The Doors, a double whammy - ‘If the doors of perception were cleansed, All things would appear … infinite’ – Blake then a book-title by Aldous Huxley.
This is a brazen opening move on my part, I'm sure.
Playing off the double whammy comment and oh, so much more.
(I just found this thread and looked and listened my way through all six pages. Joy. Camus, I think your thread was calling me to break on through from the other side of the Atlantic...)
And the drummer is a prop.
Last edited by Wilcken on Thu Mar 08, 2012 12:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
And the same recording I own, performed at Mountain Stage back in the 90s. A great album, matter of fact. I love the bit at the end about his environmentally sound guitar solo. And that was 20 years ago. He's always been several steps ahead of the rest.
This next one connects back to cover songs, if you will, Woody's work finished by Billy and Wilco. Also one of those things, the relationship between a man and his horse.
To the rich man´s bright lodges I ride in this wind On my good horse I call you my shiny Black Bess To the playhouse of fortune to take the bright silver An gold you have taken from somebody else
And as we go riding in the damp foggy midnight You snort, my good pony, and you give me your best For you know, and I know, good horse ´mongst the rich ones How oftimes we go there an unwelcome guest
I´ve never took food from the widows and orphans And never a hard working man I oppressed So take your pace easy, for home soon like lightening We soon will be riding, my shiny Black Bess
No fat rich man´s pony can ever overtake you And there´s not a rider from the east to the west Could hold you a light in this dark mist and midnight When the potbellied thieves chase their unwelcome guest
I don´t know good horse, As we trot in this dark here That robbing the rich is for worse or for best They take it by stealing and lying and gambling And I take it my way, my shiny Black Bess
I treat horses good and I´m friendly to strangers I ride and your running makes my guns talk the best And the rangers and deputies are hired by the rich man To catch me and hang me, my shining Black Bess
Yes, they´ll catch me napping one day and they´ll kill me And then I´ll be gone but that won´t be my end For my guns and my saddle will always be filled By unwelcome travellers and other brave men
And they´ll take the money and spread it out equal Just like the Bible and the prophets suggest But the man that go riding to help these poor workers The rich will cut down like an unwelcome guest