The Doors
Strange Days

THE REVIEW

"Strange days... have found us..."
The start of my journey coincides with the beginning of the Doors' CD. An atmosphere like a haunted house with a voice that seems to sing through a megaphone underwater. Scream. The bass and drums compete to see who is more sophisticated, more beautiful. The awareness that once you enter a "strange day," you will never leave it, you can only get used to the change of scene. Without thinking there could be a way back.

"You're lost little girl..."
The fairy tale song, the dreamy guitar, the bass that feels like a tear rolling down the face, then off through the countryside on a custom motorcycle, amidst blooming leaves and poppies, with the sun you could switch on and off like a giant lamp, suddenly the voice disappears, leaving only the scent of sun mixed with mud, and the voice comes back, it resumes raining impossible light "Yes but it's true..." entering with both feet into an impossible dream...

"You're lost..."

Silence.
Noise.
So much noise.
Energetic guitar riff introducing a revisited and rethought sexual encounter.

"Love me two times, one for tomorrow one just for today..."

The acquiescent girl who no longer speaks lets herself be carried away by your erotic fantasy pushed to the limits of the physical, but it really seems that the song is just another little song, a song with a pathetic and predictable text.
A small moment of energy with little lyricism.
But it is always a beautiful blues.

Then the fairy tale from before resumes, this time from the avenue we reach the lake, there's a party, everyone is smoking, and you are still unhappy, "Unhappy Girl", what more do you want, someone created this heavenly music for you, you believe you can elevate yourself to icon status when you're just a target and you should be happy, girl, not unhappy, there is a whole world of little guitars and distortions invented just for you, just get lost in the middle of the storm, between the "Horse Latitudes" of track 5, a foretaste of the American prayers of a few years later. Between rally storm and piano sounds suited to the environment which decays, bewildered, overwhelmed by itself. A utopian president of the United States, the psychedelic celebrations after having sailed a bit towards the most intense drive-in nature can offer, the vision of the moon reached, climbed, and longed for, accompanied by a passenger to spur and encourage, scared but curious, the roar of a silvery river leading to the most beautiful star in the sky, the waves on the side propelling you upwards, Ray looking at you from behind his glasses and saying "no fear, I handle the not very special and exciting effects, because I am sadder than you".

And you, the ticket for the journey, emotions included, have purchased it by sweating through a phase of post-adolescence spent at home.

Then the masterpiece.
A voice climbing the wall of the most hidden perceptions, those insights that make you feel so alien and less human, those planks of parquet ripped from the ground hanging onto your senses, standing in the middle of a current you cannot ford...

"When you're strange, no one remembers your name..."

This was "People Are Strange", meanwhile, you intermittently realize you are in the world and therefore have seen "My eyes have seen you..." certainly always in the semi-darkness of that infinite parabola of silences and winks, in those stairs that seem to lead somewhere but in reality are tumbles and somersaults towards the already thought... and then you want to scream!

But who made me take a journey that must end, I had paid the ticket for infinity, here they conned me, the record has tired me, I don't hear it anymore.