On the 50th anniversary of Jim Morrison’s passing – frontman of The Doors and cultural figure of the sixties – many will commemorate the impact that his presence had on an entire generation of the Vietnam protesting youth. But, is there anything beyond the voice or is it a classic case of being at the right place at the right time?
A face that was plastered on the walls as one of the go-to pinups will never be forgotten in the public psyche. However, this gets in the way of a sober look at his legacy.
Morrison’s passing comes two years after the successful performance of the Woodstock festival. A concert propped up as the ultimate watershed moment for music, culture, and American celebration. It’s more fitting to remember the show that took place four months after Woodstock, the Altamont Speedway Free Festival.
The Rolling Stones made the mistake of hiring a notorious biker gang, Hell’s Angels, resulting in death at a peace and love concert. Occuring in Northern California, the show couldn’t be more opposite from the hippie campground in New York. Similarly, Morrison was somewhat of an outlier within his era. While he was out of sync with his military father, who was on the Gulf Of Tolkien, there was still a driving force within him to push the boundaries of psychedelic rock outside its folk rock roots. This is arguably Morrison’s greatest contribution with The Doors, who would rather be remembered for their resonance with the counterculture movement.
The band emerged as the dark side of the sixties, contrasting with the boy band sentimentality of The Beatles and in less time. Within 5 years, it was all over and there weren’t many bands from that era that could testify. Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane infamously said, “I don’t miss anything about the 1960s,” after retiring from performing because, “All rock-and-rollers over the age of 50 look stupid and should retire.”
It makes sense why a decade built on decadence wouldn’t last long. The debauchery brought great songs and incredible concerts. It also created self destructive behaviour that destroyed the people we like. Ironically, those who experienced it first hand insist on not divorcing the lifestyle with the music. Overtime, the mystique starts to wear off and ending a career in self indulgence doesn’t have the same appeal half a century later.
The Me Generation was served up to Morrison on a silver platter and he ruled the U.S. by living on his own terms of excess. Yet, he couldn’t survive his own wonderland. For the first time in the industry’s history, bands had more authority and freedom over their music with impunity. By the end of the decade, half the bands were dissolved and most of the Rolling Stone cover models were dead.
During a trip in Paris with his girlfriend Pam, Morrison was found dead in his bathtub after an overdose. Despite no autopsy being performed, there was a lot leading to his death that left little room for shock. The success of L.A. Woman didn’t overshadow the legal troubles consuming Morrison and his impending jail sentence after another concert disaster.
His status grew to martyrdom after joining the 27 club, elevating his legacy to new heights. Yet, this doesn’t add much depth to what he already did prior to his escape from the United States. It creates mystery and curiosity, but only among fans who were already sold to begin with. Not much glory in the long run.
Morrison’s death is part of a body count that starts with Brian Jones, soon followed by Meredith Hunter and becomes a pattern with Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin. The end of the sixties was already underway by the time Woodstock was completed and all the decadence of the decade collapsed under its own weight.
Robert Christgau affirmed that critics, “focus on Altamont not because it brought on the end of an era but because it provided such a complex metaphor for the way an era ended.” In the end, Morrison outlived most of his peers before falling from the public eye as the sixties came to a close and left its legacy dazed and confused.
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