From silver 'Jim Morrison - The Ultimate Collected Spoken Words 1967-1970'
The Doors gave a press conference at London's Institute for Contemporary Art on September 7 after their first night at the Roundhouse. The following day Jim gives an interview in a stripped white shirt. He talks about various topics ranging from performing to New Haven or the very recent Roundhouse shows just performed. This interview is conducted by Geoffrey Cannon and later reedited with newly recorded questions.
NOTES
from Stephen Davis, Vince Treanor, John Densmore, Leon Barnard,
Greg Shaw, Clive Selwood, Mick Farren and Mike Grant
THE DOORS' FIRST EUROPEAN TOUR ITINEARY
September 5, 1968 - September 20, 1968
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Thu. Sept. 5th BBC-1 TV "Top of The Pops," London, England (with Canned Heat)
Fri. Sept. 6th The Roundhouse, London, England (Early & Late Show with Jefferson Airplane)
Sat. Sept. 7th The Roundhouse, London, England (Early & Late Show with Jefferson Airplane)
Fri. Sept. 13th ZDF-TV "4-3-2-1 Hot & Sweet," Römerberg Square, Frankfurt, West Germany
Sat. Sept. 14th Kongresshalle, Frankfurt, West Germany (Early & Late Show with Canned Heat)
Sun. Sept. 15th Concertgebouw, Amsterdam, The Netherlands (Early & Late Show with Jefferson Airplane)
Tue. Sept. 17th Falkoner Theatre, Copenhagen, Denmark (Early & Late Show with Savoy Brown)
Wed. Sept. 18th Television-Byen, Gladsaxe, Copenhagen, Denmark
Fri. Sept. 20th Konserthuset, Stockholm, Sweden (Early & Late Show with Jefferson Airplane)
The Doors embark on a 17 day tour of Europe flying out of Kennedy International airport in Queens, New York to London on Air India on a 11:00 p.m. flight, which was delayed from a 6:00 p.m. flight schedule. The Doors and their equipment crew land at Heathrow airport on September 3. Granada's television crew meet them at the gate and film the legendary entrance by the four Doors (featured in the Doors Are Open). A press conference follows right at the airport before the band leave.
The band take the next day off to have some rest before the start of their one and only tour outside of America as a four piece. Currently the Jefferson Airplane and Canned Heat are touring Europe and the Doors will catch up with them, schedules permitting, and share billing on upcoming concert dates. (Despite Jim's short appearance on stage during Jefferson Airplane's set in Amsterdam, the Doors didn't play on stage together with neither of the groups.)
On September 5, the tour commences with an appearance on BBC's TV pop show 'Top Of The Pops' (along with Canned Heat) where the band perform 'Hello, I Love You' and 'Light My Fire' with live vocal accompanied with instrumental playback. Jim is obviously not excited in this promotional appearance and it shows. Unfortunately only photos left from this appearance as shortly after the episodes aired, the tapes have been erased. The programme aired weekly and this was a routine at the time due to the big number of acts performing in the program. (As a result, only a handful of the Top of the Pops' 60's material has survived. Even the Beatles 1966 performance hasn't turned up anywhere since then.)
The following day, on September 6 the Doors perform at Roundhouse, the first show of the tour and Granada's television crew is on the spot to film the triumphant concerts. The two sets the band gave were both taped as the first show they filmed was found to be damaged and this led to the filming of the second set - which finally became the basis for the documentary that includes the show partially and released as The Doors Are Open. By chance, a silent colour footage of 'When The Music's Over' from their equally prestigous first show on September 7 got in circulation that must have also been filmed by Granada.
After a few hours rest of their first two shows at Roundhouse, the Doors held an afternoon press conference the next day at London's Institute for Contemporary Art which is filmed by Granada (and also becomes part of The Doors Are Open). Jim thoughtfully fielded questions and deflected political criticism by saying that songs like "Unknown Soldier" spoke for themselves. When a riporter asked about comparisons with Mick Jagger, Jim answered: "I've always thought comparisons were useless and ugly. It's a shortcut to thinking." Another asked about fans coming to him for advice. "I get incredible letters," Jim said, warming to the subject. "But they teach me how to live rather than me teaching them. My fans are intelligent youngsters. Very sensitive people." On September 8 Jim gave yet another an interview to Geoffrey Cannon which later titled as "Stoned But Articulate."
Excpert taken from Stephen Davis' book "Jim Morrison: Life, Death, Legend," 2004, p.278-281;
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"August 1968. The Doors were excited because their first European tour was scheduled for September. (The Jefferson Airplane and Canned Heat would appear with them at many of the venues.) They even rehearsed a few times in their workshop, determined to take no prisoners in England, Germany, Holland, Sweden and Denmark. All the shows had sold out in minutes. Jim asked Robert Gover to come along and write about the tour, hopefully for Esquire, which Jim admired for its essays by Norman Mailer. (Gover passed on the opportunity.) Jim reedited and polished his poem "Texas Radio & the Big Beat (The WASP)," for publication in the European tour program. January Jansen made Jim a new leather suit, with wide red lapels, and a studly leather belt with huge silver conchos. The British music press - Melody Maker, New Musical Express - were frothing in anticipation. There were so many requests for interviews that Elektra's London office scheduled a press conference instead. Granada Television, England's most important independent TV production company, wanted to film a documentary of the London shows. The Beatles and the Stones had requested tickets. Jim shaved the beard he'd grown over the summer and had his hair done. He wanted to look his best for what became the Lizard King's final bow.
. . .
The Doors were in New York for a few days before flying to London on September 3. Jim called Pamela and asked her to be with him. She parked her Jaguar XKE at a one-hour meter at LAX and flew to JFK. The cops towed the car the following day and found a pound of high-test marijuana in the trunk. Pam was arrested when she tried to claim the car a few days later, but Max Fink (Jim's attorney) somehow got her off.
The Doors' 1968 European tour was a considerable triumph. It had to be, cause the European kids were waiting ofr them. The London music paper Melody Maker was beating the drums: "Look out, England! Jim Morrison is coming to get you....Like Jagger and the Stones, Jim Morrison comes on like a fifties-style rock idol in skinthight leather trousers, but is a actually a poet of some stature....His audiences know he isn't kidding."
The Doors responded to this adulation. Almost every show and broadcast was very good, confirming their European reputation as America's coolest band. The brief tour was a testament to what Jim Morrison could still do - if he really wanted to. As it turned out, these shows also marked the end of the Doors, originally conceived. Soon, at Jim's insistence, they would mutate into another kind of group altogether.
They flew to London via Air India on September 2, 1968. The Granada TV crew met them at Heathrow Airport and filmed them as they emerged from customs. On September 5 the Doors performed "Hello, I Love You" on the BBC's Top Of The Pops TV broadcast. The next day, Friday, September 6, the Doors played the first of their two legendary nights at the Roundhouse, and old, acoustically challenged former railway barn in Chalk Farm.
The early show went off well, but the late show was a killer. Originally scheduled to begin at ten-thirty, it was delayed by the Airplane's (stunning) two-and-a-half-hour set and didn't start until after one in the morning. Many of England's pop aristocrats were there: Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Cream, Traffic, and movie stars Terrence Stamp and Julie Christie. As the Granada crew filmed every song, Jim performed with a contained passion and an animal grace that surprised even the other Doors and the their crew. They began with a deadly "Five To One" and tore through seventeen songs. "The Unknown Soldier" was rapturously received by the long-haired young crowd, since the English were generally against the American presence in Vietnam. Jim cut "Crawlin' King Snake" into "Back Door Man," then took the band through an abridged but dramatic "Celebration Of The Lizard" that brought down the house. After "Hello, I Love You," they went into "Moonlight Drive," during which Jim recited "Horse Latitudes." After a howling ovation, the Doors came back and jammed on "Money" until the gray London September dawn suddenly broke through the Roundhouse's glass skylights, an epiphany for everyone present.
After a few hours rest, the Doors held an afternoon press conference at London's Institute for Contemporary Art, where Jim thoughtfully fielded questions and deflected political criticism by saying that songs like "Unknown Soldier" spoke for themselves. Densmore: "Jim dazzled the reporters with his rhetoric. He controlled the conversation with long pauses between sentences while he weighed his answers. You could see the wheels turning as he took the maximum time tolerable before responding.
When a riporter aksed about comparisons with Mick Jagger, Jim answered: "I've always thought comparisons were useless and ugly. It's a shortcut to thinking." Another asked about fans coming to him for advice. "I get incredible letters," Jim said, warming to the subject. "But they teach me how to live rather than me teaching them. My fans are intelligent youngsters. Very sensitive people."
That night they again played two shows at the Roundhouse. the Airplane, the English rock singer Terry Reid, and the Crazy World of Arthur Brown played first. Robby Krieger had gotten over his jet lag and treated the audience to a psychedelic guitar display that burned with fire and originality. The second show again finished at dawn with a half-hour reading of "the End," during which the crowd sat quietly transfixed, as if they were attending a solemn rite.
Jim later said this second Roundhouse show was the Doors' zenith performance. He told New Musical Express, "The audience was one of the best I've ever have. In the States, they're there to enjoy themselves as much as they came to hear you. But at the Roundhouse, they were there to listen. It was like going back to the roots. It stimulated us. They took me by surprise, because I expected them to be little resistant, a little reserved. We'd been cautioned there might be hostility toward an American group. But they were fantastic, is all I can say. It was probably the most informed, receptive audience I've ever seen in my life. I think I enjoyed the Roundhouse more than any other date for years.""
The Doors' road manager, Vince Treanor's recollections taken from www.thefreedomman.com forums, 2006:
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"The Roundhouse was a good show. It was not like Filmore East in March, 1968. The crowds were very excited and exciting. The place was a fantasy, considering the former use of it. The music was good because we were on show in an entirely new place. The guys wanted things to go well and so they did until Amsterdam. It is most difficult to tell you why and what made a really smashing Doors show. They just happened. Location, audience, time of week or month - who knows. You could not tell it was coming but you sure did know when it happened. Also, Jim was relatively sober. That was one Major Factor."
Excpert taken from John Densmore's biography "Riders On The Storm," 1990 p.173-175;
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"Rumour had it that we were getting a reputation in England as a serious group with political overtones, a group to be reckoned with. At first our records were underground favourites, but by the third album "Hello, I Love You" was a hit across the Atlantic- So in August of '68, off we went for two weeks to conquer England and Europe. On the eleven-hour flight my mind wandered between looking at the polar icecaps and daydreaming. I decided to add to my muttonchop sideburns and grow a mustache. Something to do on the long plane ride. I looked over at Robby; he had plugged the movie headphones into his electric guitar and was playing up a storm. Silently. I got up to take another walk up and down the aisles. The plane wasn't full so our entourage was spread all over the place . Jim was sacked out across five seats in the center aisle, and Dorothy was sitting all alone in the bussines section watching Goodbye, Mr. Chips. she was crying. Must have been a tearjerker. In London we played the Roundhouse, an old circular barn in a northwest suburb called Chalk Farm. It held a few thousand people, and we were there for two nights with the Jefferson Airplane. Someone told me that Paul McCartney was there, but I didn't see him. It was packed; the "West Coast" sound comes to England. The BBc was taping us for an hour-long TV special that would later be called The Doors Are Open. The Airplane played for two and a half hours. San Francisco groups were notorious for not being able to get offstage without playing forever. Maybe it had something to do with drugs! They must have thought they were playing in slow motion.
That night Jim was on and we played our asses off. Best performance on tape. I felt totally concentrated during both sets. Since we opened the first night, I insisted we go on last the second night. there was a hassle, but I was adamant. It was supposed to be equal billing. We went on second. About this time I felt I was developing a sense of where the audience was at during a concert. It was like having an antenna out and being extra sensitive to the audience's feelings - as a whole - as if they were one giant being. If the audience were getting bored or wanted a change of pace, which was an instant feedback on your performance, I not only sensed it early, I figured out what song would be good to play next instead of the one planned, to take them to a different level. In Copenhagen we started fighting in front of everybody over what to play next, but it was worth it to me. "How 'bout 'Little Red Rooster'?" Jim said. Ray and I immediately looked dissapointed. the Stones had already covered that song, and our version wasn't as good. Jim always wanted to play it now. Robby was noncomittal, and all of a sudden, Ray started "Soul Kitchen." I was relieved. No one seemed to have the initiative to get a piece of paper and figure out a set to play, so the job landed in my lap. I figured you need a dramatic opening: "Break On Through" or "Back Door Man"; then take it down for a while: "Music's Over" or "Five to One"; and then slowly build to a strong climax: "Light My Fire." "The End" evolved into our encore, which shellshocked the audience into leaving. At the press party in London, Jim dazzled the reporters with his rhetoric. He controlled the conversation with long pauses between each sentence while he weighed his answers. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he took the maximum time tolerable in answering. I like to try to find some humor in my answers. A riporter asked me about the blending of rock and jazz. I said "It could never happen, but if it could, we're it!" In the middle of the noisy London press party I shouted out, "LET ME SAY THIS ABOUT THAT," mocking the seriousness of the whole affair. Ray responded confidently to the interviews, sometimes in long roundabout ways. He would work himself into a place where he evaded the question entirely and said what he wanted. He gave a short answer to one question. "Do the Doors advocate drugs?" "Well..." Ray responded, smiling at Jim. Jim smiled back. I felt it was a glib, irresponsible half reply. I decided right then to give a donation to the TM movement in hopes that other young people would be exposed to meditation. TM helped me survive the drug scene; maybe others could benefit.
Robby hardly said anything. He just twisted a starnd of his frizzy brown hair and evasively kept quiet. I knew he had thoughts about all these questions but he was too shy."
The Doors' publicist during the 1968 European tour, Leon Barnard's recollections, 2004
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"The first time I met with Jim Morrison was early September 1968. I was standing outside the Royal Lancaster Hotel in London, waiting for limousines to take us to the Roundhouse Chalk Farm outside the city for rehearsals. The Doors had just arrived in England a couple of days before, and I had hitchhiked from Copenhagen where I had been promoting them. And even though I wasn’t officially on their payroll yet, I managed to get good results and my reputation as a “blabber mouth” spread from Beverly Hills to New York City, London, Stockholm, Frankfurt, etc., throughout Western Europe. And as I traveled I sent notes back to Bill Siddons at the Doors’ office in L.A., including newspaper clippings and other pieces of proof of my successes. What I didn’t know was, Jim Morrison had been reading my letters and had taken a liking to me; forming a kind of distant bond that hadn’t quite matured yet into the real thing. So when I showed up in England unexpectedly (on the day before my first eyetoeye meeting with Jim) Bill Siddons hired me on the spot to represent the Doors on their first tour of Europe. On the day that Jim and I first shook hands, I was reading a Melody Maker music magazine, and as my eyes gazed up to the horizon of it I saw cowboy boots sauntering in my direction. And then leather pants, topped by a loose-fitting fluffy white shirt with Jim Morrison inside it. “Hi, I’m Jim,” he greeted, thinking I was an English roadie or something, offering his hand. Checking out my bare feet. “Don’t you ever cut your feet? Or catch colds?” “Nah, my feet are sensitive to touch. I grew up at the beach, and I’ve been going barefoot since I was a kid. And I don’t usually catch colds; I’m in good heath,” I answered. “Hi, my name’s Leon.” Shaking his hand. “Hey, you’re the guy in Copenhagen!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been reading your letters. Get in.” (opening the door to the limo, offering me a seat between he and Pam) And during the drive to the Chalk Farm Jim interviewed me about what I had been doing in Copenhagen, asking me questions about the Danish people, etc., and seemed genuinely interested and carefully listened to my answers. I was not “starstruck,” so the conversation between the three of us was open and casual. And this was the first thing I noticed during my first meeting with Jim Morrison: He listened.
Also, it was easy to work with him. In most cases Jim was very cooperative...in large measure because he wanted to help me perform my duties - and again, because he trusted my judgment. There were times though when maybe a few too many drinks made my representation a bit difficult. But even now as I look back on it, it was part of the program; being a “Man Friday” to a genius poet, wasn’t always easy, but worth it."
Review by Greg Shaw taken from 'The Doors On The Road' 1997
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September 6, 1968
The Roundhouse, Chalk Farm, London, England
Late Show (10:00 pm)
Five to One
Break on Through
When the Music's Over
Alabama Song>>
Back Door Man>>
Crawlin' King Snake>>
Back Door Man
Spanish Caravan
Love Me Two Times
Light My Fire
The Unknown Soldier
Soul Kitchen
Celebration of the Lizard (abridged version)
"a little game">>
"the hill dwellers">>
"wait! there's been a slaughter here!">>
"not to touch the earth">>
"i am the lizard king!"
Hello, I Love You
Moonlight Drive>>
Horse Latitudes>>
Moonlight Drive>>
Money
"The Doors kicked off their European Tour on September 5, 1968 on an English TV show, Top Of The Pops, with a live performance of "Hello I Love You". Top Of The Pops was played back on the B.B.C 1 (Ch1) at 7:30 p.m that same night. Following The Doors’ national TV exposure on "Top Of The Pops", they then played at The Roundhouse in London. The Roundhouse was a railway station that had been recently vacated by British Rail. The Doors played two sets each night for two consecutive nights in front of an audience of 2,500 for each set - all four sets were a sell out. The Roundhouse was packed to it’s maximum capacity and there were still another 2,000 people who were queuing up outside and were just dying to get in. According to rhythm guitarist for Jefferson Airplane, Paul Kantner: "They were ready for us in England by 1968. I still think it was an underground level, it was a very big underground level, so it was very well organised, not organised, but it was large."
Indeed the English audience were ready for them by 1968 - in fact Paul McCartney attended the first show that night and had witnessed probably one of best shows that The Doors had played. Other rock celebrities that attended The Roundhouse concerts included Arthur Brown, Steve Winwood and Jim Capaldi. The English audience seemed to really listen to what The Doors had to say since this was the first time they played in Europe, unlike the American public who started to go to Doors concerts to see Morrison do something "spectacular". Robbie Krieger probably best summarised the differences between the American & European audiences, as he once said to Richard Goldstein of the Village Voice, during a 1969 interview on a PBS educational TV show, Critique. "It’s actually funny, in Europe the kids were much more politically oriented, you know if we said anything politically they’d go into a furore you know. I mean they love it, especially anything against America you know, but if we just played, then they’d dig that too but, then they really dug the political side of it to you know. But in America, it’s just the opposite really. A lot of people....at our concerts at least, they’re sort of, it seems like they don’t come to hear us speak politics." "What do they come to hear?" - asked Richard Goldstein. "I think they come for the religious experiences", Robbie replied. Both first and second sets for the September 6 concert were filmed by Granada Television, later fused with footage of political demonstrations, as seen on the video "The Doors Are Open" (originally to be titled as "When the Music Changes, the Walls of the City Will Shake"). The concert was broadcasted on BBC/Granada TV on October 4 that same year but only included footage from the second set. Tobler & Doe (1987), felt that although the first concert was excellent by any standards, it wasn’t as good as the other concerts that were to follow. One reason for the first concert not being as good as the second concert could be due to the cameras and television crew present, it introduced an extra third element, a "voyeuristic" element which acted as a barrier between the group and the audience, not allowing Jim to express freely what he wanted to say or do. Another possible reason for the standard of the concert as being below par may’ve been the venue and the psychological climate of the audience. Pop journalist, Geoffrey Cannon of The Guardian (Manchester), described in the following year that London was a dreadful place for rock concerts: "There is something ineffably disconsolate about the Round House", which he went on to say: "And this is why visiting bands find concerts so miserable mentally, the audience might as well not be there. Jim Morrison, Joe McDonald, and Frank Zappa have all described the same experience to me; that in concert, they are overwhelmed by the sense that nothing is happening. They feel ill, tired, doubtful and want to get out to another town." Contrary to what Jim had told Geoffrey Cannon, a review by Mike Grant of Rave magazine revealed quite the opposite: "They were one of the best audiences we’ve ever had. Everyone seemed to take it easy. It was like going back to the roots again and it stimulated us to give a good performance. They were fantastic. That’s all I can say. ’Cept that we enjoyed playing at the Roundhouse more than any other date for years." Similarly, John Tobler, writer for English magazine Zig Zag, had caught The Doors on their fourth set and was extremely impressed with their performance. Almost two years later, John had interviewed Jim at the Isle of Wight Music Festival on August 30, 1970: "That was, I think that was one of the best concerts I’ve ever done." Robin Denselow of the Guardian (Manchester) was rather disappointed and dissatisfied with the group’s performance; " - but their experiments are based on some well-established traditions. Their stage act consists of a series of disjointed theatrical sketches; there is a jolting improvisation on guitar, organ and, drums, against which Morrison speaks, snags and acts out his songs. .... American audiences rise to their feet and join in, but the audience who had paid 35s to be squashed in the heat of the Roundhouse floor watched impassively." Interestingly enough, Robin Denselow’s review seemed to convey the same message regarding the format of a Doors concert, with that of Ludvig Rasmusson, journalist for Sweden’s main newspaper Dagens Nyheter. Ludvig Rasmusson had seen The Doors perform two sets at Stockholm in the following month. "Everything was calculated and rehearsed in the fast show. But there were also a few improvisations but they were also a part of the planned routine." Other opinions varied amongst reviewers of the time, ranging from Chris Welch of Melody Maker who was quoted as saying, "the worst group ever" to Tony Wilson’s review in Melody Maker as being, "one of the most professional groups on the scene everywhere". Despite the range of conflicting opinions, the concert lasted for almost 80 minutes and had a brilliant cross section of music from the group’s first three albums. Interestingly enough is that the group had blended "Crawling King Snake" as part of their medley - this song was to appear almost more than two and a half years later on "L.A. Woman". Unfortunately, this recording tends to be muffled and distorted during some parts of the concert."
Excpert taken from the
Interview with Clive Selwood, General Manager of Elektra London, 1993 - www.spliffmag.com
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"I heard the first Doors album in the form of a white label test pressing from America a few months after joining Elektra records in Britain as Sales Manager. It was both electric and electrifying and only the label's second venture into what became known as West Coast Rock. Elektra's first venture into that music genre had been Da Capo by Love who were at that time very much more popular in Los Angeles where both bands were based. Until then, Elektra's output had been essentially acoustic folk and the switch to electric guitar based rock was truly innovative and dangerous. The Doors album was magnificent in terms of performance, content and production but it was immediately apparent that it would be very difficult to sell to a British public and particularly to British radio which was dominated by the BBC Light programme who were extremely limited in the amount of records they were allowed to play and were still heavily reliant upon the happy sound of a two and a half minute pop single. Elektra at the time was a small specialist label run out of a third floor office and basement in London's Dean Street. The staff comprised a Canadian Managing Director, a Secretary, a Production Assistant and me. We also imported the great Blue Note jazz label and Elektra's classical subsidiary Nonesuch. Hardly the sophisticated marketing and promotional organisation through which to launch a major world class act. We nevertheless released the album and set about trying to get radio plays, press reviews and hopefully a degree of acceptance with the leading tastemakers like The Beatles who were in the process of recording Sgt. Pepper. At this remove it is difficult to even recall just how revolutionary The Doors album really was but there was no doubt that we were entering new musical territory and meeting a lot of opinionated opposition. Most of the initial reviews were mystified or hostile but a minor breakthrough was a tiny mention on one of the music papers that Ringo suggested that The Doors were one of the more interesting bands to emerge in America. Sales were minimal and there was nobody on pre Peel British radio prepared even to listen. A single was needed and it occurred to me that an edited version of "Light My Fire" might provide the breakthrough at least in terms of radio exposure. Working from home with primitive equipment, I
completed a rough edit bringing the piece down to about three and a half minutes but leaving the soaring instrumental middle section intact. I sent the edit with some trepidation to the boss in America
Jac Holzman and got a call back to sat that the notion of an edit was approved but that the task had been given to the producer of the album Paul Rothschild who was approaching the project in another direction.
Eventually, Paul's edit arrived and I was horrified to discover that virtually the entire organ and guitar bridge had been removed. We nevertheless released the new version and began to pick up a few plays on the pirate station Radio London which was broadcasting someone out in the North Sea and was becoming increasingly popular with a young audience who were being ignored or at best patronised by BBC radio. "Light My Fire" eventually charted at the lower end in Britain but took America by storm where it dramatically shot to No 1 and took the album with it no doubt helped by the stunning cover shot of Jim stripped to the wait and looking suitably tortured. Elektra was the hot new label and probably severely stretched financially. A million singles and a million albums have to be manufactured, distributed and paid for by the label before any money comes back and these costs, along with the recording, promotion and advances to a newly successful act, can surprisingly bring down a company without adequate financial resources. Add to this the fact that most of the big retail chains in America only pay their accounts when they need to order more product and it becomes apparent why so many successful small labels end up in the hands of well funded multinationals or The Mafia. It also illustrates the importance of the follow-up single or album since all too many times the label without a second hit may never be paid in full for the first - and still be stuck with all of the costs. Out of the blue, Jac Holzman arrived and informed us that he as closing down the UK operation having completed a deal to licence the label in Britain to Polydor Records who had the resources and no doubt some much needed funds. I was offered the job of running the label within Polydor as Label Manager with a welcome salary increase but the rest of the staff were "let go" and the office and the warehouse were closed. The Canadian Managing Director, a kind and gentle man called Don Johnston died shortly after the event and it was years before his secretary forgave me for what she obviously saw as disloyalty and ambition. The move to Polydor was smoothly and quickly effected and I now had an office and secretary within a building humming with professionals. Unfortunately, in the transition, "Light My Fire" flickered and died but interest in the band was growing at least among the hippie movement who now had a voice in the "underground" papers like OZ and IT. John Peel was introducing The Brits to West Coast Rock via his magical Perfumed Garden on Radio London and Sgt Pepper was top of the charts. It was probably the most exciting and hopeful time for anybody under thirty and truly a golden age for those lucky enough to be in my business. We released "Alabama Song" as a follow up single without success but it helped maintain momentum for the band who were now superstars in America with Jim already becoming an icon as well as an iconoclast. The Roundhouse, a converted train shed, was the only sizeable venue willing to book this new underground music in London and The Doors, who had just released "Strange Days" as their second album, agreed to appear there for two nights at the start of a short European tour to promote the new album. The new single in the States was "Hello I Love You", which was possibly the weakest thing they had ever recorded, bore rather too much resemblance to a Ray Davies song. This was not surprising since Jim in particular was a great fan of The Kinks. It was nevertheless another huge America hit and on the strength of that I was able to get the band booked on to Top Of The Pops which was the only meaningful television exposure available and pretty much a guarantee of a hit if the record had what it took. I also entered negotiations with Granada TV to film the tour and the performances for a hitherto unheard of one hour show devoted to the band. Even The Beatles or The Stones had not yet been accorded that level of exposure. A footnote here to remind younger readers that most of the music world and virtually all of the established record companies hated this new music and hoped that it was a passing fad that would do away as quickly as it had arrived. As detailed in depth elsewhere Polydor were not convinced of the long term potential of The Doors and every penny of promotional support had to be gouged out with much kicking and screaming. Jefferson Airplane were due to support us at The Roundhouse and their record company refused even to advertise their album in OZ or IT, who left blank pages in the publications where an advert had been expected. I learned later that Decca Records were unable to find the right weight of board on which to print The Stones' Satanic Majesties album and it fell to mighty Mick Jagger to scour the world for the several tons of board required to fill the demand. Strange Days indeed. In the teeth of much opposition, I was able to arrange a number of record shop window displays in the West End, around The Roundhouse and along the route from Heathrow which, it turned out, impressed the band no end. The main task however was to find a dramatic and innovative venue from which to introduce the band to the media and here again my old mate Peely came to the rescue. At John's suggestion, I got in touch with The Institute Of Contemporary Arts in The Mall who were having an exhibition of Cybernetic Serendipity at the time (no, I didn't know what it was either but it sounded right) and they agreed to let us host a reception amid the robots and strange exhibits. Invitations were sent to all the music media, who responded very favourably. The Doors arrived red-eyed from an overnight flight from Los Angeles and were met by the Granada team, who stuck camera and microphones in their faces and asked them to identify themselves as they stepped off the plane. Perhaps not the best possible way to enter a country for the first time but the lads were polite and good humoured and even in those trying circumstances their characters emerged. Ray was quiet and studious, Robbie was so shy that he appeared stoned and inarticulate, John was slick and looking for aggravation and Jim was enigmatic and almost unbelievably beautiful. They were accompanied by Bill Siddons, a former road manager now hired as a salaried manager. The band were shrewd enough even then to realise that they would always take the important decisions rather than pay a percentage of their now enormous earnings to a management team. As the limos transported the group into London, the camera crew recorded their first impressions and I was delighted to see how thrilled they were with the window displays along the route. A point worth noting for any aspiring entrepreneurs is the value of window displays which are one of the most cost effective promotional items and I've yet to meet an artist who hasn't been bowled over by the sight of their face dominating a window. After a few hours rest the "freaks" were collected from their hotel with some difficulty as they had never heard British telephones ring and the wake up calls had them believing that the rooms were infested with grasshoppers. They were driven down The Mall past Buckingham Palace to The ICA where a surprisingly hostile press were waiting to pounce. Quite why they were so hostile I have never understood. The setting was superb with an abundant supply of food and drink amid great modern art and artifacts highlighted by a squadron of mobile robots moving silently among the guests - but hostile they were and none more so that the music press. Perhaps they were intimidated by the band's reputation or by the surroundings or more likely by the group's obvious intelligence. With the exception of the representatives of OZ and IT, the press were actively anti and tried to trip the various members into making silly statements. The most obnoxious was the girl from the NME. Jim was the obvious target and refused to be badgered into instant responses to daft questions like "How do you feel about God?" and "Tell us the meaning of life as you see it.". He gave a slow well considered answer to every damn fool question which infuriated the scorps even more while the cameras popped and whirred. Perhaps it was his presence that upset them so. Who knows? The British press are with too few exceptions nasty, lazy, greedy, uninformed and too fond of the bottle. Ray had brought his new young Japanese wife on the trop and she was both horrified and mystified. I was just ashamed. The next day was given over to a sound check at the Roundhouse and to recording Top Of The Pops, where the band posed for a picture with Sylia, my secretary, and me in the scruffy dressing room. Again, the band were professional, turning up on time and enduring without complaint the endless false starts and general hanging around without which television appears to be unable to function. Following the television performance which, in those days, was recorded "live" on Wednesday for transmission on Thursday in time for the weekend rush to the record stores, the visitors had a night off and may well have sampled some of London's fairly legendary night life. On the last day of the sold out shows at the Roundhouse, I collected the band for a sound check in the afternoon before they went off for an early dinner. Unfortunately, the Granada producer must have mentioned to them at some point that they would be required to open the show rather than close it to avoid the possibility of his crew being required to work beyond midnight when "golden time" (i.e. double wages) would apply and for which he had no budget. The Doors had naturally expected to close the show as headliners and were not about to be seen as a support to Jefferson Airplane on their first European concert. When the time came to start the show, The Doors were nowhere to be found and The Airplane were not ready to perform since they had been told by the television team that they would close the show for the opening night. With Peely playing records to an increasingly restive audience, the minutes ticked by with no sign of The Doors. I then had a call from John Densmore who would not say where the band was but demanding to know if they were going to close the show. When I tried to explain the problems with the importance of the television coverage, he simply hung up. Over the next hour or so, I received several such calls, each one with the same simple question and each time terminated by the dialling tone when I tried to explain the situation or enquire about the whereabouts of the band (who, I later learned, were simply circling the venue in a limo, dropping off every few minutes to make the calls.) The audience were very pissed off and slow handclapping, the television people were desperate, I was frantic and Peely was outraged by being left alone to amuse an increasingly mutinous mob who had not idea of the "problem". The Airplane's manager thought it was hilarious. Despite the appearance, it now looked likely that they would be seen to headline over the mighty Doors. Eventually, Densmore stayed on the line long enough to allow me to explain the situation and to point out that the eventual audience for the television documentary would far exceed and outweigh any immediate considerations. They arrived and were quickly announced though by now I cannot recall if they opened or closed the show. The Roundhouse was a truly dark and rather dangerous place but it was full to capacity and I could find nowhere to stand that would give me a view of proceedings that I had spend to much time and energy arranging. The only viable spot was up in a disused balcony that was closed off to the public on safety grounds and guarded by a typically obdurate jobsworth. My appeals, threats and offers of bribes fell upon deaf ears until out of the blue Jac Holzman arrived and with his usual authority and economy said to the guardian "That is my band. I intend to see them. If you don't get out of my way, I will cancel the show and you will have to explain your actions to a few thousand murderous fans. You've got five seconds starting from now... four... three...". We went upstairs. It is a line I've subsequently tried on several occasions without success. A question of natural authority I guess. The Doors were in fact only OK. The band were terrific but Jim's performance appeared to me at least too overly studied and theatrical - probably as a result of playing to stadium audiences where everything needed to be on a larger scale. The were nevertheless very well received with a number of encores and the whole performance was captured on film for television. "Hello I Love You", which was the lamest single the band ever recorded, became their biggest selling UK hit. Does that tell you something? The next stop for the band was Amsterdam where Jim literally died - and I don't mean just professionally. He apparently ate a huge chunk of hash washed down with a bottle of brandy and lapsed into a coma with all signs of life gone. Fortunately, he was rushed to hospital and a stomach pump saved his life but you have to wonder that the long term effects were. The next time I met Jim was in New York where he was attending a sales conference with sales people and distributors all eager to hear and order the next album. He was in fine form. He looked fit, laughing and shaking hands with the commercial representatives. He even found time to try to "pull" my lovely wife Shirley who just smiled her enigmatic smile. I recall Jim cracking up when one of the enthusiastic salesmen referred to the album as the Doors third straight album and I pointed out that in my opinion they had yet to make even a first straight album. The sales meetings across America were a huge success with orders pouring in but I wonder how many of today's pampered rock stars would make the effort to get to know the folks who would make them rich. At that time Jim was looking his best. He was fit, tanned, relaxed and very good company."
Excpert taken from
HUNTING OF THE LIZARD KING - NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS - SEPTEMBER 25 - OCTOBER 4, 1975 by Mick Farren
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"The first time I was him was at the Roundhouse. It was a Middle Earth all-night spectacular that starred the
Doors and the Jefferson Airplane - the most ambitious project yet tackled by the flower punks and the
psychedelic wheeler-dealers who rode herd on what was laughingly called London's underground rock business.
It was clear right from the first that there was no love lost been the Doors and the Airplane. In the
first wave of back-stage gossip came the news that a high-level tactical battle had been raging all afternoon
over who should go on first. The Doors had won - by the strategic use of stage lighting. Their roadies
had arranged the Doors' 20-odd Acoustic speakers, meticulously matched black, rexine-covered monoliths crowned
by baby-blue high frequency horn, like the pillars at a Nuremburg rally. The Airplane had little
choice, with their somewhat ragbag assortment of hippie-built cabinets, to work around the Doors' faith accomplishment. Both bands had obviously approached the London concert determined to emerge as The Stars. The Airplane had brought the entire Joshua Light Show from the Fillmore West. The Doors simply had Jim. They did, however, have one other advantage. Granada TV was making a film of the Doors and Granada TV's money was intrumental in the staging of the show. This was the Doors ultimate answer. If anyone didn't give them what they wanted, they could cause a great deal of trouble.
It was typical of Morrison's public personna that, as the Doors performance got under way, he slowly began to turn on the camera crew. At first he posed for the three big cumbersome outside broadcast cameras, then his narcissism started to plunge over the edge. He dodged them nimbly, jumping out of range each time they tried to focus on him. Finally, with a grand gesture of childish petulance, he flung out a dramatic arm and demanded the TV lights should be shut off. He pulled the audience in behind as he warmed to the role of the star punk giving the finger to the old folks' medium. A storm of catcalls and booing broke out. The lights were finally
extingished, and the rest of the film had to be shot in murky half darkness.
During the second performance Morrison went a stage further. He actually turned on the audience, interrupting the music with a stream of random obsenities until it seemed that he produced what he
considered a postive reaction from the crowd. Once that was achieved, he got back to business as usual. It was then that the idea first occured to me that there was something inside Morrison that forced him to push any relationship to the ultimate. With both individuals and audience he appeared to need to see how much they could take. To define, by practical experiment, how much abuse anyone would put up with before they ceased to adore him. It was this willingness to go to the limit that set Morrison apart from the commond herd of posing, macho rock frontmen. It also created what was possibly the greatest problem. As he discovered the depth's of public masochism, just how much abuse these people were willing to accept without revolting, he became disgusted."
THE EXPLOSIVE JIM MORRISON - written by Mike Grant, 1968
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Jim Morrison lives in exaggerations- the dragged-out half stumble and the sloth-like stance on stage, the upturned, pouting face with eyes clenched shut, the ponderous but precise speaking voice which is out of the best Brando mould. James Douglas Morrison, Superstar, Poet, and idol of America's rising generation, would be a perfect target for the satirist. That apart, he is not as black as he has been painted. Already prewarned by colleagues of Morrison's erratic behaviour to ward the British press during The Doors' recent and eventful stay here, it did not cool my apprehension any to read, on my way to see Mr. Morrison, his publicist's claim that he can be civil, polite, even erudite one day; yet gross or, as Jim says, "primitive" the next. Which extreme was I about to face?
"He's been quite good today", said his British publicist at Polydor- Elektra Records, with the air of a keeper talking about London Zoo's naughtiest lion. I was ushered into a small room containing The Doors sundry people flitting back and forth with no apparent purpose. Most of them were hovering on the edge of Morrison's conversation and it was Jim, in open-necked shirt and tight black leather jeans, who dominated the room.
Among those present with some purpose were three gentlemen in a Granada Television team filming the whole Doors visit with a rare degree of dedication. A bored-looking Robbie Krieger, Doors' guitar man, was to tell me later that they had even followed one of them to the toilet! Next to Robbie was drummer John Densmore, an active Maharishi student, colourfully attired, who was sitting cross-legged on his chair, saying little and watching the chaos that was supposed to be a press conference. In another corner sat Ray Manzarek with a polite smile on his face and a polite line in answers.
Krieger, hiding behind dark glasses and an uncontrolled growth of beard had some interesting things to say about Morrison in the short interview which came to a sharp end at the sight of a Granada man crawling along the floor and pushing a huge mike up into our faces. A camera was mean while probing the recesses of my left ear.
What of Jim's reported moods? "It depends," said Robbie, "which day of the week you get him. It is just the way he is. I think I understand him as well as anybody through being with him for three years, but I still don't understand him completely."
Morrison certainly knows how to project himself and has an actor's feel for presence. Questions are met by prolonged periods of deep thought accompanied by closed eyes and an intense expression downward. He can often take so long to answer that the poor interviewer finds he's lost track of his precise inquiry. Answers themselves, delivered in a half-stumbling tone reminiscent of Jim's movements on stage, are accompanied by intense glances skyward.
He first wished to extend his praise for the behaviour of the audience during The Doors' two London concerts at the Roundhouse. "They were one of the best audiences we've ever had. Everyone seemed to take it so easy. It was like going back to the roots again and it stimulated us to give a good performance. They were fantastic. That's all I can say. Except that we enjoyed playing at the Roundhouse more than any other date for years."
While on the subject of their stage act, I asked Jim how important the sex angle was. "Sex is just one part of my act. There are a lot of other factors. It is important I guess, but I don't think it is the main thing, although all music is a very nature-based thing. So they can't be separated. But the sex thing has been picked out because it sells papers."
How important were politics in his writing? "I don't think so far politics has been a major theme in my songs. It is there in a few songs, but it is a very minor theme. Politics is people and their interaction with other people, so you cannot really separate it from anything."
I became aware at this point that there was a hint, only a hint, about Morrison that he was reluctant to take himself seriously. The journalist faithfully transcribing Morrison's thoughts to paper would be well advised to glance up from his work for a second- and there you may see just the trace of an inward smile on the handsome countenance. Jim acknowledges that Elvis Presley along with other giants of the era, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Gene Vincent, was an early and strong influence on him. He says: "Their influence was due to their music and the fact I heard them at an age when I was kinda ready for an influence."
Jim was courteous enough to me. But a glimpse of what the "primitive" Morrison could be like came out at the questioning of one persistent reporter who asked him first about the comparisons between him and Mick Jagger. "I've always thought comparisons were useless and ugly. It is a short cut to thinking," replied Jim, in what seemed to be too glib an answer to an off-the-cuff comment. He went into deep thought, with eyes closed and down, and finally replied, "Well, how do you see yourself?" The questioner pressed for an answer. More deep thought. "That's a rhetorical answer. You might as well ask me how do I see my left palm."
I asked him if he found the group's followers coming to him to be taught how to live. "I get incredible letters," he replied, "but they teach me how to live rather than me teach them. My fans are intelligent youngsters and very sensitive.
"On a par with Morrison's writing is his stage performance- often described as evil. Jim prefers the term primeval. "I was less theatrical, less artificial when I began," he says, "but now the audiences we play for are much larger and the rooms wider. It's necessary to project more. I think when your a small dot at the end of a large arena, you have to make up for that lack of intimacy with expanded movements."
Syndication International Ltd. 1968