A Door, Past and Present

When I was sixteen the Doors, a legendary late 60s to early 70s rock band, came out with their first album which contained the epic single Light My Fire. The year was 1967. I would sing along with Jim Morrison when the song came on the car radio. I found that I could drop my regular speaking voice down a half octave and do a reasonable job on the song; just so long as the car engine and the sound of traffic drowned out the glaring imperfections. A few years later my voice had matured a little and I could do a presentable job singing the Doors' Touch Me. If memory serves me correctly, I actually performed the song in a duet with Morrison in front of a girlfriend, Morrison on the radio, of course.

My imagination has always been able to take me into other dimensions. Back in the late 60s I would listen to Light My Fire and imagine myself fronting the Doors in a giant auditorium of crazed high school students, most of whom being attractive girls. I would not only sing, I would also have a guitar strapped over my shoulders and would play that too. I was both Jim Morrison and Robby Krieger.

It is now 2015. All of the Doors' songs have been remaster and sound terrific. They are readily available for listening on Youtube. No need to do anything other than occasionally remain patient through an annoying, intrusive, 15 second commercial. I do not get Youtube on my car radio so I will listen to the Doors on my home computer. It is equipped with a decent sound system so the remastered songs sound pretty good.

A lot has changed over the years but not the power of my imagination. In 2015 I am still performing Doors music and as always, I sound exactly like the Doors. How could I not sound like them since it is remastered Doors recordings that fuel these flights of fancy. But I am no longer performing with them. I am now in an unnamed band that has an older lady on keyboards, a younger guy on bass, and a younger woman on drums. I think the more youthful woman on drums is a nice touch. It's sort of progressive, in its own way.

In my typical daydreamed concert we are performing at a small venue with a stage in front of several dozen circular tables. The audience is my piers, that is; older people. There is a lot of gray hair and many pairs of bifocals. In fact, before the band dives into song, I, as band spokesman, warn the people, "you'd better be prepared to get hit with some good, old-fashion, energetic rock n' roll because that's what you're are about to hear." I click on the Youtube "play" button and the daydreamed concert begins.

By the end of the second or third song I often envision younger folks stopping to listen. They stand beyond the tables, behind the seated older people. They are obviously impressed, perhaps even overwhelmed, and maybe even shocked that "old stuff" can be so rousing and dynamic.

Once, in a reflective moment, I looked out to the young listeners and saw a familiar face. I could not quite tell for sure but it looked as if he were staring right at me with this terrified look on his face. That kid was me, of course, forty-three years ago. Sorry to disappoint you kid.