So, there’s a heatwave thing going on in Britain at the moment. No doubt Tesco have run out of disposable barbecues while ice-trays are getting their first real use of the year. Doctor Who‘s latest series ended with a corker of an finale on Saturday night. Other such capery things are going on, but I’m not here to talk about any of that meaningless drivel.
It’s just gone 1am here, I’m meant to be up at 7am and yet here I am wide awake, typing furiously with That’s Entertainment! III muted on the TV. Why muted, I hear you ask? Well, I will tell you.
I think there’s something weird with my iPod. It doesn’t get used much over the weekend and when I went to check the battery, it seemed to be totally dead. This happened a couple of weeks ago but I didn’t realise until too late on Monday and I was music-less for a horrible day. Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that I went to iTunes while it’s charging. Got I’m Walking Backwards For Christmas and the Ying Tong song cos I was reading a Spike Milligan book earlier and I was reminded of them.
I’ve discovered that iTunes has music videos on it. I don’t use it much because I already own a lot of the music I wanna hear. So I’m mucking about, looking through the videos. Jeff Buckley, Nick Drake, a few others. Then ‘Roadhouse Blues’ by a little band called the Doors.
Weird thing about the Doors: I’m unused to seeing them in video. I own Doors videos, but I don’t seem to watch them much. Maybe it’s because they’re all cobbled together from the same 5 minutes of footage garnered before Jim died. Let us not forget that they weren’t just pre-MTV, they were pre-Bohemian Rhapsody. There’s not much in the way of Doors footage, and the videos made in the 80s use the same bits over and over again. I also don’t feel the need to watch American police kicking the shit out of people over and over again.
I forgot how beautiful that Jim Morrison bloke was. I mean, I know what he looked like. I know the contours of his face, the lines of his skin and the curls of his hair about as well as I know my own face. I’ve seen it often enough on album covers and the pictures scattered haphazardly throughout my life.
I’d forgotten how beautiful he was. I mean, I stoped thinking of him solely on those terms such a long time ago that I forget that other people think he’s beautiful, but they don’t go much further. And that’s cool- he’s hardly to everyone’s taste musically.
Thing about this video thing though, it’s a much more complete image of the guy than anything else. We’re always only going to get fragments, but this is about as complete as you might find now. And he’s beautiful, a real fucked-up dark angel of rock and roll. You know why? He fucking knows it. Every move that boy made said “I know I’m great, I know I’m a genius and I’m just letting you, just mere and insignificant mortals, in on the joke for a while.”
I know I’ve got an arrogant walk, I know that I walk around like I own the world, but he was on a different plane of existence altogether. No matter how out of control he looks, flinging himself around, throwing himself on the ground, you better believe he’s in absolute control. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he knows that it’ll drive we mortals crazy. I’ve long believed that beauty, charm and charisma are more about believing it within your own self that the relatively unimportant aesthetic element, and this is why. If you walk like you own the world, talk like you’re master of the universe, people will believe you.
If you’re Jim Morrison, mercurial and brilliant, it’s a piece of cake. That’s why Morrison was beautiful and that’s why he’s lasted so long beyond his death. He knew he was a fucking marvel and told us so. That’s what makes him the kind of beauty you can’t tear your gaze from, the kind of beauty that imprints itself on your mind, never to fade. Cockiness, mate.
Must be nice to be that confident. Not that it tells the whole story of course- nobody drinks like he did because they completely believe they’re the master of the universe. Nobody acts like him if they know they’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Ironic, innit, that the most confident looking amongst us are usually the ones tearing themselves up inside. Ironic.