So much baggage comes with the name, doesn't it? No matter how we try to deny it, so many of us are tied to what we've read over the years. Certain rock critics have come out against the Doors and we've absorbed said theories no matter how we try to deny it. Lester Bangs was in favor, but Robert Christgau wasn't. Or Dave Marsh came out against them (after actually being friends with Jim) but gosh, wasn't Johnny Rotten a fan? Jim Morrison was crucified for being a pompous ass but other far more beloved "characters" have been given an eternal pass (James Brown, anyone?) who were far more guilty of douchebaggery than the relatively harmless Morrison ever was.
Anyway, I've drunk an entire bottle of La Fin Du Monde so I don't care if I don't make too much sense in this essay. I guess if I have to pick a favorite band then it probably will be the Doors. Were they better than the Beatles? Of course not, better musicians than, oh, I dunno... Cream? Hell no. Were they better songwriters than Bob Dylan? Go fucking home and lie down if you think that. So why are they my favorite? It's hard to say, really.
I was the first person I knew to be into the Doors in that late '70s/early '80s period when the No One Here Gets Out Alive book first published. When the albums were all marked down to $3.99 and Apocalypse Now used "The End" and radio began playing the band after virtually ignoring them for most of the '70s. I wrote their name on my junior high school locker and called my Dungeons and Dragons character "Morrison" when nobody my age knew who he was.
That would all change sooner rather than later. By 1981 everyone knew who Jim Morrison and The Doors were. Suddenly, I wasn't alone in my adoration of the band. Even modern groups were influenced by them. Who couldn't hear the ghost of Morrison in Echo and the Bunnymen, or appreciate the Stranglers Doorsy take on "Walk on By?" Rolling Stone put Jim on the cover and now they were considered 'classic rock' just like The Beatles, Dylan, or anyone else. Funny, five years earlier I couldn't recall the band being a staple of rock radio stations. What had happened?
Let's look at the albums to answer that question. That first LP is a stone cold classic. If you've read this far then you know I'm an uber fan, so I appreciate the debut record more than Are You Experienced or Velvet Underground and Nico or whatever else you think was fresher in 1967. There were not that many filler tracks for one thing and most everything else was stupendous. "Break On Through" is a stellar opener, a call to arms, if you will. This guy has a world view; he's proclaiming a philosophy which may not be your own, but he's sure not shy about articulating it, is he? And the music, where is that coming from? Totally LA: dark, noir, sexy, almost as if it has a New York vibe but then, nobody from the East Coast ever sounded like this. This ain't the Rascals, folks, nor the Lovin' Spoonful. The Doors were dark. Not the kind of darkness The Rolling Stones epitomized which was too in thrall of blues and the African American ethos to the point of artifice. No this was different. These guys were educated, literate. Knowledgeable about their influences - which weren't all musical either (not by a long shot). Listen to The Doors and you hear all kinds of stuff: odes to local LA eateries and speed, Weill - Brecht and Howlin' Wolf numbers, references to Oedipus and Celine, etc. I'm sorry, but this stuff is more advanced to my ears, anyway, than what Lou Reed was dishin' out on that first Velvets LP. It was more exotic anyway, than songs about scoring heroin and S & M. But let's not tear down one band in favor of another. The critical establishment has clearly gone one way while popular opinion regarding the two groups has gone another.
And Strange Days is almost as good. While nothing hit quite like "Light My Fire" and "When The Music's Over" hasn't the impact of "The End," the rest of the LP delivers quite nicely. It's almost like both of them could have been combined for a spectacular double LP.
1968 is when the trouble begins. Morrison was an alcoholic and never even contemplated any kind of recovery (how popular was AA then? Did it even exist?) The pressures of superstardom and attempting to give the people what they want began to exert a toll. Frequent drunken escapades and the idea of creating new songs (when most of the tunes on the first two LPs were written pre-stardom) became issues which weren't factors in 1967. Waiting for the Sun went to number one, as did the "Hello, I Love You" 45. To the outside world, things were better than ever in Doorsland. Morrison adapted easily to the growing anti-Vietnam, anti-authority ethos espoused by the counter culture. It was almost as if he was made for those times. His arrests both on and off stage only added to his allure to those inclined to worship black and white stereotypes, but also hinted towards the caricature which would characterize the rest of his career.
Things went further south in 1969. The Soft Parade was their weakest LP. Morrison's onstage antics got him arrested in Miami, Florida and the trial went on and on, taking a toll on both the band and their ability to tour as many cities canceled concert dates. The critical establishment all but abandoned the group, and teenyboppers turned to other interests. It's important to acknowledge that this was the band's lowest point, but even at this stage the music wasn't all that bad. I've often said that had another, unknown band done The Soft Parade and then quietly broke up - MOJO would hail it as a lost '60s classic, a gem worthy of reappraisal. Things would improve shortly.
Since this essay is turning out to be far longer than I had anticipated, I'll combine their last two years. Always interested in the blues, Morrison finally abandoned any pretense at being a teen idol (he always hated that image anyway), and let himself go (physically) and grew a beard. Their music had less emphasis on the organ-driven carnivalesque sound of '67 - '68 and took on a harder-rockin' bluesy vibe which suited them well. Morrison Hotel and LA Woman were excellent returns to form. They didn't sound too much like earlier LPs, yet were still easily identifiable as Doors albums. Tracks like "Roadhouse Blues," "Riders on the Storm," "LA Woman," and "Love Her Madly" were all over rock and pop stations in the early seventies (and still are today). Had Jim never passed, I'm thinking they would have kept on in this mode rather than return to the early Doors sound.
So what are we left with in the twenty first century? Subsequent generations of doom-obsessed teens and frat boys all go through their Doors phase, the radio has never forgotten their best songs (at least not since the late '70s/early '80s resurgence I spoke of earlier), their logo and the young Morrison visage adorn countless shirts/posters and the label continues to churn out compilations with diminishing returns (some of the unreleased live stuff is all right though). As has been said, dying was the best thing that could have happened to that band. The remaining three members have hardly had to work in the last forty or so years and John and Robbie will die rich and beloved for a mere four and a half years of work. It's hard to think of another band who were around for such a short time but who did so well financially.
