The Doors- Roadhouse Blues / You Make Me Real

Somehow, in the long, proud, and occasionally chaotic history of this blog, I managed to skip over one of the greatest bands of all time—The Doors. Yes, really. It’s like writing a food blog and forgetting pizza exists. How did I miss Jim and the boys? Was I distracted? Was I temporarily replaced by a pod person? We may never know.

Blame my grandfather for my love of the Doors—in the best possible way. During one of our legendary flea market expeditions (where you go in looking for treasure and leave with…mystery cords and a lamp shaped like a fish), he handed me a Doors album. That was it. No dramatic speech, no warning label—just “Here, try this.” I never looked back. I also never trusted flea markets the same way again—they change you.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: there are two types of people—Doors lovers (me) and Doors haters. There is no neutral ground. You don’t just casually listen to The Doors. You either vibe with Jim Morrison’s poetic chaos or you’re sitting there wondering if he’s about to summon something and you wish he would just STOP.

For me, “Roadhouse Blues”—technically the B-side—was always the main event. And it contains one of the greatest lyrics ever written: “I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer.”

Now, do I have a philosophical explanation for why that line is genius? Absolutely not. Does it align with my personal beliefs? Not even close. Do I recommend that lifestyle? Definitely not. In fact, (my public service announcement for this week) if that’s your morning routine, please reach out to someone for help—maybe not Jim Morrison.

But still…there’s something about that line. It’s brutally honest. It’s simple. It’s…alarmingly efficient storytelling. Of course, it also hints at the reality of Jim’s life, which wasn’t exactly a wellness retreat. It’s kind of wild to imagine what would’ve happened if The Doors had lasted as long as The Rolling Stones. Then again, knowing their history, that idea feels about as realistic as Jim Morrison hosting a morning talk show.

And honestly, if he had stuck around that long, you have to wonder if John, Robbie, and Ray could’ve kept him in line…or if they’d have collectively lost their minds and started a support group. I watched an interview Billy Corgan did with Robbie Krieger, and at one point Billy starts talking about No One Gets Out of Here Alive — you know, the Doors book that basically turned every teenager into a temporary mystic. He says it opened his eyes to the authors Jim Morrison devoured, and I had to laugh because it did the same thing to me. One minute I’m reading about the Doors, and the next I’m knee‑deep in Kerouac and Huxley, like I tripped into a literary swamp where every author is yelling “Expand your mind!” while I’m just trying to find my shoes. And somehow that wild writing grabbed me by the collar and said, “We’re doing this forever now,” and honestly, I haven’t looked back since.

But back to the music—because that’s what keeps pulling me in. There’s just something magical about those 1960s Elektra white label promos. They don’t just play music—they practically dare you to go digging for more. And I’m only missing a few Doors promo 45 pieces now, which means one thing:

Time to dive back into the crates…because apparently my self-control is still out on tour.