I Know You Deepest Secret Fear

I love The Doors. And, yes, I know they’re corny. I know they’re ridiculous. I know they’re easily mockable. I know they take themselves too seriously. I know their lyrics are not always as smart as they think they are. I know all these things and I love this band anyway.

The thing I love about them most is hard to explain. But I feel like everyone is standing a little farther apart than they ought to be. Like they’re just on the verge of not being able to rightly hear where the other musicians are in the song. Like, if you need to stand less than, say, six feet apart in order to keep up with each other, they’re all standing just over six feet apart. There’s a way that everything in every song sounds a tiny bit behind. And yet, if everything is a tiny bit behind, then it’s not really behind, you know? But I just feel like time moves differently in a Doors song, like a Doors minute has 60.5 seconds in it instead of 60.

That “The Spy” is a four minute Doors song that we experience as being four minutes and fourteen seconds.

You know what I mean? The Doors are kind of trippy. They’ve got their own time and space. When you make the journey over, it’s a pleasant mind-fuck to try to reconcile the differences.

9 thoughts on “I Know You Deepest Secret Fear

  1. Eh. I was around when they started, listened to them through the end of grade school and all through high school, and I think that some of their mystique/adoration is because he died so young, just like Cobain and others. I really don’t understand why suicide makes someone, even a somewhat talented someone, a romantic figure.

  2. ha, nm! I just remember when I was in high school (or somewhere in that time period) when I watched a Chicago newscaster recite, in his monotone voice, the lyrics…c’cmonc’cmonc’monc’cmonnowtouchmebabeIcanyouseethayouarenotafraid…my parents were shocked, my older brother and I were trying not to let them see us laughing. And then they used to show all the photos of the young men who had been killed in Vietnam that week, so there’s a little weird slice of history.

    I still don’t like JM so much, but that is a touchstone for my teenage years, I still laugh about it.

  3. You guys just don’t understand the great burden it is for a man–an artist–when his penis wants to sing.

    Have some sympathy here.

    You just explained every Internet argument ever, madam. Especially at Pith.

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