Thursday, 3 July 2014

Rest in Peace, Big Jim

Rock god Jim Morrison died on this day in 1971 (two years to the day after Brian Jones). My friend the Sage of Tiverton and I - then young and foolish- paid due tribute to Jim in the recording booth that then stood on Victoria station. This was a remarkable - and I think quite short-lived - institution (I wonder if anyone else remembers it?), not unlike a photo booth in outward appearance. You put some money in the slot, entered the booth - two people could just about squeeze in - and belted out your song, which would eventually emerge in the form of a seven-inch vinyl disc.
 Our tribute to Jim Morrison was not a first offence, but it's the only one of which I remember the words. They went, I fear, like this:
'Rest in peace, Jim Morrison.
Rest in peace, Jim Morrison.
Rest in peace, Jim Morrison.
Rest in peace, Big Jim.'
Eloquent stuff, eh? I believe we might have had a few stimulants before the session began. The chief interest of the recording lay in its energetic percussive effects, achieved by slapping and drumming on the walls of the booth. Happily, the disc was soon lost and gone, like so much else...
 Morrison, we now know, was assassinated by a shadowy cell of rogue CIA black ops spooks, acting under the personal command of The Man, who had by this time had more than enough of having it stuck to him.


  1. All my illusions are shattered Nige. There was me, thinking of you as such an august and venerable eminence... and you were a ..........I can hardly bring myself to say intoxicant-crazed hippy! You may not hear from me for a while. I've got a lot of thinking to do.

  2. Never a hippy Guy! There are limits even to the folly of youth...

  3. Not wishing to speak ill of the dead, but I've long thought that Big Jim (RIP) and his Doors are the most overrated of the 60s heroes. A few great songs mind (esp People Are Strange).

    I'd dearly love to hear your drug-addled hippy recordings, Nige. I'll bet they're somewhere - have you had a proper hunt around in the attic?

  4. Believe me Brit, they do not exist - and I'm inclined to agree about Big Jim. A little goes a long way...
    Hey, wait a minute - I was NOT a hippy! I'd have self-identified as a Freak - a v different kettle of fish. You had to be there (they tell me).