We love it—who doesn’t?—when a few words express a great deal. Who has time for novels? Let’s extract wisdom from words in a minute, and live.
In Scarriet March Madness Round One in the Song bracket, we have this great piece of work from the Doors:
Send my credentials to the house of detention.
Jim Morrison, the lead singer of the band, who passed away at 27 in Paris, is no doubt their author, though the group often gave “The Doors” songwriting credits.
But how perfect is this!
“Send…” I’m too lazy to do it myself.
“Credentials.” The key to societal advancement.
“House of detention.” Send my credentials there.
No wonder Morrison died early. The work the Doors produced in their brief life made Jim Morrison immortal. He is still as popular fifty years later. He knew it. There was nothing left to do. Credentials were no longer needed. There was no longer any need to be detained.
The Doors lived in an age of increasing license, where being loose and dirty was not yet completely acceptable—the truly thrilling vector they were on was the breaking open of everything. Morrison couldn’t turn back and simply delight in the joys of Alabama, for instance. The Alabama Song by Brecht/Weil, yes. The Doors covered that song. (“O show me the way to the next whiskey bar/pretty girl”)
But not this one.
We kissed in a field of white. And stars fell on Alabama. Last night.
In 2002, “Stars fell on Alabama” was put on Alabama license plates. There was an actual meteor shower in 1833 which inspired the lyrics.
“Last night” is a concept beyond Morrison. For him, and the Baudelaire 60s, everything was now.
Last night someone sent my credentials to the house of detention.
That doesn’t work. This does:
Send my credentials to the house of detention.
The Doors advance.
A smattering of stoned applause.
