At work there was so much to do - a briefing from Jack,
emails to trawl through and meetings to attend – that at times I was able to
forget about “M”. However, there was
always another colleague enquiring about her state to jolt me back into
reality. Eventually, I took a moment to
have a cup of tea and scan The Age online.
There was another jolt of reality when I read that Ray Manzarek of The
Doors had died of cancer.
The Doors are one of those acts that evoke strong reactions
from people. Inevitably, those reactions
are not really about the musical merits of the band but more likely about the
cult of Jim Morrison. To me Morrison was
nothing more than the lead singer and key lyricist of the band. I’ve never bought into most of his lyrics and
have never regarded him as a great poet. It’s
nothing personal here, but I’ve never really developed an appreciation for
poetry, an art form I consider to be easily the most pretentious of them
all. If anything, many of Morrison’s
lyrics are true relics of the 60s containing words or phrases that immediately
date them today. Had he not died young,
Morrison’s literary abilities would today be regarded as little more than that
of a beatnik. Manazrek as Jim’s greatest
advocate, enabler and keeper of the flame, was always on hand to put up a
spirited defence on behalf of his friend.
But it is the music
of The Doors that has endured over the years and it was Manzarek as its musical
director that needs to take much of the credit.
He was responsible for the band’s true defining feature – its keyboard
sound – which allowed Robbie Krieger’s guitar and John Densmore’s drums to
flourish. By additionally taking
responsibility for the role traditionally undertaken by the bass guitar, he was
one of the first visionaries to challenge the basic singer – drums – guitar –
bass – keyboard band format. Acts
through the years as diverse as The White Stripes, Morphine, Om, The Black Keys
and many others are clearly in his debt.
Before hearing the news of his death, I’d been too busy to
play anything but decided on a memorial retrospective. As I’d already played L.A Woman this year –
Manzarek’s playing on Riders On The Storm
being one of its major highlights - I decided to start at the beginning;
(#373) The Doors –
The Doors (1966)
I remember reading an assessment in a book that resides somewhere on my
bookshelves that held it was hard to think of a better
debut album in the entire history of rock by an act whose members were all previously unknown. That thought has always stayed with me, and
years later, I still cannot think of a single alternative. As with many Doors albums the key tracks were
placed at the start or end of its original vinyl sides. Break On Through (To The Other Side) provided
an immediate and effective introduction.
Light My Fire provided the monster hit and with The End was the first of
a number of memorable tracks greater than 6 minutes in length. And all this is before factoring in tracks
such as The Crystal Ship, Soul Kitchen and their memorable covers of Back Door
Man and Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar).
By my retrospective was fated to end there. Shortly after lunch “M” rang me. She was in tears and it took a long time
before I was able to comprehend what she’d told me. Tests had confirmed that what had been
removed during her surgery was benign. She
wasn’t to be condemned to the same fate as Ray Manzarek.
Before long I had provided input to Jack on a pressing
matter, bashed out a triumphant thank you email to the small circle of
colleagues who knew what was at stake and was in the car headed for home. I stopped to purchase a bottle of the sparkling
wine previously known in Australia as champagne and entered the house. “M” wasn’t all that surprised to see me but
it was quite a while before we let go of each other.
The last few weeks had been tough mentally as I’d started to
let the prospect of a life without “M” intrude on my thinking. But I couldn’t let it show, especially, to
her. I’d been reasonably confident for
most of the journey that this life affirming diagnosis would be the ultimate
outcome. For “M” the entire journey had
been, quite understandably, the opposite.
Although music played no role in the day’s outcome, it had provided
quite the unexpected counterpoint. Incredibly, a day that had begun with my mourning
for someone I’d never met had morphed into a day for celebrating the continued life
with the person I knew better than anyone else on the planet (and vice versa). Not surprisingly, I felt a huge sense of
relief.
But it was not to be a sensation shared by the rest of my
body…….
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