Johnathan and James

So John Lennon's still dead, and Jim Morrison was born on this day millions of years ago and managed to accidentally top himself in the bathtub at age 27.  Two rockers whose fans ascribe the word "genius" to in many circles.  I don't, though I do enjoy what both dudes did during their lifetimes.

I was only eight years old when Lennon died.  Having not yet gotten into his work or The Beatles', I can't say that it had any effect on me that I can recall.  The first time I can actually remember thinking about John's death was when "Nobody Told Me" was released posthumously on Milk and Honey.  I enjoyed the song a lot (still do) and remember hearing it in my mom's car on the radio one day and thinking to myself how Lennon was no longer around and what a shame it was.  No, the Lennon I "grew up with" in the '80s was Julian and his tunes on Valotte.  That brings back another memory of watching a special of his on Showtime or something at the time and him playing his dad's "Day Tripper" during a live segment and my mom commenting on the fact.

After getting into The Beatles in earnest during my middle school years, the first solo Lennon album I bought was Shaved Fish.  I remember buying it in some shitty record store in a mall down in Florida and the cashier looking at another cashier and going "Look at this...Shaved Fish?!" as if I was bringing back the bubonic plague or something.  Maybe it was because she had never heard of the album and thought it was a weird title, but I got the feeling she was chastising me.  It didn't matter.  I recall putting it in my Walkman for the first time and listening and thinking, "Man, John Lennon really liked echo on everything."

As for Jim Morrison and The Doors, I've always had a love/hate thing for him and the group.  I own all the band's albums featuring Morrison and absolutely love the L.A. Woman album.  But I've always cringed at how the fans - both young and old - just ascribe that whole "genius" tag to Jimbo.  I wouldn't deem any of his lyrical skills or drug and/or alcohol-infused bravado "genius," but these are the same people (at least the younger of the ilk) who say the same lame thing about Kurt Cobain. 

To me, Morrison was an entertainer who happened to be fronting this nice little rock combo.  Sure, he sung of darker themes and breaking on through and all that stuff, but it was the mid '60s, baby, and it was the newest thing under the sun.  I will say that I find The Doors' music to be the most enjoyable to come out of the west coast at that time, certainly much better than all the hippie nonsense wafting out of San Francisco at the time.  That whole peace and love trip seemed better served under Jim's death trip vibe than taken seriously as a recourse for society's ills.  Jim often threw the word bullshit around.  Was he aware of his own?  Maybe, but by the time his gut and beard had fully blossomed and his voice was a shadow of its former glory, The Doors became less mythological and more earthbound.  It started on Morrison Hotel and made its logical conclusion on the blues-drenched L.A. Woman.

I recently watched the new documentary on the band called When You're Strange and felt that it lacked the visceral action and groove of Oliver Stone's maligned The Doors.  Though the new film allows the story to be told through archival clips of the band, Stone's flick made the group all seem larger than life.  After seeing it, you couldn't help but want to hear some of the band's tracks and learn more, no matter how much of it was or wasn't sensationalized.  The new film just feels like a plain vanilla examination of the group.  The drama distilled into something less frenzied.

Anyway, another anniversary comes and goes for these two.  Lennon's work has all been remastered and reissued yet again, and The Doors had their groovy 40th Anniversary mixes issued not too long ago.  The music remains vital.  The messages contained therein may or may not be as urgent depending on who you are and where your tastes lie.  To me, "Imagine" was the apex of Lennon's naivete towards the whole "Peace, brother!" message he and Yoko had cultivated since 1968.  To millions of others, though, it remains a song of hope.  Personally, I always found tracks like "Mother" to be a little more convincing.