a version he says not many do so well.
Whenever I hear Morrison's piece, I am overcome by an unspeakable sadness. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he died young, but probably also with the indirect feeling of what made him personally wretched. Behind this, it seems to me, a despair can be discerned that might have been related to the unfreedom he experienced. At least that is what I think.
The touching artists who brought excellent music into the world, who chose this form of expression, who were addicted to drugs, seem to have testified to a pain that many people share.
In many phases of my life I have not been able to understand this and wondered where this dark pain of the artists' souls might come from. Mistakenly, as I see it now, I interpreted the excessive life of musicians as their personal problem. In fact, I think differently now.
People have such different shades and perceptions of the feeling of freedom, and those who are particularly sensitive to the environment that oppresses them transform their grief into the music they create, into their poetry, which is not always immediately recognisable as such. Because the musical characters are so colourful and diverse, they come across as provocative, blatant, impertinent or otherwise extreme. But such things are inevitably part of art: the exaggeration of the experienced innermost in order to share such things.
it reflects the urgent inner life and thus reaches many of us who feel instantly addressed. Or else they feel repulsed, disgusted or overwhelmed.
On the other hand, how good it is that we don't all have the same feelings at the same time. A field of the same and the same sensations is difficult because it drags along many who have actually just taken a different path. It creates big holes in the fabric of self-confidence and trust in oneself and the world. Experiencing things in a time-delayed way means not cutting off the rhythm of one's life.
And a rhythm, it shall be.
Enjoy or cry:
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out alone
Riders on the storm
There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If ya give this man a ride
Sweet family will die
Killer on the road, yeah
Girl, ya gotta love your man
Girl, ya gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Gotta love your man, yeah
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Source: LyricFind
Songwriter: John Densmore / Ray Manzarek / Robby Krieger / James Morrison
Songtext von Riders on the Storm © Wixen Music Publishing
