Stood by the side of the road And leveled his thumb In the calm calculus of reason Hi. How you doin'? I just got back into town. L.A. I was out on the desert for awhile. Riders on the storm Yeah. In the middle of it. Riders on the storm Right . . . Into this house we're born Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem. Into this world we're thrown When I was out on the desert, ya know, Like a dig without a bone An actor out on loan I don't know how to tell you, Riders on the storm but, ah, I killed somebody. There's a killer on the road No . . . His brain is squirming like a toad It's no big deal, ya know, I don't think anybody will find out about it, but . . . Take a long holiday just, ah . . . Let your children play this guy gave me a ride, and ah . . . If you give this man a ride started giving me a lot of trouble, Sweet family will die and I just couldn't take it, ya know? Killer on the road And I wasted him. Yeah. AN AMERICAN PRAYER Do you know the warm progress under the stars? Do you know we exist? Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom Have you been born yet & are you alive? Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests [Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war] We need great golden copulations The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest Our mother is dead in the sea Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals & that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood Do you know we are ruled by T.V. the moon is a dry blood beast Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying We live, we die & death not ends it Journey we more into the Nightmare Cling to life Our passion'd flower Cling to cunts & cocks of despair We got our final vision by clap Columbus' groin got filled w/ green death (I touched her thigh & death smiled) We have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre To propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets The barns are stormed The windows kept & only one of all the rest To dance & save us W/ the divine mockery of words Music inflames temperament (When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free a 1000 Magicians arise in the land) Where are the feasts we were promised Where is the wine The New Wine (dying on the vine) resident mockery give us an hour for magic We of the purple glove We of the starling flight & velvet hour We of arabic pleasure's breed We of sundome & the night Give us a creed To believe A night of Lust Give us trust in The Night Give of color hundred hues a rich mandala for me & you & for your silky pillowed house a head, wisdom & a bed Troubled decree Resident mockery has claimed thee We used to believe in the good old days We still receive In little ways The Things of Kindness & unsporting brow Forget & allow Did you know freedom exists in a school book Did you know madmen are running our prison w/in a jail, w/in a gaol w/in a white free protestant maelstrom We're perched headlong on the edge of boredom We're reaching for death on the end of a candle We're trying for something That's already found us Wow, I'm sick of doubt Live in the light of certain South Cruel bindings The servants have the power dog-men & their mean women pulling poor blankets over our sailors I'm sick of dour faces Staring at me from the T.V. Tower: I want roses in my garden bower; dig? Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted Strangers in the mud These mutants, blood-meal fro the plant that's plowed They are waiting to take us into the severed garden So you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws No more money, no more fancy dress This other Kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest & loose obedience to a vegetable law I will not go Prefer a Feast of Friends To the Giant Family

Entrevista com Ray Manzareck !

Um dos professores do Jim !