My Personal Opinion Of John Densmore

The drummer for The Doors, John Densmore, was the perfect drummer for The Doors and their music. His style of drumming was born through years of jazz training, and eventually into blues. By the time The Doors had formed in 1965, Densmore could easily play a rock beat that could swing too, as heard best in the organ and guitar solos in "Light My Fire." His jazz-inflected style was very unique, as he also hit the snare and toms with plenty of power. There was a certain snap and tightness to his playing that isn't heard from other premier drummers of the time like Keith Moon or John Bonham, both more rock-oriented players. Densmore is more comparable with Charlie Watts, Ginger Baker, and Mitch Mitchell, all jazz-oriented drummers who adapted to the more physical rock style.

Aside from having great strength in his playing, he could feel the song well. Live, he could either quell the madness or ignite Morrison and the band to explode into a part, or invite theatrics which Morrison did so well. "When The Music's Over" is an awesome example of this kind of ebb and flow, where he plays around Morrison's poetry and sets the attitude of the song. The ability to lay back and lurk in the weeds, and then burst out with salvos of fire was a specialty of Densmore's, a necessity too, when often times playing live, improvisation was necessary to keep things fresh and spur on Morrison.

Densmore seems to never get the respect he deserves. He doesn't have the notoriety of John Bonham or Keith Moon, yet is respected by drummers who know who's good. He quietly went about his business in The Doors, letting Morrison garner all the attention. I believe him to be an upper-echelon drummer, more diverse in skill than Bonham, more in control than Moon, and more soul-driven than Neil Peart. Yet you'll never hear any one admit this is right. Can you imagine The Doors without the jazzy, snare-rattling bluesy drumming of Densmore?

The Soft Parade

By late 1968, The Doors had transformed, from an up-and-coming American pop group, to a legitimate international musical force. They were regarded as being in the upper echelon of rock, a part of the "pantheon" of rock- The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Cream, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, and themselves. Although The Doors hadn't yet sold the amount of albums the Beatles and Stones had sold, they were artistically and critically in the league of the two groundbreaking English groups.

Later on in '68, The Doors began rehearsing for their next album, The Soft Parade. This album was going to be a much different-sounding Doors album than fans were used to hearing. Having reached a somewhat stale period of songwriting, the band put their heads together again and wrung out as much material as they could at the time. 1968 was a year in which The Doors played a great many shows, touring North America and Europe. Coupled with the increasingly erratic behavior and unreliability of Jim Morrison, the band may have lost some inspiration for writing. But this changed once the sessions were underway.

The feature of the new album was to be different instrumental arrangements. Instead of just the standard drums, keyboards, guitar, and vocals, The Doors were augmented with a classical orchestra and jazz brass section in some of the songs. In addition to these elements was a slicker overall sound, a more polished shine, whereas in earlier Doors albums there was more reverbs and echoes present. These combined values were a unique blend for The Soft Parade. The result was a strangely upbeat and fun sounding Doors record. Gone, for the time being, was the general air of darkness and hard psychedelic leanings. The album wasn't a critical success upon release in 1969, being almost completely dismissed by rock critics, although it sold fairly well. In it's aging, it's gained a reputation as sort of an experiment The Doors attempted. Maybe it wasn't as grand an experiment as "The Celebration Of The Lizard," but it was still important for them to try something like this and mix their sound up a bit.

The album begins with the blaring Ben Hur horns of "Tell All The People," a Robby Krieger-penned jazz-pop tune that sounds perfectly suited for AM radio. "Touch Me" follows with an insistent keyboard part to go with a fast beat, until after the buildup Morrison cuts in with his famous "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon now touch me, babe" line (this song was written by Krieger). The song is an orgy of sound; horns, strings, bass, keys, guitar, all interwoven and shifting around each other. The short verses slow down a bit, where Ray Manzarek adds a Baroque melody with a harpsichord, as Morrison's vocal and the string section float above. In the final buildup, jazz sax man Curtis Amy plays a wild Coltrane-like solo to end the song. "Touch Me" proved to be the one big hit from The Soft Parade. "Shaman's Blues" follows with a dense, deep instrumental sound rolling and lilting below Morrison's poetry. The time signature of the song is waltz-like, giving the song a haunting but warm climate. "Shaman's Blues" is usually regarded as one of the more under-appreciated Doors songs, and one of Morrison's best rock poems. "Do It" is a playful, lyrically pleading ditty highlighted with a neat organ and guitar riff which drive the song. "Easy Ride" is another simple tune with a fun, country-blues romp sound. "Wild Child" is a return to a more typical Doors sound- swampy, bluesy, uneasy, another haunting poetic portrait of the future. The song is built around a dirty slide guitar riff, and the band builds in around the riff. It continues The Soft Parade idea of a full and heavy production, sounding loud and rich. "Runnin' Blue" is a hybrid of rock, jazz, pop, and bluegrass country. It moves into different territories quick enough to almost disorient the listener. It is held together by the bluegrass choruses, sung by Krieger. There is a verse featuring an avant-garde jazz battle between a honky saxophone and a screeching trombone, one of the more unique moments on the entire album. "Wishful Sinful" is another Krieger tune (he had four of his own and one co-write on the album) revolving around a dreamy atmosphere and lyrical images written in a Morrison-esque style. The soaring strings and woodwinds combine with Krieger's arpeggiated chords to make "Wishful..." an ethereal and underrated song in The Doors canon. Ending the album is the Morrison poem "The Soft Parade," a four-part montage that doesn't seem to have any particular meaning. After a declaration by Morrison that "you cannot petition the Lord with prayer," the suite starts with a dreary, Far East folk motif with Morrison singing softly. The song suddenly shifts into a spiraling , psychedelic area, which then morphs into a slow, bubblegum pop theme which sounds more like Nancy Sinatra than Doors; probably the lightest Doors moment on record. At the tail end of this piece, Morrison exclaims "the monk... bought... lunch" which launches into the last section, a groovy, jungle funk part that grooves on for a awhile under Morrison's abstract and almost disjointed poetry. The song is a brilliant look into the humorous and serious side of Morrison's poetry, and just exactly what the poetry means is left to the listener's discretion. It seems mostly based on Morrison's lament of his own falling apart, a slow and cruel malaise that ended with his death in 1971. At times he wants to hide, escape somewhere where he can't be bothered anymore. In conflict with this is the second part of the montage, "Peppermint..." which seems like a cut-up that doesn't make much sense in relation the other parts of the song. The final part has layers of Morrison vocals blaring all at once in a display of confusion and madness amidst the slow funk.

The Soft Parade ended up being a drain on The Doors, taking months to complete and costing a lot of money to produce and arrange. It can be argued that the album is the one weird anomaly within the discography of an already unpredictable band. Who would have thought, back in 1969, that The Doors would essentially forget all they knew, sound and theme-wise, to create an album bearing little resemblance to their previous albums? This just proves that The Doors took risks and didn't fear doing something different.

The 2007 40th anniversary mixes reveals a couple of little oddities previously buried in the standard mix. In "Runnin' Blue" Krieger's chorus vocal during the final chorus is done solo. Morrison's vocal has been lowered way down in the mix. At the start of "The Soft Parade" is a short Morrison poem set to music. This piece was previously unreleased and doesn't have it's own known credit. One has to wonder if this was a part of "The Soft Parade" that was left out of the standard mix for some unknown reason. Nevertheless, it is a nice little surprise that hardcore fans will appreciate. In addition to the new mixes are the haul of bonus tracks included. "Who Scared You" is a definite outtake for The Soft Parade. Heavy with an organ-based groove, the song teeters along at a weird, jazzy pace, with a funky bridge part that has Morrison stuttering to the groove. This song was released in the early '70's on a compilation, and again in 1997 as a part of The Doors Box Set. "Whiskey, Mystics, And Men (Version 1)" is the rough take of this jug band chantey, setting a great tone and mood. "Whiskey, Mystics, And Men (Version 2)" is the final master of this song, as it would have sounded had it been selected for inclusion on The Soft Parade. This song was also included on a '70's compilation, and then the 1997 box set. "Push Push" is a loose jam centered around a piano riff that has a calypso vibe going. It sounds like another experiment for The Soft Parade that didn't make it to an advanced rehearsal stage. In 1968 and '69, The Doors would play "Push Push" a couple of times before live audiences. "Touch Me (Dialogue)" and "Touch Me (Take 3)" are connected snapshots of the studio work of the song. Take 3 is essentially the final take, but the final verse (with the sax solo) is extended and hadn't been edited down yet.

L.A. Woman

By late 1970, The Doors had experienced just about everything a veteran rock group could fathom- fame, success, excess, critical acclaim, and stylistic complacency. They had helped pioneer the psychedelic era, invented rock theater, and experimented with horn and string arrangements in their music. By this point, The Doors were perhaps a little tired and uninspired, but an old and trusty, tried and true friend crept into their songwriting- the blues. Hard and gritty, with a Texas-style intensity, the blues became the focus of The Doors new project, L.A. Woman. Jim Morrison in particular was very energetic and enthusiastic about the album, being an admirer of blues. The band embraced this new energy and decided to record the album in their rehearsal space, instead of a state-of-the-art L.A. studio. The vibe and comfort the space offered allowed the band to jam in an unhurried fashion, and the result is an album that is loose and freewheeling, but with the instrumental tightness and skill The Doors were known for.

L.A. Woman thematically is a moving album, almost an extension of Morrison Hotel, but with more of a blues influence. There's a feeling of loneliness and restlessness interwoven through the album, especially felt in the songs "The Changeling," "Cars Hiss By My Window," L.A. Woman," "Hyacinth House," and "Riders On The Storm."

The album kicks off on a funk rock kick with "The Changeling," pummeling the speakers as Morrison half-growls the lyrics. "Love Her Madly," Robby Krieger's last big single while with The Doors, follows with it's great guitar hook. The chorus features another hook, Ray Manzarek's calypso organ part, which sounds unique among the many keyboard, organ, and piano parts he played throughout the band's history. "Been Down So Long" is barroom blues at it's toughest, a cross-pollination of John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters-style riffs. Morrison really lets himself go and puts some emotion into his singing. "Cars Hiss By My Window" is a very slow blues made up of a series of lyrical letdowns and warnings sung brilliantly by Morrison. A very mellow blues and maybe one of the more underrated Doors tracks. The sleepy mood of "Cars Hiss..." ends almost in whisper, and suddenly a car speeding off down the highway interrupts the silent mood. A flourish of dissonant piano sounds and synthesizer bass set the uneasy, nervous pulse of the title track. "L.A. Woman" is an experience, a literal and psychedelic trip, the former a manic tour of L.A. and it's underworld, the latter an aural nightmare and celebration all at once. The song rumbles quickly through some verses before Morrison declares "let's change the mood from glad to sadness." The song morphs into a different creature, a slow bluesy trudge through uncertainty and a heavy, dense air of despair. Finally after a few bars, Morrison grabs ahold of a spontaneous kind of alter ego- Mr. Mojo Risin'- and runs with it until the buildup rides and explodes into a sunflower. The song takes a strange optimistic turn out of it's ominous mood- truly excellent theater. This song is a perfect example of The Doors, an embodiment of them as a sound, a song only they could write. Immediately following is another Morrison song poem, "L'America," a bleak trip to a downtrodden place, where the narrator hopes to strike it rich. This is another song with a long buildup, from a galloping, march-like entrance, right into a bluesy show tune to break the hypnotic doom. After another couple of wild mood swings, the tune comes full circle, ending with the same trance it began with. "Hyacinth House" signals a return to a lighter atmosphere, a fluttery, pastoral mosaic again themed in loneliness and paranoia. But the lyrical weight never drags down the melancholic beauty in the music- a strange instance of The Doors playing their own gospel. On an album rich with underrated songs, "Hyacinth House" stands out. In a nod to the old blues master John Lee Hooker, The Doors bust out "Crawling King Snake," another blues in that old stumbling roadhouse-style. The band is in fine form, playing with a raw, open sound but with polished technique after years of playing it live. "The WASP (Texas Radio And The Big Beat)" is an ode to danger and risk of sorts, where a teenager of the 1940's and '50's could, depending on location, tune into border radio stations and hear a whole new world of music (blues, country, rock & roll) not heard on typical American pop stations. Morrison experienced this as a Navy brat, moving all over the country as a child and picking up different music along the way. The hard-driving blues continues the roots of L.A. Woman with indeed a big beat and some great existential-ish poetry. Every great album usually has a grand finale, a sendoff to remember. "Riders On The Storm" is the end of the road, a strangely symbolic farewell to The Doors as a mythical quartet, as Morrison wouldn't survive to see the song become a hit single. Is it lounge jazz? Is it a slow jazz-blues? Is it just a rock tune? "Riders..." is a slow jazz-blues, with added thunder and rain effects and instruments given watery Leslie speaker* treatments. There is a lounge kind of feel to the sound, but instead of being background music, it is instead a heavy mood, one of stoned apprehension under a literal and figurative cloudy evening. The dark weight of the mood rivals that of the title track, and, much like that song, "Riders..." seems to warn against the perils of a restless life, warns of the danger of the road. Morrison sounds prophetic in his understated gloom, and the band lightly bubbles and simmers under his lead. Of course, "Riders..." became another Doors signature, another slice of their wide trademark sound pie. As other Doors songs did, "Riders..." went on to become an instant classic, a timeless piece of fragility and fear, a send off to Jim Morrison, one of the most brilliant, tortured, reviled, and condemned pop culture icons ever.

With the 2007 release of The Doors 40th Anniversary mixes, some new elements were revealed in L.A. Woman. Most were minor adjustments in re-mastering the sound, but there are a few significant changes. The closeout of "Love Her Madly" is extended a little longer than in the original mix, with the fadeout coming much later. Most notable is an extra verse of lyrics in "Cars Hiss By My Window," the last verse ("dog crawled out my window/in the cruel morning yard..."). For whatever reason (vinyl time limits?) this verse was omitted from the original 1971 mix. Also, at the start of "Cars Hiss..." is a new little Morrison yelp ("wayyyooo"). At the beginning of "L.A. Woman," a quote from the traditional children's hymn "My Country 'Tis Of Thee" is played with what sounds like a Moog synthesizer* electronically detuned, before turning into the familiar "car down the highway" sound. Also added to the album are two bonus tracks. "Orange County Suite" is a mid-period Morrison poem (started in 1968), an homage to his girlfriend Pamela Courson. He was recorded playing a piano chord at the start of the piece, and recorded an entire vocal track to map out the song's key, but died before anything else was completed. In 1997, the surviving Doors completed the track with their usual perfect accompaniment. It was originally released as a new track for the Box Set compilation that same year. "(You Need Meat) Don't Go No Further" is an old Willie Dixon-penned blues (Dixon wrote a great many classic blues songs that were usually popularized by his fellow bluesmen in Chicago, specifically his Chess Records colleagues). Chicago legend Muddy Waters made it into a small hit originally, and then it was probably played by many other bluesmen over the following years (the blues is a widely traded, copied, plagiarized, and recycled template). The Doors jammed on this song live on a few occasions, and with Morrison and Manzarek being big Chicago blues fans, it's not surprising to see The Doors recording their own cut of this post-war blues classic.

*Leslie Speaker- Basically a standard amplifier cabinet with one or more internal rotating horns, instead of a set speaker. The alternate rotations and speed of the horns affects the tone of the instrument being played through it, giving it an sweeping , shimmery feel (slow) or a dreamy, watery feel (medium, fast).

*Moog Synthesizer (early version)- a keyboard connected by cables to a switchboard of inputs and dials, which activated and adjusted preset sound effects. Robotic-like distortion, reproductions of classical instruments like flutes and horns, and white-noise washes were just some of the available effects on a Moog.

My Personal Opinion Of Robby Krieger

The Doors had the great fortune of having a guitarist who was incredibly versatile and unique. His name is Robby Krieger, and he quietly helped changed the music landscape of the late sixties, writing the lyrics for most of "Light My Fire," and all of "Love Me Two Times," two of the biggest Doors hit singles. His guitar work throughout his early Doors career (he still tours with keyboardist Ray Manzarek as The Doors Of The 21st Century) was fresh and diverse. He could play standard bluesy styles, but augmented the blues with countryfied bottleneck slide guitar. This is an old-time method for slide playing which began with all the great Mississippi Delta country bluesmen of the early 20th century. Krieger applied this slick sound to his electric guitar, and a signature sound was born. Listen to "Moonlight Drive," among many others, for a great example of this loopy, strange, but tuneful sound. But he didn't stop there with that technique. On "The End," he played in an Indian classical style, or sort of a raga style of guitar, which sounded perfect for the song and was convincing without the use of a real sitar or electric sitar. In "When The Music's Over," he played a giant, fuzz-drenched solo along the lines of a John Coltrane free-jazz saxophone riff. A lot of his guitar solos were very jazz inflected, with "Light My Fire" probably the song where this style has been heard the most. In "Spanish Caravan" he starts the song with a flourish of flamenco arpeggios and then takes off into the main melody.

Krieger became famous for his guitar playing at a time when big, heavy, blues rock guitar was the chic sound for most guitarists. It was a product of the psychedelic era, when bigger and louder was what rock players gravitated towards. Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Pete Townshend, Carlos Santana, etc. all played loud and sounded awesome. Yet Krieger had his own stamp on a psychedelic sound, a signature tone and style, in which he was relatively unequaled. He didn't have giant stacks of amplifiers or a bunch of effect pedals to work with, but nevertheless he still was able to sound big and stand out in The Doors' sound. I think of Krieger as the ultimate under-appreciated, underrated, and overlooked guitarist in classic rock. He deserves a lot of credit for forging something new and ignoring what was trendy.

My Personal Opinion Of Jim Morrison

Jim Morrison was the obvious catalyst of The Doors, the web weaver who could swing the tides of the music with his every word or action. It was he who commanded the band's sound and energy, without ever having to verbally order or demand the sound he needed behind him. He was a beat poet who never really received the recognition he deserved. He wasn't the greatest Modern poet by any means, but did write some quality material. Some of his material is pretty vulgar and purposefully lewd, as he sought a combination of shock value and artistry in his words. Of course, many Doors songs revolve around his poetic strings pulling the mood and energy of the music.

As a vocalist, just a sheer singer, he had a wide range of soul and feel in his tenor and baritone. His voice evolved through the the band's short, seven year span as a quartet. Morrison went from having a smooth, powerful, but warm sound to eventually a more gruff, dry, bluesy growl. Listen to The Doors and then L.A. Woman to hear this significant difference. His change in tone had a lot to do with heavy drinking and cigarette smoking. No matter which voice he had, the man surely, especially when sober and interested, sang with great purpose and displayed a soulfulness within the context of usually very moody music.

Outside of his life as a musician and poet, Morrison was generally a disgraceful yet highly intelligent person, who could hold sway over a crowd of people (friends, fans) with humor and charm. But he was also known to become so intoxicated that he became repulsive, and people would avoid him or just walk away from him. These episodes happened more towards his drinking period. He'd walk into a club in L.A., talk to a woman, embarrass her with verbal abuse, and end up getting into a fight and kicked out to the street. When Morrison wasn't drinking, he was by all accounts a sharp, funny person who had a wordy sense of humor and was accommodating to his bandmates and friends. It is unfortunate that he became a victim to drinking. He had tried other substances (early on he regularly used LSD, usually in more powerful doses than what was considered normal back then), but didn't become attached to anything in particular. His constant drinking weakened his heart, and in Paris, in July 1971, after apparently trying heroin, he succumbed to heart failure, most likely, at the age of twenty-seven. This isn't official, but is widely believed. Morrison died a talented artist who couldn't shake certain demons, a wasted life and an ephemeral existence.

After having read and researched The Doors over the past 16 years, I believe it was a miracle that they were able to record six studio albums and tour for as long as they did. By 1968, their second year as a successful band, they had three albums out, and Morrison was already spinning out of control ever so gradually. It was around this time and after when he'd routinely miss rehearsals and recording sessions, sometimes going missing for a week or so. He was adopting a vagrant, almost transient lifestyle, all while being very wealthy. It seems clear that Morrison was psychopathic, or manic depressive, but was never diagnosed by a professional. He followed his muse to the end, not seeking or wanting any assistance from anyone. His narcissistic and nihilist behavior was countered by an ability to think deeply, interact productively, and display kindness. It is unfortunate that he never received the help he needed, to not only rehab his alcoholism, but to stabilize his mental welfare. Thankfully, somehow, The Doors were able to keep things together enough to release a strong body of work between 1967 and 1971.

Waiting For The Sun

Waiting For The Sun was the Doors third studio album, released in 1968. While not being a masterpiece in the minds of many critics, it is still a very important work- not because of it's mass popularity, but more so because of the diverse content heard in the album. The big hit from the album, "Hello, I Love You," was a number one single, a bombastic, fuzzy pop tune originally recorded as an early demo in 1965, when the group was named Rick & The Ravens. After this grand opening to the album, the listener is taken on a wild and unpredictable journey, through songs comprised of classical jazz, Spanish Flamenco, psychedelia, theatrical rock, even a sort of primitive heavy metal. Today, Waiting For The Sun doesn't seem to receive it's just due as a cohesive assortment of The Doors at their very best; experimental, boundary-breaking, and highly intelligent.

"Love Street" is an odd, homage to a woman, a fashionable girlfriend who's laden with material treasures but who also has conflict in relationships. "Not To Touch The Earth" is an excerpt of Jim Morrison's epic poem The Celebration Of The Lizard, the only part of the poem recorded independently in the studio as it's own song. The ominous psychedelic verses turn into choruses designed with a Russian folk motif, a galloping pulse which keeps propelling the song to faster and more manic heights. "Summer's Almost Gone" is another song from the early Doors 1965 demos, a dreamy, sleepy, slow minor blues which laments the loss of the warm season, and also symbolizes the end of a relationship. This song and it's seasonal theme is followed by another seasonally-themed song, the upbeat, Baroque-inspired "Wintertime Love." There's a certain elegance and regality in the sound not heard on any other Doors song. Interestingly, the lyrics were written by guitarist Robby Krieger, and are centered around the quasi-fantasy oasis of love and warmth amidst the cold and snow of winter. "The Unknown Soldier" continues The Doors pioneering use of rock as theater, as well as being a commentary on war (specifically the Vietnam War). It is at once a political device and a staged execution of a presumed P.O.W., complete with sound effects and acting. In 1968, no band was doing this kind of thing anywhere. It wasn't until a year later when The Who released their Tommy opera, and began acting out Tommy during live stage performances (most notably on the album Live At Leeds). But the roots to The Doors marrying rock and theater go back to the 1967 debut album The Doors, and it's Oedipal drama "The End."

"Spanish Caravan" also continues The Doors worldly adventures, moving out and beyond Los Angeles and West Coast subjects to Spain and the West Mediterranean Sea. Introduced at the start is some fine flamenco finger-style guitar courtesy of Krieger, and the song drifts from a quiet flamenco-theme into a swirling, psychedelic storm at sea, a merchant's worse nightmare. "My Wild Love" is The Doors as chain gang prisoners, in the American South, anywhere between the mid 19th century to the 1940's. This time frame is roughly when "blues" music was created, starting with slaves and their field hollers, and prisoners singing work songs. The Doors commemorate this tradition and add some vocal sound effects as the song intensifies. There are no musical instruments present besides The Doors' voices. "We Could Be So Good Together" is another earlier Doors demo re-worked for release, and it loosely follows the archetypal sixties pop song structure with a hooky organ riff, fuzz guitar harmony, and an inventive bridge. "Yes, The River Knows" is a quiet piece, a classical jazz song with a Duke Ellington feel. There is some incredible instrumental interplay between the band, and Morrison is in top form with his vocals. Thematically the words revolve around the idea of love as infinite, as a river, flowing on and on. "Five To One" might be the most crude album track ever put to tape by The Doors, a plodding keyboard-driven song with drunken vocals. The revolutionary idea of the song is that of the embattled youth against an oppressive establishment. The menacing sound is considered to be an idea of proto-typical heavy metal, without heavy guitars and all the other cliche aesthetics associated with metal. Instead, it is more of an experiment which sounds closer to Deep Purple than Black Sabbath.

Waiting For The Sun was re-released in 2007 as part of the entire remastering of The Doors main studio albums (official canon albums from 1967-71). Added to the standard eleven tracks are five bonus tracks: "Albinoni's Adagio In G Minor" is a piece The Doors recorded with a string section, and was written by Italian composer Tommaso Albinoni. The downbeat yet emotional mood of the song captivated Morrison. There are three progressive takes of "Not To Touch The Earth" which display the band in a rehearsal context. There is interesting dialogue and alternate musical sounds in these takes not heard anywhere else besides poor-sounding bootlegs. Lastly, the highlight of the bonus material is the studio recording of "The Celebration Of The Lizard" (An Experiment/Work In Progress). For years many fans wanted to have this, some resorting to piecing together various concert excerpts and bootlegs. Although not crystallized here as a completed, refined work, "Celebration" still brings the excitement and wonder heard often through the released live renditions the band played (the Madison Square Garden version from 1970 stands out among many other excellent performances). Morrison truly wanted to include the complete "Celebration" for inclusion on Waiting For The Sun, but ran into disinterest by the label and band (for fear of the album flopping under the weight of a 17-plus minute long poem set to music). The song would have taken one entire side of the LP, thus eliminating a bunch of shorter songs. No bands back then were releasing double LP's; only The Beatles were able to do to this, in November 1968, with the release of The Beatles (White Album). Morrison was thinking ahead, thinking outside of the box, as were the rest of the band, but sadly his ideas for "Celebration..." were left on the shelf for future consideration.

Foreword

I must have been around three years old when I first heard a Doors song. It was probably "Light My Fire." Ever since then, I have been mystified by them. Mystified with their sound, their aura, their magic, and their stunning originality. No band before or since The Doors has been able to come close to their patented sound: the plush, precise keyboard rhythms and leads of Ray Manzarek; the loopy slide work and gritty blues guitar of Robby Krieger; the insistent, tight, and powerful drumming of John Densmore; and the velvety warmth of Jim Morrison's vocals. Together, these guys created a brew unique and diverse for the times, perhaps on par with what The Beatles were doing in the mid-to-late sixties. There is a sense when listening to Doors music that it is at once ancient and entirely modern. "Light My Fire" and "The End" have a timeless quality about them, among other songs, seeming as though they've been around far longer than forty-four years.

The Strange Days blog is for discussing and dissecting Doors material, from the earliest Box Set demos, to the aftermath of Jim Morrison's death, to the current archival releases and shows performed by the surviving Doors.