Mr. Mojo Risin' - 40th Anniversary Tribute

Today marks the 40th anniversary of the death of Mr. Mojo Risin' aka The Lizard King aka James Douglas Morrison. While I walked around the forest today with a dear friend who came to visit I found myself humming "Soul Kitchen" at one point in the day (in order to get the song Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones out of my head). I didn't know today was the day Jim Morrison was sadly found dead of a heart attack in his Paris appartement in the then not-as-hip Marais neighbourhood.

Apparently people flocked to Pere Lachaise cemetary for the occasion, but in 2001 because the rent on his site had only been paid for 30 years he was nearly moved. His grave site is one of the most heavily guarded and rightly so - aside from the now flat grave stone his original headstone and sculpture bust have been stolen from the site over the years.

Jim was a bit of literature buff and besides writing lyrics he also wrote poetry. His literary influences include William Blake, Arthur Rimbaud, Charles Baudelaire, Jack Kerouac, Nietzsche, Joseph Campbell's "The Hero With a Thousand Faces, and James Frazier's "The Golden Bough". In fact, if you look at the contents section of The Golden Bough you will see listed:

L.X. BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH

Part I                      Not to touch the earth

Part II              Not to see the sun

(The next part of the lyrics is "nothing left to do but run, run, run")

He was also heavily influence by Louis-Ferdinand Céline's "Voyage au bout de la nuit" (Journey to the End of the Night), Antonin Artaud (performance-wise), and Elvis Presley.



When I first discovered The Doors I was a thirteen year old girl, armed with a new grasp of the English language and fond of Birkenstocks and Dancing Bear tye-dyed t-shirts. Since I couldn't follow The Doors I ended up following the Grateful Dead (Jerry was amazingly nice) and sold tye-dyed t-shirts and bottles of water to concert goers in order to finance the next ride. Still in the afternoons while I dyed my hands brown (the colours all ran together and gave me bad faux tan before bad faux tan came to be but only on my hands and arms up to the middle of my forearm) I listened to Jim and wrote bad poetry and lamented that I had been born in 1977 (despite 1977 being the year The Clash released their eponymous debut album and that Star Wars came out in theaters).

Though a part of me moved on to The Clash, The Smiths, and other bands without "the" in their names (like R.E.M.), the music of The Doors moves me today more than it did that thirteen year old girl I was. Now I can understand the depth to the songs. They don't seem to address that teenage angst because I no longer have it, but they still move me if only because the songs are such a pleasure to play (especially on vinyl if you can).

Here's a video tribute to Jim and his music, starting with the official ceremony that took place today.

And of course...