I realise that my favourite album by The Doors changes fairly regularly. It was Morrison Hotel, then L.A. Woman, then Morrison Hotel, Strange Days, L.A. Woman, Morrison Hotel, L.A. Woman and so on and so forth. When chatting to a good friend of mine recently he named this one as his favourite, while I was saying Strange Days. I don’t think he’s wrong. I don’t think I’m right. That’s the thing about music.
When I read the news yesterday morning that Ray Manzarek had passed on Monday, I was both deeply saddened and desperate to listen to his playing. I chose a random selection of songs. Those that are truly immersed in the Dionysian spirit. Where he revels in his pal Jim’s shamanism. Today I had the urge to listen to Morrison Hotel. Where his playing is subtler, yet no less integral to each of the songs. The foundation, you could say.
So yeah. While I can never claim to have met the man, he had a hand in shaping my musical tastes.