from London's Sunday Express November 30, 2003
EVOLVING DOORS: It's Jim, everyone, but not as we know him. Former Doors keyboard player Ray Manzarek has resurrected the rock poet. Chris Goodman meets the man riding a storm of protest.
THE MAN WHO WOULD BE JIM
A "money-making sham, a tribute band at best" ... Doors fans were outraged when a new singer began trying on Jim Morrison's leather trousers for size. But can he cut it? Chris Goodman meets a would-be sex god
When Jim Morrison died in his bath in Paris on July 3, 1971, it was not an auspicious end for a man who had been hailed as a great American poet. It wasn't too great for the rest of The Doors, either. Keyboard player Ray Manzarek, guitarist Robby Krieger and drummer John Densmore were suddenly left without their main draw. After a couple of years of mourning, Manzarek despairingly auditioned new singers to replace Morrison but finally decided that his friend could never be resurrected.
But now, three decade years later, he has been -- in the unlikely form of British singer Ian Astbury, best known for his Red Indian fixation and his Robert Plant-style caterwauling with goth rockers The Cult. When Manzarek and Krieger revived the Doors name last year -- in the form of The Doors Of The 21st Century -- many former fans were horrified. It was derided as a money-making sham, a tribute band at best. How could they dare to call themselves The Doors without Jim Morrison?
Next weekend they arrive in London to let British fans draw their own conclusions.
Manzarek is unapologetic. "Robby wrote Light My Fire, I wrote the introduction to it. We're going to play it, we are the creators of it," he says. "Jim Morrison is dead -- get over it, deal with it, realise it. Robby and I are not going to die without playing those songs again."
But on the surface at least, it looks bad. Whereas in the Sixties, Morrison loved to shock the establishment, when the band re-formed in 2002 it was for a corporate gig celebrating the 100th anniversary of Harley. They then went on to play Las Vegas -- at $100 a ticket. Jim would have been turning in his grave.
Once more, Manzarek comes out fighting. "That's the cynicism of today," he snorts. "'They're in it for the money!' Could I possibly be in it for the joy of making music?" he asks rhetorically. "I'm 64 years old. Dig it now because it isn't going to be around much longer."
In Cleveland, Ohio, I recently saw the band play the Nautica Stage, a beautiful amphitheatre in the city's old docks. To the left, the rangy Manzarek; to the right, the hobbit-like Krieger, 53; and centre stage, a young pup of 41 -- Ian Astbury. The new Jim Morrison? Or just a pale imitation of the great man? It depends on who you ask.
"It's two old guys and a bloke in a leather suit doing a Stars In Their Eyes impression of soeone who had talent," Alex Patton, the editor of the British Doors fanzine The Doors 4 Scorpywag, says bitterly.
A unique LA band whose jazz rock was at odds with the Sixties West Coast vibe, The Doors always polarised opinion. Their debut single Light My Fire has assured them radio play forever, but darker meditations like The End and Riders On The Storm staked a claim to art. The took the Rolling Stones' flirtation with the shadowy side of rock into ritualistic territory. Morrison, the self-styled Lizard King, challenged his audience with poetry, drama and an unpredictable shamanic persona and, although he died an alcoholic, the fascination continues. Cleveland's famous Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame even displays Jim's childhood Scouts outfit.
Astbury, chosen after he made a guest appearance with Manzarek and Krieger on a VH1 documentary about The Doors, knows he is a sitting duck for the critics. "My press has always been 'Astbury's two teepees short of a reservation'," he admits. "But Morrison got that too. People referred to him as a buffoon -- poncing about spouting off French Symbolist poetry, drinking wine, shagging girls and doing acid."
Astbury has a penchant for comparing himself to Morrison, which annoys the hell out of Doors fans. "I look in the mirror and think I kind of look a bit like him," he continues. "I've loved Morrison probably since I was 12 years old as someone to look up to. It's been a long journey to doing this now, incredibly strange. But I came into this as a novice -- this is like a university education. I've had modest success with a modest body of work. Theirs is shocking, it scares the hell out of me!
"But as soon as the set starts, after the first two songs there's no concern about impressing anyone," he notes. "We just enter a space as musicians and play the music."
He stresses his respect for The Doors' past. "They've been waiting 30 years since to do this and they waited with great respect. Danny Sugerman (Doors manager) has been talking to me about it for several years. But it's a weighty, lofty position, very daunting. I don't think I was in a position even in my 30s to fill this role.
"The Doors' body of work is a tradition and it's got to be performed. It's great having it on CD but Ray and Robby want to play their music and they've got a God-given right to do so. And I'm glad it's me who's singing it. It's a great time for The Doors to re-form. But it's our own incarnation and that's very exciting.
Manzarek, too, sells Astbury as Morrison's natural successor. "There's a psychic sameness," he says, "He has the same shamanistic quality to him that Jim had. They share a native American spirituality, a Buddhist belief, a Celtic-Christian persona."
Astbury certainly bust Morrison's moves, wiggling his hips in leather trousers, sporting the same shaggy mane of hair and intoning lyrics just like the original. And as soon as the crowd hear Roadhouse Blues and Break On Through, they're enjoying themselves. Krieger and Manzarek improvise like jazz musicians. Manzarek used to play the bass lines on his keyboard but an added bass player frees him up for experimentation and some fabulous jam sessions ensue. The nubile young blondes I had assumed were queuing for Astbury turn out to be waiting for Robby.
There is one jarring note, when Morrison's image appears on the giant video screen, but later Manzarek shrugs it off. "I put a band together with my college buddy, he died and you're telling me I can't use a picture of my friend?"
Meanwhile, new tracks are being prepared -- Cops Talk has been taking shape as part of their live set. A new album is planned for 2004 with lyrics from Basketball Diaries author Jim Carroll and Morrison's poetry mentor Michael McClure.
But there is one fly in the ointment: original drummer John Densmore, who thinks the whole thing sucks. His reputation has never been high among Doors fans because he and Morrison did not get on -- but for Alex Patton and his allies, Densmore is suddenly a saviour.
Critics accuse Manzarek of exploiting the cult of Jim Morrison in order to keep the Doors records selling. Like Elvis, Morrison is still alive for some, and Manzarek actually fuelled that idea in his 2001 novel The Poet In Exile, about a rock star who fakes his own death to escape adulation and moves to an exotic island.
Last year Densmore blocked Manzarek when he wanted to lease the Doors classic When The Music's Over for use in an advert for Apple Macintosh computers. The drummer gave his reasons in an article for US magazine Nation. "We don't need the money. But I get such pressure from one particular bandmate (the one who wears glasses and plays keyboards). 'Commercials will give us more exposure,' he says. I ask him, 'So you're not for it because of the money?' He says 'No,' but his first question is always 'How much?' when we get one of these offers, and he always says he's for it ...
"If I learned anything from Jim, it's respect for what we created," he adds, citing Morrison's refusal to sell Light My Fire for a car advert in 1967. Densmore is suing the new Doors for using the band's name without his agreement -- but Manzarek sneers: "John Densmore's just saying 'Stop questioning my manhood!' His ears are bad [he suffers from tinnitus], he couldn't play two-and-a-half hours of hard-ass, kick-ass, rock 'n' roll drums. John can't cut the mustard and he's covering up his inadequacies with a law suit. He's supporting the image of Jim Morrison but Jim wanted to fire John Densmore from the band."
The new band originally hired Stewart Copeland of The Police as their drummer but then dropped him. Copeland sued, claiming $1 million, and has since settled out of court. For good measure, the Jim Morrison Estate is suing them too, claiming they have "maliciously misappropriated" the band name and Morrison's image.
Bizarrely, Jim Morrison is now represented by his estranged parents, whom he rarely spoke to. In his will he left everything to girlfriend Pamela Courson but when she overdosed on heroin in 1974, the estate went to her parents. They then cut a deal with the Morrisons to share it 50/50. "They just want their piece of the action," says Manzarek dismissively.
Despite the legal mess, The Doors Of The 21st Century carry on and the crowds are flocking. But the shadow of Jim looms too large to ignore. Manzarek was his oldest friend, but Morrison is an icon. Fans, family and rock culture all claim to own him. The Doors Of The 21st Century, worthy or not, will never satisfy them all.
The Doors Of The 21st Century play Wembley Arena on December 11.
Alex Patton's fanzine: homepage.ntlworld.com/alexatdoors4scorpywag
(thanks, Alex and Doug)
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