http://www.theherald.co.uk/features/77401.html

What goes on behind closed Doors

GRAEME THOMSON

December 26 2006

Ray Manzarek gets tired of talking about Jim Morrison, but he hides it well. It's 35 years since The Doors frontman expired somewhat controversially in a Paris bathtub aged just 27, apparently from a drink and drug induced heart attack, but the man responsible for the band's signature, swirling keyboard sound still regularly has to fend off wide-eyed disciples clutching his sleeve and asking: "What was he really like, Ray?"

Manzarek, to his credit, knows precisely what is required of him, unpeeling a list of stock cliches in reply, ending with a flourish as he describes a "Dionysian sybarite, the most dangerous, debauched, licentious man in all of rock'n'roll".

He pauses, and smiles. "They don't want to know about Jim Morrison the funny, witty, talented poet and what those words mean. It's too confusing. Let's just get
to the sex-mad, crazed, drunken Jim Morrison."

It's a source of astonishment to Manzarek and Doors guitarist Robby Krieger that, exactly 40 years after the release of their eponymous debut album, not only are they still discussing the demise of the quiet, crop-haired college student who became the infamous Lizard King, but also that The Doors maintain a highly visible presence on the musical landscape.

Formed in Los Angeles in 1965, with John Densmore completing the line-up on drums, the band's instantly recognisable sound was a unique marriage of pop, rock, blues and jazz, with elements of classical, bossa nova, flamenco and folk thrown in. Not a band who evolved hugely from their original musical blueprint, today Manzarek describes it as "Bauhaus music – clean and pure. That's what we wanted".

And he's right. Heard today, it is the Doors' entire sound – rather than Morrison's rasping bark and much vaunted "poetry" – that really resonates. It seems fitting, then, that while acknowledging the enormous role the charismatic Morrison played in catapulting the band to huge commercial success between 1967 and 1971, there appears to be a conscious attempt on the part of the remaining three members to emphasise that The Doors functioned as a democracy, made up of four equal partners.

"We shared everything together," says Densmore. "Songwriting, credits, arranging, everything. Ray, Robby, Jim and John. We're all in there, and maybe that's why we got blessed with some energy bigger than the four of us. We were a melting pot."

Krieger, who wrote several of the band's biggest hits, adds: "When I met Jim Morrison I thought, 'Oh, this guy's a star'. It was part of the deal, and I didn't mind that. I was content to be a guitar player in the background. But I think people are realising as time goes on that it wasn't just Jim Morrison, it was four people and if any one of us hadn't have been there it wouldn't have been The Doors. Probably by the year 3000 people will know that Robby Krieger wrote Light My Fire."

Part of this desire for a reassessment is down to the fact that the three musicians frequently carried Morrison as his addictions worsened. Although a heavy drug user, it was alcohol that made Morrison combative, aggressive and often unfit to perform on stage; it played the most significant part in accelerating his downfall.

"When he was on the bottle it was difficult to be with him," admits Manzarek. "He wasn't all the time or he wouldn't have written all those songs and done such a great job with his words. There were two of them: the good Jim Morrison and then this other fellow who lived in a bottle of whisky, and that guy was called 'Jimbo'. Unscrew the top of that bottle and Jimbo would come out. It was like, 'Holy ****, let me out of this room.' That could be a loutish fellow."
 
Jimbo eventually won the tussle for supremacy of Morrison's heart and soul, but not the band's. The death of a frontman as charismatic and visually definitive as Morrison would have been a resounding knock-out blow for most groups, but The Doors have maintained varying degrees of activity since his demise.

In the years immediately follow-ing his death, the three remaining members continued playing shows and recorded two more jazz-inflected albums as The Doors – with Manzarek and Densmore sharing vocal duties – before they finally called it quits in 1973 and wandered off to indulge themselves in other projects.

They reconvened in 1978 on An American Prayer, providing musical accompaniment to some recently discovered tapes of Morrison reciting his poetry, while all three acted as consultants on Oliver Stone's 1991 biopic The Doors, starring Val Kilmer as
Morrison. It turned out to be a less than satisfactory experience.

"That movie was kind of a joke – it was Oliver Stone in leather pants," says Manzarek, although Densmore has a few nice things to say about it.

All three previous members remained in California and kept in touch, and in 2002 it was decided to reform the band with The Cult singer Ian Astbury taking Morrison's place. Visually, vocally and artistically, it seemed a good fit. "All that stuff that Jim was into, Ian is into," says Manzarek. "Shamanic, native American spirituality. Buddhism. Poetry. He's not imitating Morrison. It's got all the power that it had the first time around, but it's not Jim. It's Ian being Ian."

However, no 1960s band worth its salt survives – in whatever fragmented form – without the odd legal battle and falling out along the way, and so it has proved with The Doors.

Due to a familiar mixture of smarting old wounds, bruised egos and poor communication, John Densmore hasn't signed up for the reunion. Former Police drummer Stewart Copeland played while Densmore recovered from an illness – with the result, according to Manzarek, that Densmore "thinks that I fired him. He had a hot flash and said, 'I will stop them; they cannot call themselves The Doors'. He decided to sue us."

The outcome of the 2005 court case – which Manzarek and Krieger are appealing – is that the new, Astbury-led band cannot use The Doors in any part of their name, and currently play as Riders on the Storm.

Densmore is unapologetic. He says: "Unless someone of the stature of Jim comes along, why do it again? I mean, he was a genius. I don't mind Ray and Robby playing – they should and they're great – it's just I had to put my foot down and make sure they didn't steal the name."

According to Krieger, there may be an attempt to record some new material with Astbury in the near future.

Both he and Manzarek also believe that they will play with Densmore again, after the appeal is settled. Despite recent events the three men, now all in their sixties, remain united by a shared musical bond of more than 40 years, and a justifiable pride in their work.

"I never dreamed that people would still be listening to The Doors in 2006," says Krieger.

"It's great, it validates what we did in those years. We thought we were doing something great at the time, but everybody does.
"Looking back, it was just a magic balance."
 

Riders on the Storm play SECC, Glasgow, on December 29.
Perception, a box-set containing all The Doors albums plus rarities, is out on Rhino.
 

return to Ida's LA Woman Confidential home page   

 for more Doors news and reviews