The coun­try music clas­sic “I’ve Been Every­where” was first record­ed by Lucky Starr in Aus­tralia in 1962, then lat­er adapt­ed by Hank Snow, var­i­ous oth­er artists, and even­tu­al­ly the great John­ny Cash. The lyrics begin:

I was tot­ing my pack along the dusty Win­nemuc­ca road
When along came a semi with a high an’ can­vas-cov­ered load
“If you’re goin’ to Win­nemuc­ca, Mack, with me you can ride.”
And so I climbed into the cab and then I set­tled down inside
He asked me if I’d seen a road with so much dust and sand
And I said, “Lis­ten, I’ve trav­eled every road in this here land!”

I’ve been every­where, man
I’ve been every­where, man
Crossed the desert’s bare, man
I’ve breathed the moun­tain air, man
Of trav­el I’ve had my share, man
I’ve been every­where

I’ve been to:
Reno, Chica­go, Far­go, Min­neso­ta
Buf­fa­lo, Toron­to, Winslow, Sara­so­ta
Wichi­ta, Tul­sa, Ottawa, Okla­homa
Tam­pa, Pana­ma, Mat­tawa, La Palo­ma
Ban­gor, Bal­ti­more, Sal­vador, Amar­il­lo
Tocopil­la, Bar­ran­quil­la, and Padil­la, I’m a killer

I’ve been to:
Boston, Charleston, Day­ton, Louisiana
Wash­ing­ton, Hous­ton, Kingston, Texarkana
Mon­terey, Fara­day, San­ta Fe, Tal­lapoosa
Glen Rock, Black Rock, Lit­tle Rock, Oskaloosa
Ten­nessee, Ten­nessee, Chicopee, Spir­it Lake
Grand Lake, Dev­il’s Lake, Crater Lake, for Pete’s sake

And that’s not all of the loca­tions the nar­ra­tor trav­els to. If you chart and con­nect all of the des­ti­na­tions men­tioned in the song — as Iain Mul­lan has done in this handy, dynam­ic map — you’ll find that the singer cov­ers some 112,515 miles (or 181,075 kilo­me­ters). Even bet­ter, you can watch the trav­els take place in real-time on a Google map. Just click play, and you will be on your way.

For more trav­els on a Google map, don’t miss our recent post:

Jack Kerouac’s On The Road Turned Into Google Dri­ving Direc­tions & Pub­lished as a Free eBook

Last fall, our read­ers loved watch­ing Iron Horse, a blue­grass band from Alaba­ma, per­form­ing a most unusu­al ver­sion of Metal­li­ca’s “Enter Sand­man.” The band’s take on Metal­li­ca’s anthem was orig­i­nal­ly record­ed on the 2003 album, Fade to Blue­grass: Trib­ute to Metal­li­ca, where Iron Horse — with Tony Robert­son on man­dolin, Vance Hen­ry on gui­tar, Ricky Rogers on bass, and Antho­ny Richard­son on ban­jo — played Metal­li­ca hits in blue­grass fash­ion — “or at least as blue­grass as it’s pos­si­ble for Metal­li­ca songs to be.”

This Jan­u­ary, the quar­tet released a new video, this time cov­er­ing “Rock­et Man.” Sung by Elton John in ’72, writ­ten by Bernie Taupin, and inspired by a Ray Brad­bury sto­ry, Rock­et Man has been covered/performed by Cold­play, Kate Bush, My Morn­ing Jack­et and many oth­ers. But, if you have a score­card, you’ll almost cer­tain­ly give Iron Horse top marks for cre­ativ­i­ty and orig­i­nal­i­ty. Hope you enjoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Blue­grass Ver­sion of Metallica’s Heavy Met­al Hit, “Enter Sand­man”

Robert Plant and Ali­son Krauss Sing Coun­try Ver­sions of Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” & “When the Lev­ee Breaks”

Pak­istani Musi­cians Play Amaz­ing Ver­sion of Dave Brubeck’s Jazz Clas­sic, “Take Five”

Do they look a bit scruffy, the Doors on live Dan­ish TV in 1968? My image of the Doors is for­ev­er col­ored by Oliv­er Stone’s The Doors. But the real Jim Mor­ri­son had even bet­ter hair than his dop­pel­gänger Val Kilmer (“not a case of cast­ing,” quoth Ebert, “but of pos­ses­sion”), even if the above per­for­mance is less Lizard King than lounge lizard. John Dens­more lays back on the beat, gets out the way of Morrison’s free asso­cia­tive poet­ry. Gui­tarist Rob­bie Krieger riffs intent­ly, looks sub­dued. Always the one to watch, the recent­ly depart­ed Ray Man­zarek plays hyp­not­ic base­lines with his left hand while his right dances around melod­ic blue note phras­es. It’s a very cool show, but the lack of an audi­ence is pal­pa­ble.

Mor­ri­son was at his best, and prob­a­bly also worst, before crowds of admir­ers. He has no lack of them in anoth­er ’68 per­for­mance, this time at the Hol­ly­wood Bowl. Where the Dan­ish gig is cabaret, this is a shaman­is­tic hap­pen­ing: Mor­ri­son wears some­thing like a sleeve­less toreador’s jack­et and the band plays loud, espe­cial­ly Dens­more, who bash­es his drums like John Bon­ham. Jim Mor­ri­son seems entranced, and real­ly stoned. Dens­more lat­er said he’d just dropped acid: “I could tell once we hit the stage because his move­ments, his per­for­mance, was a lit­tle delib­er­ate; a lit­tle like he was hold­ing it togeth­er. But he was fan­tas­tic.”

The Hol­ly­wood Bowl is the show to see. It was a mag­i­cal night. It was a big deal to play the Hol­ly­wood Bowl. We were all so excit­ed. We’d had din­ner with Mick Jag­ger just before the show and he was right in the front. For any fan of The Doors — young or old — this is real­ly the way it was; this is the way to see what it was all about.

In nei­ther of these con­certs is Mor­ri­son quite the unhinged mani­ac of leg­end, but things, as they say, had already begun to unrav­el. Two years lat­er the band would play its last show with Mor­ri­son at The Ware­house in Decem­ber of 1970. Some believe the Doors peaked in 1967 and nev­er topped their debut (a “stoned, immac­u­late clas­sic” and the dark under­bel­ly of Sgt. Pep­per’s sun­ny psy­che­delia). I don’t buy that at all. But even if these shows catch them on the start of a decline, it was a long slow burn, and beau­ti­ful to watch.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Doors Key­boardist Ray Man­zarek (1939–2013) Tells the Sto­ry of the Clas­sic Song, ‘Rid­ers on the Storm’

“The Lost Paris Tapes” Pre­serves Jim Morrison’s Final Poet­ry Record­ings from 1971

A Young, Clean Cut Jim Mor­ri­son Appears in a 1962 Flori­da State Uni­ver­si­ty Pro­mo Film

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness