The Doors
“Ride the snake!” – Jim Morrison
“Hey, Jim, could you
expose yourself for us? Pleeeeeaaaaze? We
very much enjoy the big, sloppy dick.” – The student body of
“Those songs rock HARD!!!” – Al
Albums Reviewed:
The Doors were a darn good little ‘60’s rock
band. In their five year existence, they
splurged out six albums, two of which are jaw-dropping masterpieces (and
neither of which is the debut! Ha! That’s THREE you’re gonna have to go get once
you’re done reading this page! I’m such
a little bitch!), and all but one of which are quite good. They knew how to write a good little pop
ditty, for sure, and I like good little pop ditties, but what makes the Doors
so interesting is the ARRANGEMENTS, you see, and the lyrics, and the general
atmosphere of the band. They were very,
um…unique. No
one sounded like them during their time, and no one since has really sounded
like them either.
Looking at the lineup, we can see
why. First, start off with drummer John
Densmore (far right in your picture). He
brought an obvious jazz influence to the table, which gave a lot of their songs
a little extra bounce for your buck.
Next, move onto guitarist Robbie Krieger (second from left), and his
blues/rock licks. Now, add to those
ingredients a BIG ol’ dash of keyboardist Ray Manzarek (far left), whose
cabaret or carnival-esque (or whatever you want to call them) organs, pianos,
harpsichords, and whatnot were probably the most visible ingredient in their
sound, and what REALLY made them so unique.
I’ve yet to hear another keyboardist who sounds REMOTELY like Ray
Manzarek. Now, this is a nice little pot
of stew you’ve got going here, but then toss in the ICON that is Jim Morrison
(up front, as always) and you’ve got yourself a pretty good casserole. His poetic rantings (“The End?” “The Soft
Parade?”), larger than life (or at least larger than me, but not MUCH larger,
mind you) sexual persona, and his general aura really made the image of the
band what it is, even though Manzarek provided a lot of the musical definition
(at least to me). Plus he had a really
unique, low, forceful voice (as opposed to an elfin-high, ear-splittingly awful
voice, like Geddy Lee). And there you
have it. That’s a damn fascinating
quartet, if you axe me.
And, oh, did you notice I never
mentioned a bass player? That’s because
THEY DIDN’T HAVE ONE. On their records,
I’m pretty sure they had session men do the basswork (so it’s not all that
stunning, but who needs it when you’ve got crazy Ray’s keyboards?), and in
concert Manzarek HIMSELF would somehow (I don’t know the specifics of EXACTLY
how) play bass with his keyboards, or something. That’s a fun fact for ya. Now, onto the reviews!
The Doors (1967)
Rating: 8
Best Song: “Light My Fire”
Like many really, really, really ridiculously historically important albums, the Doors’ debut is overrated. I’m not denying its historical importance, mind you. It has more historical impact in its left pinkie toe than the Doors’ other five albums combined. But who cares? It’s not nearly as good as two of the band’s other records, though I’d probably rate it third in Jim Morrison and the Long And Slithering Fucked-Up Keyboard Break Quartet’s output. It’s still got some GREAT songs, even if it’s not as consistent as some of their later material (i.e. their two super diddly duper masterpieces).
But, oh hoochie mama and a string bean, does it have some CLASSICS! Have you heard “Break On Through?” Oh, you have, that’s right, never mind. What a great song, even if classic rock radio programmers should give some of its excess airtime to “L.A. Woman.” It’s also a perfect way to start the Doors’ career. I mean, the power, the rebellious energy! YEEAHHHHH! If you were to ever to put all of a band’s albums side by side, play them in a long chain, and come out with one way-too-fucking-long UBER-album, these guys would probably come out with the best-sequenced one of the bunch. I mean, a PERFECT way to start and a PERFECT (which I’ll get to later) way to end! Sweet!
Oh, but how ‘bout some other classics? You’ve heard “Light My Fire” on classic rock radio as well, I presume? Well, those asshole butt-pirates should play the FULL version next time, because the seven-minute album version of the song is ORGASMIC. Personally, the single edit would be my favorite song here even if it got stuck on like that, but the Manzarek keyboard solos! The Kreiger guitar solos! The Densmore perfectly acceptable yet unspectacular drumming! What a song this be, yes sirree! Good way to finish out the first side, too, most of which is quite solid, if not as spectacular as the two aforementioned overplayed ditties. How about “Soul Kitchen?” Now THAT is a good, solid ‘60’s rock and roll song, just like *drum roll*…*triumphant horn blasts*… “Twentieth Century Fox!” The opening part of “The Crystal Ship” kind of annoys me, specifically the “before you slip into unconsciousness” line, just too stupid ballad-y for me, but the piano work once the song comes in full force MORE than makes up for it. So, therefore, side 1 is really really great! But WAIT! I forgot one tune, “Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar),” which is a completely useless and silly cover that really has NO PLACE WHATSOEVER on this record here, especially considering all the but one of the albums that followed it were about ten minutes shorter than this one. Why not lop it off? I dunno. The oompa-loompa tuba thing going on makes me want to go slap on some lederhosen, grab an accordion, and stuff my face with bratwurst and big, fat, juicy SAUSAGE. Mmmmm…sausage.
And the second half’s not as good, by the way, in case you were wondering. “Backdoor Man” is a nice blues cover, but it seems a bit out of place on here (though not as out of place as “The Alabama Polka Surprise”). Where are the odd, funny keyboard-driven pop songs? Oh, here we go, “I Looked At You” is a keyboard-driven pop song! SWEET! Oh, shit, never mind, it’s not that great. You know why? It’s not ODD. I don’t want no happy pop from the Doors. I want DARK, CREEPY SHIT about freaks and (possibly) geeks. “End Of The Night” is nice and creepy. It doesn’t really go anywhere, though, and then “Take It As It Comes” has the same problem as “I Looked At You.” It’s too generic for a band like this. But OOOOOOOOO! That album closer, “The End!” Now THAT is some prime level horse poop! Sure, it’s eleven minutes long and has about as many different themes as my asscrack (i.e. one), but the main theme isn’t smelly, brown, and caked on. It’s GOOD! Krieger plays one creepy-as-shit guitar line at the beginning, and doesn’t really alter it all that much, but it’s so cool he DOESN’T HAVE TO. The west is INDEED the best (in the N.B.A. at least), I’ll ride the snake as long as I have to, and, oh, mother? I…WANT TO…FUCK YOU!!!!
Oh, sorry, excuse me, I was inhabited by the ghost of a drugged-out poet who liked to expose himself in public and write long, meandering songs that don’t go anywhere but nevertheless RULE. And no, I DON’T mean Jim Morrison, I mean Jon Anderson (despite the fact that he’s not dead). He flashed me on a subway once, and I don’t think I’ll ever shake that awful image from my mind…
Oh, never mind, fuck that, it was my old school chum Dave Haddow who flashed me his teeny tiny wee-wee. If you ever see him, tell him two things for me. First, tell him he’s a fat angry piece of shit anarchist psychotic cocksucking dogfucker. Then, tell him this record is damn good, but nevertheless overrated. I mean, a blues cover? A few generic pop songs? A tune straight from the soundtrack to OKTOBERFEST?? Eh. Great album, no doubt, but not an absolute must-have classic by any means, no matter how much “Light My Fire” rocks.
Strange Days (1967)
Rating: 10
Best Song: “When The Music’s Over”
The All Music Guide, despite being an invaluable resource for us web reviewers, is nevertheless a stupid chunk of dung. Why, you ask? Well, they give this record, a no-doubt, absolutely brilliant must-have CLASSIC and the Doors’ best effort, THREE stars, as opposed to five for the debut, and say it sounds tossed-off from outtakes from the debut record’s sessions. My ASS! And, just in case you don’t trust the opinion of your fine, feathered friend Brad, just take a quick hop skiddle-dee doo over to my links page. Because of the first five links on that page, ALL FIVE (Mark Prindle, George “The Russian Rocket” Starostin, Nick Karn, John “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” McFerrin and CapnMarvel) rate this one as better than the debut, and the first four give it a perfect score and call it, unquestionably, the Doors’ best. And CapnMarvel rates it as co-best with L.A. Woman, which is pretty much right on the money as well. You see, you may distrust these crazy web reviewing types, but when EVERYONE agrees on something, chances are it JUST MIGHT be correct.
But don’t ask all of those people, even if they’re smarter than me. Ask ME! And I’ll tell you the same thing. This is not just a great record, it’s a must-have record that ANYONE who has the debut MUST HAVE a copy of, no questions asked. It’s quite similar to the debut, but there’s no more covers (neither the polka nor the blues variety) and no more dumb pansy stuff like “I Looked At You.” It’s the pinnacle of “Doors-ness,” if you catch my drift. Just WEIRD. Eight superb little pop songs, all of which are a few jimmies short of a satisfactory ice cream cone, a scary spoken-word interlude, and a long, meandering “The End”-ish tune to end it which manages to OUT-END “The End!”
And, if
you’re one of those people who simply MUST have their radio classics, because
you’re a slave to the WZLX programmers and believe Tom Petty and
But enough about that, let’s get back to what makes this record so great, and that would be CONSISTENCY. Sheer, mind-numbing, almost IRRITATING consistency. If you throw out “Horse Latitudes” (the spoken word interlude), I mean, you keep going from track to track to track, and EVERY song is a classic. None stand out, but everything just absolutely RULES. “Unhappy Girl?” “My Eyes Have Seen You?” “I Can’t See Your Face In My Mind?” The title track? All absolute classics! I give “When The Music’s Over” the nod for best track simply because it’s about four times longer than anything else on the album, and, with everything being so goddamn even, longer is better! If I were to name my top five Doors songs, I have no doubt that NOTHING from this album would show up on it. However, if I were to go to my top twenty (about a third of the Doors’ with-Jim album catalog, for those math-slow), I’d have to include EVERYTHING (bar “Horse Latitudes” ‘cus it ain’t a song, dig?) in said top twenty. Everything is so good! The only flaw I can find with this album is its length. THIRTY-FOUR MINUTES? Come on. Too short! I want more! I want the world and I want it NOW! The music IS my special friend! When the music’s over, I don’t know WHAT to do, except maybe start the album over again, I guess.
Or, I could “consult the oracle,” if you know what I mean.
Waiting For The Sun (1968)
Rating: 7
Best Song: “Spanish Caravan”
So after their greatest success, The Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors lay down by FAR their weakest album, and it’s really the only true misstep in their catalog. It’s not BAD, per se, and most of the songs on here are perfectly fine, but as a whole they are a MONSTROUS step down from the ditties on Strange Days. The best song on this album (whatever it may be…what did I put? Oh, “Spanish Caravan.” Sure, I guess, it’s got some nice acoustic shit) would be the WORST one on the last album. And, as some people claim, I don’t think it’s because this record is any more normal than the last one. The Doors didn’t go off and become a normal sissy pop band, and it’s just as weird. It’s just a different KIND of weird. Instead of deliciously dark and off-kilter, it’s just off-kilter without being especially dark or interesting.
But I can
see how someone would say “This is boring normal pop! Fark this,” because those people probably
turned the record off after its first two tunes, “Hello, I Love You” and “
Oh, but THEN we get some weirdness, with “Not To Touch The Earth,” which I believe is an excerpt from a super-long extended track called “Celebration Of The Lizard” that the band never stuck on a record. I don’t know why they excerpted it, I mean, the album is only thirty-three minutes long. If they stuck the whole thing on here it’d still be shorter than L.A. Woman and probably make this record a bit more interesting, because it’s so BLAH. Outside of some general weirdness (that usually doesn’t really work), the only things really worth listening to here are a few fun little bits within the songs, like Manzarek’s harpsichord solo in “Wintertime Love,” which RULES, even if the song is nothing to get all worked up and smack a monkey’s bum about.
But the Doors STILL retained the weirdness, as I’ve said, and after “Wintertime Love,” here it comes! Too bad the songs aren’t up to Doors snuff. “The Unknown Soldier” stops for no reason in the middle for Jim to deliver marching “Hut! Hut!” orders that are stupid, stupid, STUPID. And do you know what “My Wild Love” sounds like? Like Native American chants! Specifically, the kind of things I learned about in the WORST COURSE I HAVE EVER TAKEN IN MY LIFE, a core curriculum course called “Soundscapes” about a completely pointless field of study called “ethnomusicology” (invented by people who wanted to study music but couldn’t actually PLAY any instruments worth shit). Hell, I ended up writing one of my final exam essays (four pages of BULLSHIT!) on said Native American tribal chants. Fuck that shit. Anything that reminds me of that awful, awful, awful course deserves to be taken out behind a shed and raped by an inbred hick southern farmer.
You know? It’s funny how I haven’t stopped trashing this thing and yet I still give it a 7. It’s really not that bad (except for “My Wild Ethnomusicology Course”), but it’s just NOT up to the Doors’ standards. When they try weird experiments, even when it comes out really fucking cool (I really do LOVE that acoustic part in “Spanish Caravan,” good stuff), it just seems out of place on a Doors record. When they write “Doors-ish” songs, they’re just mediocre and sound like a band on auto-pilot. Sometimes they’re saved by neat solo sections (Manzarek a few times, a neat little Krieger overdubbed guitar thing in “We Could Be So Good Together”), but, eh, the band can do better than this. It doesn’t even have a long, weird, meandering ending thingy! “Five To One” is supposed be ominous, I think, and it has a cool guitar solo, but whatever Jim and the guys wanted it to accomplish, it DOESN’T. Just like the record. Failed experimentation from a band that really doesn’t know what it wants to do next, but a band still good enough to produce a decent album despite that.
The Soft Parade (1969)
Rating: 8
Best Song: “The Soft Parade”
For this record, in the name of “experimentation,” GUESS what the band did! They hauled in entire STRING AND HORN SECTIONS! Wait, huh? The dark, creepy Doors who made Strange Days just a little while ago are writing full string and horn parts into their songs? Yup, me bucko, they are, and so this is generally looked upon as the weakest Doors outing. But that is generally WRONG, because this oh-so-badly underrated record is not bad at all, thank you very much! Not a classic by any means, but it sounds like the band is TRYING again, after the relative suck-job that was Waiting For The Sun. Sure, this sounds more like a Vegas lounge act than a rock and roll band (Jim sounds like Robert Goulet, Wayne Newton, Tom Jones, or (Nelson Munce’s favorite) Andy Williams (Hey, that was a double parentheses! And this is another one! DUDE! SWEET!)), but so what? The songs are uneven, but much more unique and enjoyable then the last album.
“Tell All The People” sounds the most like a second-rate Atlantic City hotel lounge band of the material here, but it’s good! All horns and violins and over-dramatic Lizard King vocals, but neat! Catchy as my large, monstrous $100 headphones. And “Touch Me?” Yes, sirree, THAT is a CLASSIC song. The first Doors classic since Strange Days (pretty much everything on that one, too!). The pounding keyboard/string/horn/guitar/bass/glockenspiel/kazoo/horn of Gondor “bum bum bum” rhythm is super-duper super. I looooove this song. The record is not completely devoid of “rock and roll” though, as “Shaman’s Blues” and “Wild Child” both have bluesy Krieger guitar licks going on. Neither one is that spectactular, but they’re solid. Both “Do It” and “Easy Ride,” however, feel like Waiting For The Sun outtakes with horns and shit stuck on them, a.k.a. “um, I guess they’re nice, but is it OK for me to hit the skip button on the CD player now?”
The end of the record shows off the
band at their MOST experimental, however, at least to me. “Runnin’ Blue” manages to combine an a
cappella part that sounds like the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack, a horn-embellished pop song
that sounds like “Tell All The People,” funky hip-slappin’ bluegrass
interludes, and a strange tuba (or something) horn break that either sounds
like polka or the horn parts from Radiohead’s “The National Anthem.” And it does this in TWO AND A HALF
MINUTES. That’s cool. “Wishful Sinful” doesn’t cram as much onto
its plate, but it does have the loudest and most cheesy sounding violin parts
on the album, combined with an OBOE BREAK, yet STILL manages to more or less be
a rock song. This is no regular Vegas
lounge band. This is a Vegas lounge band
from HELL. On ACID.
Oh, but you wanna talk about weird?
Then put on the closing title track.
They’ve returned to the long ending thingy! Cool.
It’s not as meandering as “The End” or “When The Music’s Over,” but it’s
EASILY the weirdest song they ever did and one of the oddest things I’ve ever heard. Jim starts off reading some poetry, saying
“When I was back there in seminary school, there was a person there who put
forth the proposition that you can petition the lord with prayer. You CANNOT…PETITION THE LORD…WITH
PRAYER!” Then it turns into a slow
little acoustic guitar/harspichord ballad for a little bit, before nonsensically
morphing into an uptempo jazzy pop song, where Jim sings, among other things,
“Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy.”
OK, it’s less than two minutes in, and I’m already confused as FUCK. But then it goes slow again! And a weird ominous slow. Not quite right, my friend. “Catacombs, nursery bones.” Whatever.
Finally, the song stops jerking you around and the sort-of “main theme”
comes in, and stays for the rest of the tune.
It’s fun and jumpy! And there’s
BONGOS! Lots and lots of bongos. I like bongos! I like them very much. The lots o’ multitracked Jims are still
talking completely nonsensical gibberish.
I won’t elaborate it for you. You
can read and decipher the lyrics yourself.
The only part I can discern any meaning from is “Welcome to the soft
parade!” because, like, that’s the title of the song.
But it RULES, and it’s enough to
bring the album up to a solid, strong, highly recommended 8. It’s not quite as good as the debut, but it’s
damn good in its own right. I mean, there
are melodramatic violin fills and funky sax solos and shit, but this isn’t the
Doors at their poppiest or most commercial.
It’s the Doors at their WEIRDEST.
I find that to be quite a paradox, don’t you? The weird, artsy-fartsy peak of the band, and
to accomplish it they go and drag in all these poppy strings and horns and
poop. Whose idea was that? Oh, probably Jim’s, since he wanted to be
Wayne Newton and a fucked-up conceptual artist AT THE SAME TIME.
Morrison Hotel (1970)
Rating: 8
Best Song: “Peace Frog”
With the last two albums they made, the Doors had (somewhat unjustly, I
LIKE The Soft Parade!) been quickly losing critical and
commercial respect, so what do they go and do?
They do a complete 180 and become a regular old rock ‘n’ roll band
again! So, instead of sounding like some
really tripped out Vegas lounge band, this record sounds like a mildly tripped
out bar band. So what do I think of it? I like it, for sure, though I think (like the
debut) it’s a bit overrated. People tend
to cite this one as a top-flight Doors LP while shitting and dumping all over The Soft Horn Section, and goddamit, that is CRAP! I think the two albums are pretty much just
as good. You see, I like the Doors
because of their weird, funked-up DOORSINESS, and there’s not so much of that
on this record. It appears now and then,
but a lot of it doesn’t sound all that much like the Doors (ofcourse, the next
album sounds even LESS like the Doors, and I love it, so I guess I have no
point).
Aaaaaaaanyway, philosophical musings
aside, how good are the SONGS? Well,
they’re good, and they’re even, and they’re consistent, but they’re not
SPECTACTULAR. To me, this gives off the
feel of a better, more hard-rocking Waiting
For The Sun, and hey! There’s even a song called “Waiting For The
Sun” on here! The Doors pulled a Houses
Of The Holy (or, more accurately, Led Zeppelin pulled a Waiting For The
Sun)! It’s a quite good song, one of my
favorites on this baby, and it also helps to partially OBLITERATE my theory of
“lack of Doorsiness.” It’s got a vintage
weird Ray keyboard tone going on, and a very dark, ominous feel. The quasi-maybe-blues “The Spy” also sounds
dark and oooominous to me, but these are the exceptions rather than the MTV’s
Road Rules.
This is because, like I said, a LOT
of this record just sounds like some random bar band (albeit a really, really,
really good bar band). Like “Roadhouse
Blues.” Now THAT is a damn good and
catchy bluesy rock song! “I woke up this
morning, grabbed myself a BEER!” There
you go, Jim! Connect with blue-collar
America. Oh, but you could do it without
getting SO SIMPLE, as you do on “You Make Me Real.” Now, I enjoy this song very much. It’s just a run-of-the-mill rockin’
guitar/piano boogie woogie shufflin’ good time, but “I really want you! Really do!” does not strike me as a vintage
Doors lyric. Where are the lizards and
whatnot? And the blood? Oh!
There’s the blood! In “Peace
Frog!” Now, I LOVE this song. It’s a fun, bouncy wah-wah-wah guitar song that
might just be the poppiest thing on here, and in which Jim so CHARMINGLY sings
of “blood in the streets” OVER AND OVER AGAIN in various towns, cities, and
heights (like “up to my ankles,” “up to my thighs”). The Krieger guitar solo ROCKS, though. I love that.
I also love that once Jim slowly and carefully sings the line “Blood in
the streets in the town of New Haven.”
Take THAT, Yale! You know why you
suck? BECAUSE YOU LIVE IN NEW HAVEN,
CONNECTICUT! What a piece of shit town
that is. Cock-mongers.
Oh, this record also has a few
ballads that are dumb and slow and sappy and stupid. “Blue Sunday” is what I like to refer to
scientifically as “a big, flaming, suck-job.”
“Indian Summer” is a little better, but balladry never was, is, or will
be the Doors’ forte. Why would I want
listen to those ballads when I could put on “Roadhouse Blues?” Or it’s blues-rock twin “Maggie M’Gill” that
closes the album? It’s no “Roadhouse
Blues,” but it’s nice enough. I like
some good old-fashioned blues-based rock and roll. Maybe I’ll go and listen to the weird little
gems in the middle part of the album, “Ship Of Fools” and “Land Ho!” or
possibly the fun little organ-y rocker “Queen Of The Highway.” But NOT “Blue Fucking Sunday.”
This review was very rambling. I apologize for that, but there’s really not,
to me, that much intelligent to say about this record here. It’s just a good rock and roll album. Not especially weird or dark or whatever
Doors-related adjective you might want to add.
But it’s good. Because the Doors
are good.
L.A. Woman (1971)
Rating: 10
Best Song: “Riders On The Storm”
And so, we FINALLY get to the second
masterpiece in the Doors catalog. For
THIS one, the band decided to take the bluesy vibe in “Roadhouse Blues” and
“Maggie M’Gill” and milk it for an entire album. So the odd little popsters who made Strange Days and the drugged-up Robert Goulet wannabes who made The Soft Parade are now a HARDCORE BLUES band.
And, you know what? It
works! It works a LOT! Just look at that rating! That’s a 10, baby!
“The Changeling” is the opener, and
it’s not really all that different from “Roadhouse Blues,” except for two
things. First, there’s a neat messed-up
guitar bridge (they’re still the Doors, remember!), and, second, Jim doesn’t
sound like Jim anymore. He sounds like
an old, tired bluesman, because for this record, to be in line with all the
blooooooooze shit, he REALLY gruffed up his voice. I love the song, though, and I thoroughly
WORSHIP the song that comes after it, “Love Her Madly,” my personal favorite
“short” Doors tune. In the lyrics to
this one is where the general tone of the album starts to appear. Jim sings a repeated “All your love…all your
love…all your love…” a few times, and four years ago, you’d expect to hear him
follow that up with “All your love, I’d like it three times on Friday, four
times on Saturday, five times every other day, and then I’d like to SLEEP ALL
NIGHT IN YOUR TWENTIETH CENTURY BACKDOOR SOUL KITCHEN, BECAUSE YOU MUST RIDE
THE SNAKE!!!” But NO! Instead, he goes “All your loooooove…all your
love is gone, so sing a lonely song…”
Fneh? Lyrically and, um,
attitudinally, this is just a COMPLETELY different band from any other Doors
album.
And that continues to show up in the
fact that there are THREE completely generic three-chord blues songs on this
album, which makes a grand total of, hmm, oh, THREE for their career. And, the thing is, though I’m not wont to dig
the hardcore blues, I DIG THESE SONGS!
“Been Down So Long” is probably the best generic three-chord blues tune
I’ve heard in my life. You can feel the
sweat and effort that went into it.
There’s a LONG period where Robbie Krieger is breaking out three completely
different guitar lines at the same time, and it’s brilliant. One solo in one headphone, one in another,
and rhythmic strumming in the center.
This is one down and dirty, ASS-KICKING tune, the complete opposite of
what comes after it, the second three-chord blooooooooooze tune “Cars Hiss By
My Window,” which just sort of slooooooowly puts you to sleep if you’re not
paying attention to how AWESOME it is, and at the end, you THINK you hear a
guitar solo, but you know what that is?
That’s JIM, making guitar noises with his mouth that sound, honestly, a
little too convincing. That’s so
cool. The third generic-y three chord-y
thing, “Crawling King Snake,” doesn’t match the snuff of the other two, but its
not any better or worse than “Backdoor Man” from the debut, and I like that
song fine, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
This record coheres together
wonderfully as a whole, but still every song on it is just a unique and
completely autonomous unit, even the things that seem like throwaways on first
listen, like “L’America,” which turns out to have a really interesting
structure, and “Hyacinth House,” which turns out to be a darn nice pop song
with more decidedly un-poppy lyrics (“I need a brand new friend who doesn’t
bother me”). And how about “The Wasp
(Texas Radio And The Big Beat)?” Now
that is a damn entertaining song. Some
fun spoken word Jim goodness (but not conceptually weird poetry about lizards
and blood, fun stuff like “comes out of the Virginia Swamps cool and slow with
plenty of precision!”), and, honest to god, THE COOLEST DRUM BREAK I HAVE EVER
HEARD. Jesus, I love that little drum
break near the end. Fuck my ass, I’m
excited.
And I haven’t even gotten to the two
long tracks yet! “L.A. Woman” and
“Riders On The Storm” constitute (along with “Love Her Madly”) my three
favorite Doors songs of all time (all on the same record! Yay!), with “Riders On The Storm” getting the
nod for best in the band’s catalog. The
title track is just fascinating. It’s
jumpy, fun and catchy while at the same time being dark, disturbing, and
BLOOOOZY, with Jim’s voice gruffed up more than any other song here. And then it slows down in the middle (“Mr.
Mo-jo Risin’!”) before speeding back up again, and every second of it is
brilliant, but NOT as brilliant as “Riders On The Storm,” which is probably the
most PERFECT way a band could EVER end their career. Anyone who listens to this tune and does not
picture four men, riding horses, in the dead of night, with big black
raincoats, in a pounding rainstorm, should be SHOT, because that’s exactly what
you should see, GODDAMMIT! And the
keyboard solo in the middle? Seems a
little long, eh? WRONG! If it were FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES LONG it still
wouldn’t be long enough. It’s fucking
brilliant.
But this record isn’t as great as it
is chiefly because of the songs (though they’re great in their own right), but
because of the general feel and tone of the album. They just seem tired and worn-out. Look on the cover. Jim’s got a beard. Robbie’s got a beard. Densmore’s got that mustache thing. I guess Manzarek didn’t grow anything (he’s
still a dorkus malorkus). All the crazy
artsy weird meandering shit is completely GONE.
Even the two long songs are more structured-long like “Light My Fire.” This is four TIRED guys, just sittin’ back,
swiggin’ a beer or two, and playin’ some blues, and I love it. Jim’s not bragging about his sexual prowess
(except for “Crawling King Snake”) or writing beat poetry on acid. Ray (for the most part, and definitely NOT in
“L’America”) has put the carnival keyboards away and plays bluesy organ and
piano throughout a lot of this puppy.
It’s just relaxed. You
can really just sit back, chill, and soak it in, from the first organ chords of
“The Changeling” to the closing whispers and thunderclaps of “Riders On The
Storm.” I still like Strange Days the best, but this comes in a very, very close second, despite being
done by a (seemingly) completely different band. And that’s really the mark of a great band,
to make two masterpieces that have JACK-SHIT in common with each other stylistically.
But, as Al says, “the cover sucks a
bit.”
Epilogue:
After
Jim died in 1971, the other three members released a few albums without
him. I don’t have them, and neither
should you.
This the
end, my only friend, the end.