Showing posts with label The Doors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Doors. Show all posts

CD Review: Vanilla Fudge – Spirit of '67

CD Review: Vanilla Fudge  Spirit of '67
Cleopatra Records
All Access Rating: B+

Vanilla Fudge - Spirit of '67
Slowing the Supremes' hit "You Keep Me Hangin' On" to an agonized, lysergic crawl was a stroke of genius for Vanilla Fudge, as it dragged their eponymous debut collection of heavy, acid-rock covers of Beatles' classics and '60s R&B remakes up the charts in 1967.

All these years later, a reinvigorated Vanilla Fudge seeks to recapture the Spirit of '67 with a similar approach on a lively and refreshingly reverent album of reworked versions of some of that year's most popular and enduring classics.

Sounding rich and vibrant, Spirit of '67 – out via Cleopatra Records – serves up the strong, signature vocal harmonies, thick Hammond organ swirls, altered arrangements and thundering drums of Carmine Appice Vanilla Fudge is known for, as the Who's "I Can See For Miles" morphs into a dynamic, psychedelic funk workout, the Doors' "Break On Through (To The Other Side)" is perfumed with the exotic, Middle Eastern tones of Zeppelin's "Kashmir" and "Gimme Some Lovin'" becomes a bluesy stomp. And yet, what's missing is that sense of originality and innovation that made that first Vanilla Fudge LP such a breath of fresh air, the gloomy temperament of the band's work of yesteryear having mostly dissipated. Fudge's moods on Spirit of '67 are as varied as the uniquely different passages they carve into these well-loved songs.

Still sunny and radiant, though less joyful and buoyant, the Monkees' "I'm a Believer" brakes to more of a mid-tempo groove, while "Ruby Tuesday" And "Whiter Shade of Pale" assume different shapes, trading haunting atmospherics for more powerful, fleshed-out instrumentation. In "The Letter," lush piano parts give way to a more raucous mid-section, channeling the raw emotions of its lyrics. The spirit is still willing with Vanilla Fudge.
– Peter Lindblad 

CD Review: Monster Magnet – Milking the Stars: a reimagining of Last Patrol

CD Review: Monster Magnet – Milking the Stars: a reimagining of Last Patrol
Napalm Records
All Access Rating: A-

Monster Magnet - Milking the Stars:
a reimagining of Last Patrol 2014
Dave Wyndorf must have his reasons, although a remake of Monster Magnet's space-rock epic Last Patrol, one of the best albums of 2013, seems completely unnecessary.

Then again, Wyndorf is a maverick, artistically unpredictable and full of sonic mischief. He doesn't have to explain himself to anybody. He just does the unexpected and then wonders why everyone makes such a big damn fuss about it.

Wyndorf did that with Last Patrol, summoning forgotten tones and archaic, alien sonic transmissions from resurrected vintage gear to create brilliant, tripped-out aural carnivals of cinematic, swirling, retro psychedelia traveling through the deepest recesses of the universe to entertain misanthropic, burned-out cosmic cowboys with cynical hearts and sinful natures. This, however, is an even riskier venture.

On Milking the Stars: a reimagining of Last Patrol, released by Napalm Records, Wyndorf takes a stab at redesigning these playgrounds, and the alterations – most of them of the "tripping balls" variety – are more than cosmetic. Take "Let The Circus Burn" and "Mindless Ones '68" for example, the latter a more hallucinogenic reinterpretation of Last Patrol's title track that burrows deep into a very warped subconscious, as only Hawkwind could. "Mindless Ones '68," on the other hand, nicks hypnotic organ sounds out of the very hands of The Doors' Ray Manzarek and seems to swirl weightlessly into the harrowing oblivion of a black hole, losing its moorings in an LSD-induced nightmare.

While the production of Last Patrol was scrubbed pretty clean, Milking the Stars is a wild and woolly ride,  "No Paradise for Me" sounding more corrosive and cosmic than the original "Paradise" and the driving "End of Time" coming in hot at a lower elevation, hitting the runway with compromised brakes, Evangelical fervor and strong gusts of B-3 organ. And while most of Milking the Stars is spent looking for a empathetic guide to help it through what is surely a terrifying acid trip, it contains a howling version of "Hallelujah" – titled "Hellelujah (Fuzz and Swamp)" – that is a bluesier, more organic stomp raised from the Mississippi Delta. Clearly, some deal between Wyndorf and the devil has transpired.

Next time, maybe he can tackle an even bigger job, like repainting the Sistene Chapel.
– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: John Garcia – John Garcia

CD Review: John Garcia – John Garcia
Napalm Records
All Access Rating: B+

John Garcia - John Garcia 2014
The name John Garcia still carries a lot of weight among glazed-over dwellers of the desert/stoner metal community. People there will never forget what he did with the archetypal Kyuss, having blazed rough trails through the most unforgiving of sonic terrain.

There are cults that would kill for the kind of devotion Garcia and the rest of Kyuss have inspired. And although Josh Homme has gone on to bigger and better things with Queens Of The Stone Age, his Kyuss co-founder has not so quietly built an impressive and remarkably consistent catalog of recordings with projects such as Slo-Burn, Unida, Hermano and, most recently, Vista Chino.

That arid, distant voice of his a dagger cutting straight through the sonic haze, vague menace and hypnotic pull of a sub-genre he helped establish, Garcia goes the lone-wolf route on this his first solo album, out on Napalm Records. Leaner and more clean-shaven than other works his name's been attached to, although some of the fuzz remains, John Garcia is a record with a strong pulse and an undeniable affinity for the brawny riffs and catchy hooks of '70s classic rock, as "5000 Miles" sounds like ZZ Top trying to swim its way out of quicksand and the steely, acoustically sketched closer "Her Bullets Energy" reminiscent of Led Zeppelin's brushed folk supplications, with a little Spanish guitar thrown in for good measure.

And while "Argleben," heavy and trance-inducing, is deep-fried in distortion and stuck in great, thick groove ruts – the album is full of them – "My Mind" rides with Steppenwolf into dark skies rumbling with heavy-metal thunder, all the while brandishing guitars wrapped in barbed-wire. Every song on John Garcia is sinister and seductive, sounding mean as hell on the agitated, pounding post-punk engagement "All These Walls." He swims with especially strong currents in the rugged, mid-tempo, swinging hammer "Rolling Stoned," the deliriously infectious "Saddleback" and the spellbinding, serpentine "Flower," as a sense of unease pervades the throbbing "His Bullets Energy," its slashing guitars and unpredictable bass counter melody stalking its prey with murderous intentions and practically begging for a restraining order.

Notwithstanding the sluggish blues of "Confusion" and its equally sedentary "The Blvd," John Garcia crackles with energy and brands its deep, dynamic grooves into your brain. Guests like Danko Jones, Nick Oliveri and Doors guitarist Robbie Krieger – his intricate work can be found on "Her Bullets Energy" – go with Garcia on this vision quest and help him discover his true nature.
– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Rob Zombie – Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor


Rob Zombie – Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor
Zodiac Swan Records/T-Boy Productions/UMe
All Access Rating: A-

Rob Zombie - Venomous Rat
Regeneration Vendor 2013
Translated from some weird lost language that only Rob Zombie understands, “Ging Gang Gong De Do Gong De Laga Raga” probably has some fiendishly obscene meaning, especially considering that in the pummeling chaos of the track – off his latest album, the awesomely titled Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor – he’s heard exhorting anyone within earshot to “rally round the girl with the skull on her ass.” Either that or Zombie has suddenly begun speaking in tongues.

Another seething, all-consuming cauldron of mind-bending heavy metal riffage, dizzying dance beats, industrial brutality, electronic unease and Zombie’s demented fantasies all mashed together, Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor might be his most visceral and entertaining album to date. Amplified by massive, full-throated production values, it’s an aural carnival of cartoonish horror and rip-roaring debauchery, with mean, explosive rock ’n’ roll freak shows like “Behold, the Pretty Filthy Creatures!,” “White Trash Freaks,” “Lucifer Rising”  and “Trade in Your Guns for a Coffin” getting right up in your face and spitting in it. They roar out of the speakers like runaway freight trains. At the controls, Zombie is the mad conductor, but it’s his equally demented assistant, that clever boy John 5, who churns out riff after heady riff, each one more insanely dynamic and unexpectedly potent than the last and seemingly packed with enough dynamite to blow a mile-wide hole in a mountain of rock.

While Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor is capable of generating awesome power, Zombie and his evil henchmen aren't satisfied with simply throwing their impressive weight around, even though the stomping opener “Teenage Nosferatu Pussy” is one of the heaviest tracks ever committed to a Zombie record. Updating The Doors’ “The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)” for the new millennium, the swinging “Dead City Radio and the New Gods of Supertown” – thrown around by swirling organ and crushed under the heel of Five’s grinding guitars – swaggers like a drunken cad, spilling his drink and eyeing up easy girls. And then there’s something insidiously infectious sweeping through “Rock and Roll (in a Black Hole)” like a full-on pandemic, the spare electronic beats giving way to a raging, head-spinning cyclone of raucous metal energy.

Again, Zombie loves to draw the most ludicrously evil images with words, including this little nugget of wisdom from “White Trash Freaks”: “She’s a Warhol painting heading west/I love Ringo across her breast/covering a nasty pitbull scar/life ain’t shit/if you ain’t a star.” And he relishes taking on absurd new identities, like “dirty pig alley Dan” and “King Kong raisin bran” in “Ging Gang Gong De Do Gong De Laga Raga.” A literary Salvador Dali, Zombie’s writings often sound as if they are the product of terrifying acid trips. He does come down to sleepwalk his way through a rather nondescript and tepid reading of Grand Funk Railroad’s “We’re an American Band,” but the rest of Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor is a delicious descent into madness, a hell ride of crazed, breathtaking intensity and almost manic mood swings. Buy a ticket to the show. You won’t ask for a refund. (universalmusicenterprises.com)
– Peter Lindblad

Best of 2012 - Classic Rock


Rush, Thin Lizzy, The Doors, ZZ Top find fountain of youth
By Peter Lindblad
Shaking off the rust that inevitably comes with old age, a number of classic-rock artists showed everybody that they refuse to go gently into that good night.
Rolling Stones - Grrr! 2012
Whether it was the Rolling Stones’ revving up their best song in years with “Doom and Gloom,” or Aerosmith bringing their own brand of “Global Warming” to the masses in live shows that were full of piss and vigor, old greats like those icons, as well as KISS and Bruce Springsteen, burned their AARP cards and did the kind of great work – be it in the studio, as with Springsteen’s Wrecking Ball or Heart’s Fanatic, or on the road – expected of them 20 or 30 years ago.
There were incredible songs, such as Springsteen’s “We Take Care of Our Own” or Joe Walsh’s “Analog Man,” and albums like KISS’s Monster that had unexpected vitality and inspired performances. And tours like the Loverboy/Journey/Pat Benatar triple bill served notice that many of these bands are still capable of delivering the goods onstage. Truly, though, one band rose above them all in 2012, putting out one of the best records of their career and finally getting their just due from critics, while other releases simply outshined the competition. Here’s the best classic rock had to offer in 2012.
Artist of the Year: Rush
Rush - Clockwork Angels 2012
Voters for the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame finally saw the light in 2012. After shunning Rush for so long, they did the right thing for once and selected the Canadian progressive-rock power trio for membership, perhaps earning them some small measure of goodwill from their harshest detractors – although they stand to be inundated with slings and arrows for denying Deep Purple again, and deservedly so. What exactly was it that tipped the scales for Rush this time around? Could it be the fact that they produced one of the year’s best albums in Clockwork Angels? Undoubtedly, that had something to do with it, especially when critics that had been unkind – to put it charitably – toward Rush in the past gave in and applauded a record of sublime beauty, complex musicianship and soaring ambition. A sci-fi concept album with a compelling anti-authoritarian narrative, steam-punk imagery and coming-of-age drama, Clockwork Angels is a tour de force of heavy, intricately constructed guitars (see “Headlong Flight” and “BU2B” for proof), crafty melodies, shifting moods and textures, and epic arrangements – in other words, a Rush album. Sometimes the Rock Hall voters need to be hit over the head a number of times before they finally get it, and it seems that Rush knocked some sense into them in 2012.
Album of the Year: ZZ Top – La Futura (Universal Republic)
ZZ Top - La Futura 2012
La Futura, as it turns out, is deeply rooted in ZZ Top’s past, and that makes it a welcome sight in 2012. A spicy, simmering pot full to the brim of Texas blues-fired boogie, with some of the tastiest licks Billy Gibbons has cooked up in quite a while – this being ZZ Top’s first album in nine years – La Futura is nasty and mean from jump-street, with tracks like “Chartreuse,” “Big Shiny Nine” and “I Don’t Wanna Lose, You” recalling the wicked, dusty Panhandle grooves of dirty classics like “La Grange,” “Tush” and “Cheap Sunglasses.” Like a strutting striptease, the tantalizing “Consumption” is trashy, honky-tonkin’ fun, while the soulful “Over You” is a surprisingly tender and heartfelt love song that comes straight out of the Stax Records playbook. And even though a lot of La Futura harkens back to 1973, it has a modern production sheen to it that doesn’t tame these lions, and the first single, “I Gotsta Get Paid,” has more swagger and tight, stop-start hooks than the Black Keys could ever hope to obtain.
Song of the Year: Rush – “The Wreckers” (off of the album Clockwork Angels on Roadrunner Records)
No one has ever accused Rush of sounding like R.E.M. or The Byrds or Matthew Sweet, and there’s good reason for that. Jangly power-pop has never been Rush’s cup of tea – that is, until now. There’s a bright, sunny quality to the guitars in the intro and the verses to “The Wreckers” that couldn’t possibly sound less like Rush, and yet there it is. And it reaches out its hand to invite you in, a warm smile on Geddy Lee’s face and Alex Lifeson’s colorful guitar licks beckoning with a shiny, happy sound that may or may not hide a dark truth. Be careful of these men, for they are not what they seem. Ultimately, they want to warn you that what is sometimes sold as the truth can often be a lie, as Lee sings in the transcendent choruses, “All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary of a miracle too good to be true.” “The Wreckers,” on the other hand, is not. At the very least it is angelic. Awash in swerving, swooping strings and cinematic keyboards, those magical, glorious choruses where a world-weary Lee dispenses that sage advice are some of the most emotionally powerful and soul-stirring moments Rush has ever brought to bear on record. And there is a bridge in “The Wreckers” that is dangerous to cross, for it traverses a deep, wide canyon of synthesizers, crashing drums and doom-laden guitars that is simply magnificent to behold. Do not be wary of “The Wreckers.” It might not be a miracle, but it’s pretty damn close.
Best Concert DVD: The Doors at the Bowl ‘68 (Eagle Vision)
The Doors - Live at The Bowl '68 2012
For its historic value alone, “The Doors at the Bowl ‘68” is heads and shoulders above any concert DVD released this year. Restored in painstaking fashion from the original camera negatives, the band’s entire performance from that night is included here, and it features the band in high spirits. Loose and improvisational when the occasion calls for it, the threesome of John Densmore, Ray Manzarek and Robby Krieger could go on endless journeys into the jungles of the musical subconscious, but they could be tight and sinewy. Playing at the famed Hollywood Bowl for the first time – in the area they called home, no less – The Doors set the night on fire, and a particularly impish and focused Jim Morrison howled and sang with a primal energy that only he could summon. An abundance of incisive and fascinating bonus features put the event into perspective and the inclusion of performances of “Hello, I Love You,” “The WASP (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)” and “Spanish Caravan” that had previously been lost to time have found their way back. And it’s good to have them again.    
Best Documentary DVD: Freddie Mercury – The Great Pretender (Eagle Vision)
Onstage, Freddie Mercury was indestructible, a force of nature whose flamboyant showmanship knew no bounds and whose voice rang out as clear as a bell in loud stadiums full of adoring fans who hung on his every word – that is, when they weren’t singing along with him. That was the Freddie the world knew. But, in his personal life, Mercury was less sure of himself, a man who sometimes made mistakes and was a slave to his appetites. “Freddie Mercury – The Great Pretender” explores every facet of the singer’s extraordinary life, from his globe-trotting childhood through his wildly successful, if sometimes contentious, studio work with Queen and on to his fascination with opera and the ups and downs of his inconsistent solo work. Loaded with archival images and video footage – including sensational live material – “Freddie Mercury – The Great Pretender” also packs in revealing, insightful commentary and fascinating anecdotes from Brian May, Roger Taylor and a host of other Queen confidantes. It’s a loving portrait of an artist who died too young, and yet, it’s a completely honest rendering that pulls no punches. Mercury probably wouldn’t have it any other way. 
Best Live Album: Thin Lizzy – Live in London 2011 (Four Worlds USA)
Thin Lizzy - Live in London 2011
Phil Lynott isn’t going to come walking through that door … ever again. He’s gone, but the amazing rock ‘n’ roll he left behind deserves to be heard in a live setting, doesn’t it? And who better to play it than Thin Lizzy survivors Scott Gorham and Brian Downey. A fitting tribute to their fallen friend, this concert LP is 19 tracks of explosive hard-rock, containing all the Thin Lizzy hits and then some in a fantastic set list. The mix is primed for optimum power, and this collection of musicians performs classics like “Jailbreak,” “Cowboy Song” and “The Boys are Back in Town” with grit, enthusiasm and swashbuckling panache, those well-executed, signature twin-guitar leads tangled up so exquisitely like ballroom dancers twirling around on the edge of a switchblade. There’s a lot of ground to cover with Thin Lizzy, and this particular incarnation does its best to thumb through the catalog and pick out only the choicest cuts. It’s a flawed record, to be sure, but there’s no doubting the joy and electricity with which Lizzy performs these classics. Word has it that some of the boys from this version of Lizzy are starting a new band called Black Star Riders. Based on this release, which in my eyes becomes more thrilling with repeated listens, expectations should be exceedingly high for them.
Best Reissue: Blue Oyster Cult – The Columbia Albums Collection (Legacy Recordings
Blue Oyster Cult - The Columbia Albums Collection 2012
The word “exhaustive” doesn’t even begin to describe this archeological dig. For starters, this set, released in celebration of Blue Oyster Cult’s 40th anniversary, gathers together every last one of their studio albums released between 1972 and 1988, from their self-titled debut LP on through to Imaginos. That means it includes classic albums such as Agents of Fortune, Spectres, Fire of Unknown Origin, and Cultosaurus Erectus, among others. Oh, and did I mention the live albums? On Your Feet or on Your Knees, Some Enchanted Evening and Extraterrestrial Live are remastered for greater sonic impact and expansiveness. Packed to the gills with great photos and fascinating liner notes, there is a 40-page booklet that accompanies the collection, which is packaged so snugly and efficiently that it won’t throw your cataloging system – if you have one – completely out of whack. You want rarities? There’s a disc for that, too, plus another that gathers as many of their radio broadcasts as they can find and downloads and a bushel full of bonus tracks. Where other classic-rock artists, or rather their record labels, seem to take pleasure in releasing their past works in dribs and drabs, offering very little in the way of rare stuff, Blue Oyster Cult has done it in one fell swoop and they have given the people what they wanted.
Best Book: Gregg Allman – My Cross to Bear (William Morrow)


Gregg Allman - My Cross to Bear 2012
Written in collaboration with esteemed music journalist Alan Light, “My Cross to Bear” finds Gregg Allman in a reflective, confessional mood. Ambling easily through the past, Allman takes his time getting to the real meat of the story, but when he does, the tales he tells are sometimes unsettling, occasionally funny, and often heartbreaking. Life, love, drugs and music – that’s what Allman’s book is about, and it’s a portrayal that isn’t a flattering one. Looking into the mirror, Allman sees his flaws in sharp relief and is willing to expose them for all to read. Once you get past all the self-excoriating personal revelations, there is plenty of behind-the-scenes information on the Allman Brothers to excite fans of their music.

DVD Review: The Doors - Live at the Bowl '68


DVD Review: The Doors - Live at the Bowl ‘68
Eagle Vision
All Access Review: A
The Doors - Live at the Bowl '68
Holding his guitar like a rifle, The Doors’ Robby Krieger takes aim at Jim Morrison. Always up for anything, the singer wanted to stage a mock execution during “The Unknown Soldier,” and Krieger went along with the gag, simulating the recoil action of a gun as Morrison fell like a sack of potatoes. Only six months had passed since Morrison’s notorious onstage arrest in New Haven, Connecticut, and he was, perhaps, beginning to feel as if he had a target on his back, put there by his friends in law enforcement. Confrontations between Morrison, The Doors and the police in the aftermath of that incident would continue, confirming his suspicions.
Unlike that surreal evening in December of 1967 when Morrison fought the law and didn’t win, he wouldn’t be hauled away in handcuffs when The Doors – feeling on top of the world – brought their psychedelic circus to the Hollywood Bowl on July 5, 1968, the concert where Morrison took that imaginary bullet from Krieger. Filmed at the behest of The Doors, it turned out to be a landmark performance for the band and the unpredictable Morrison, ever the fearless shaman and the enigmatic poet. Now, at a time when pettiness and fear seem to have the masses in their clutches and Morrison’s philosophy of liberation is but an echo from the distant past, the definitive document of that celebrated event arrives, a DVD account titled “Live at the Bowl ‘68” that cleans out the dust and the cobwebs and showcases the focused synergy and hallucinatory fervor The Doors could muster when properly motivated. Rising to the occasion, The Doors run through rousing, spirited versions of “Alabama Song (Whisky Bar),” “Hello, I Love You,” “The Unknown Soldier” and “Back Door Man” with vim and vigor, their swirling mania and spirit of adventure driving them onward and upward.
And whenever Morrison gets the itch to veer off course and journey into the unknown, whether his fellow travelers are familiar with the imagined terrain or strangers in the strangest and wildest country one could possibly hope to explore, Krieger, Ray Manzarek and John Densmore are unafraid to follow. With their own loose, freewheeling and almost alien improvisation – oftentimes emitting harsh dissonance and throwing together shapeless sonic juxtapositions – negotiating safe passage through the borderless wilderness of “Horse Latitudes,” “A Little Game” and “The Hill Dwellers,” The Doors coalesce into the more recognizable cadre of gypsy artists commissioned to paint the rich, mysterious hues and golden frames of “Spanish Caravan.” It’s as if the know just what loose thread to pull and let everything unravel, before knitting the elements back together into stronger and more vivid weavings than those captured on in the studio.
Under The Doors’ hypnotic spell, the crowd jolts bolt upright when Morrison screams, “Wake Up!” And while Morrison lashes out with terrifying invective, that trio noisily devolves and breaks apart, embodying the decay and caged-animal frustration that drives Morrison’s delivery. Then, right on cue, The Doors launch into “Light My Fire” – which, along with “The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)” and the aforementioned “Spanish Caravan,” had been MIA previously from the film but are now part of it – with wild-eyed fury, building up to a powerful sonic orgasm of whirling organ, trampling drums and frenzied guitar. All of which leads them to the mysterious, apocalyptic visions of “The End.”
Restored to glorious effect, the audio and video of this event, one of the biggest and most transcendent events in the history of The Doors, couldn’t be more pristine. A vintage look is maintained, and the expressions on Morrison’s face, captured so artfully by the cameramen working this particular job, are priceless, although more close-ups on Krieger and Densmore, in particular, as they worked at their craft would have been appreciated. Even on that Spartan stage, so big and wide for three people intensely concentrating on their playing their parts and one snake charmer with a wry smile and a gift for making dream-like language submit to his will, The Doors – surrounded by an obscene amount of amps – seemed more gods than men. And the extra bonus features, including the mini-documentaries “Echoes from the Past” and “You had to be There,” are wonderfully informative nostalgia trips that tell the engrossing story of this occasion – as well as that of The Doors in general – in great detail, mining the memory banks of the remaining members of The Doors, the opening band The Chambers Brothers, and the Doors’ engineer Bruce Botnick in casual conversations that have the feel of barroom chats.
Unfortunately, we never do find out for sure if Morrison was on acid that night, as has been rumored over the years. Nevertheless, though somewhat compromised, the original footage is sublime, shot from angles that expertly capture the heightened tension and different moods of The Doors that June night in 1968, but never seeming intrusive or obnoxious. Quite lucid and even playful, Morrison was in rare form, and it’s apparent that the importance of this moment is not lost on him or the rest of them. And for those who worked on this new packaging, which includes fascinating liner notes culled from Botnick that read like a detailed tour diary entry from that special date in Doors lore, they recognize it as well.

-            Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: The Doors - Mr. Mojo Risin' - The Story of L.A. Woman

DVD Review: The Doors - Mr. Mojo Risin': The Story of L.A. Woman
Eagle Rock Entertainment
All Access Review: B+


In a very real sense, after Jim Morrison’s infamous Miami arrest on morals charges and public drunkenness, The Doors as a whole were subject to house arrest. The south Florida homecoming for Morrison at the Dinner Key Auditorium, packed with 14,000 people, was the first stop on The Doors’ 1969 tour, and it was a night nobody would ever forget. Perhaps it even signaled that the end was near.
Three sheets to the wind, and perhaps inspired by seeing the confrontational performance of the experimental theater group The Living Theatre the night before, the Lizard King was in no mood to sing. And so, during “Break on Through,” he began a confused rant that at once embraced the slavish adoration of the crowd – noting his Floridian roots – and then turned on them with blazing hostility, rebuking them as conformists and calling them “f**king idiots” and “slaves,” while expressing his love for a weirder and wilder locale, his adopted playground Los Angeles.
It’s all there on screen in the documentary “Mr. Mojo Risin’: The Story of L.A. Woman,” which follows the making of The Doors’ magnificent coda, the slice of gritty, sinister blues and dark, surreal jazz known as L.A. Woman that would turn out to be Morrison’s last studio recording. There’s Morrison threatening to expose his genitalia for all to see. There’s Morrison feigning oral sex on guitarist Robby Krieger. And then, of course, there are the clueless cops hauling away a bemused Morrison, who seems completely satisfied with the circus-like chaos and complete disorder he has so diabolically orchestrated. But, maybe, just maybe, there was more to Morrison’s actions than a simple desire to create all-out anarchy. By this time, Morrison’s notoriety had already become the stuff of legend – people had taken to calling them the “dirty Doors” as Manzarek relates in the film – and the alcohol was doing a lot of the talking, leading to arrests and tales, whether made up or true, of incredible hedonism. But, as Manzarek explains, Morrison had some questions for the Miami audience and everybody else who wanted a piece of The Doors, one of them being, “What do you want from us?” Morrison might have been asking the same question of himself.
As longtime music writer David Fricke argues, the implications of Morrison’s actions probably affected him the most. The threat of going to Rayford Penitentiary and losing his freedom, even if for only a matter of months, weighed heavily on a man who valued that above all else. In the short term, all the legal complications forced The Doors to cancel that ill-fated tour. Left with nothing better to do since they really couldn’t go anywhere to play – nervous venue owners didn’t want anything to do with such outrageous behavior and banned them from most of the halls in the U.S.  – The Doors responded by going back in the studio to record what would become L.A. Woman, and “Mr. Mojo Risin’” offers a competent, if somewhat pedestrian, creation story.
The sessions, as producer Paul Rothschild tells it in vintage interview footage, did not begin well. Morrison seemed disinterested, and the music, at least to Rothschild’s ears, was uninspiring. Even Manzarek admits the playing was sub-par, and Krieger relates that Rothschild even felt “Riders on the Storm” sounded like lame cocktail music. In a move that stunned The Doors, Rothschild parted ways with the band, leaving The Doors to their own devices and top-notch engineer Bruce Botnick. The story of Rothschild’s departure and how it resulted in the band taking control of its music is handled with the utmost care, as all sides are given equal time. In fact, there is great honesty and detail that emerge from interviews with all the living Doors, Botnick and a cast of seemingly thousands.
Musicologists will wet themselves over the attention paid to the recording process behind L.A. Woman and the studio magic – which returned for The Doors when they left the drab, lifeless Sunset Sound studio for the livelier environs of their rehearsal and office space on Santa Monica Boulevard, where their music was “seeped into the walls,” as drummer John Densmore so vividly recounts – that gave birth to some of the most memorable songs in the band’s catalog. One moment, Manzarek is telling how the soft, rain-like piano parts for “Riders on the Storm” developed and how Elvis’s bassist Jerry Scheff, who sat in and played on L.A. Woman, was dumbfounded as to how to recreate thosee bass parts on his instrument; the next, the disagreement over whether “Love Her Madly” should have been the first single is rehashed, with Elektra Records founder Jac Holzman recalling how it raised the hair on the back of his neck and Krieger saying he thought it was “too commercial.”
Packed to the gills with revelatory and enthusiastic interviews and vintage photography and video footage of both candid, behind-the-scenes moments and blood-pumping live segments, “Mr. Mojo Risin’” is nothing if not comprehensive. The story of every song on L.A. Woman, with the possible exception of “Cars Hiss by My Window,” gets its own time in the sun, and the filmmakers take great pains to examine the bones and the guts of tracks like the stomping, swampy blues of “Crawling King Snake” and the simmering heat and seedy noir of “L.A. Woman,” a song that captures the essence of the city, it’s literary underbelly and its women and pays tribute to them all in Morrison’s vivid poetry. With Botnick at the sound board and Densmore, Krieger and Manzarek at their instruments, the musical evolution of key moments in each track are intensely explored, as are Morrison’s lyrics, pregnant with metaphor and primal, dream-like imagery.
What crashes the party is … well, the lack of anything resembling a good time. On occasion, “Mr. Mojo Risin’” begins to drift off and become tedious and dry, an academic paper come to life in documentary film form. While smartly emphasizing the actual blood, sweat and tears behind L.A. Woman rather than the sensationalism that seems to dog other Doors’ biographies, the filmmakers treat the subject matter with little wit and a seriousness that colors it in grey rather than the rich, bold hues and apocalyptic psychedelic paints the Doors brushed onto the canvas of their music. Still, the documentary doesn’t pander to the lowest common denominator. It is an intelligent and affecting history, especially as it relates to Morrison’s jetting off to Paris with girlfriend Pamela Courson after his vocals for L.A. Woman were done and the sense among friends and band mates that he wasn’t coming back.
One of the draws to this DVD is the appearance of a new Doors song, “She Smells So Nice,” included in the bonus features. A swinging, bluesy number that jumps off the dance floor of a southern backwoods juke joint, “She Smells So Nice” sweats heavily and steps lively as a cavalcade of Doors still pictures from days gone by passes through – that is before the song morphs into a slow-cooked, tantalizing stew of savory guitar notes, subtle brushed drums and neon electric keyboard lights. Even if the film isn’t quite as glorious or as transcendent as The Doors were, it does its job with workmanlike attention to detail and a tenacious desire to get the story right, to do it justice. And, in the end, isn’t that what we all want from a music documentary?
 - Peter Lindblad

Official Trailer from Eagle Rock:

DVD Review: The Doors "When You’re Strange"

DVD Review: The Doors "When You’re Strange" 
All Access Review:  A-

Inscribed on Jim Morrison’s Paris grave marker is a Latin phrase that, when translated to English, is said to mean “True to his Own Spirit.” Morrison’s estranged father, Admiral George C. Morrison, a man who admits to not really knowing his son the rock god all that well – something many in the Doors’ inner circle can relate to – claims to have chosen those words on the advice of a former language teacher. The by-the-book Navy man, so different from his wild-child offspring, got it right with this farewell tribute.

So does The Doors documentary “When You’re Strange,” now out on DVD through Eagle Vision. Where Oliver Stone’s feature bio-pic, “The Doors,” infamously played fast and loose with the facts, failed in epic fashion to capture the dark, mysterious essence of that most enigmatic and alluringly surreal of late-‘60s, early –‘70s counter-culture bands, this Tom DiCillo directed effort is unfailing in its quest for the truth. That is to say that it’s almost always on point whether reciting what really happened in The Doors’ brief, but incendiary, heydays in astonishingly rich and visually captivating detail or re-creating the swirling madness that swallowed up one cult hero and three serious musicians who, as guitarist Robby Krieger put it, made music that was more “symbolic than straight to the point.”

Of course, it helps to have a wealth of never-before-seen archival footage at your disposal. What’s your pleasure? Beguiling, and often riotous and unpredictable, live performances, some of it from landmark moments in Doors’ history, including the Miami incident and more of Morrison’s very public brushes with the law? What about candid vintage interviews with Morrison, Krieger, Ray Manzarek and John Densmore in which they try to explain the unexplainable, namely how their hypnotic music actually makes sense? There’s even film of The Doors at leisure and offstage rehearsals, of members’ lives before the band, plus Morrison’s prophetic movie of his own afterlife, a high-speed journey through a desert in a Mustang Cobra into the great unknown. Were that all there was to “When You’re Strange” it would be merely a funhouse of disparate images. What sets “When You’re Strange” apart is how artfully DiCillo and company pull it all together, with Doors’ songs like the funereal dirge “The End,” the ramshackle, carnival of sound that doubles as the film’s title, and other hits from the catalog gnashing their teeth above the surreal dreamscape of well-edited imagery.

And then there’s Johnny Depp’s deadpan narration, reminiscent of that of Martin Sheen in “Apocalypse Now.” Suitably dry and unobtrusive, Depp breathes gloom and tension into a script that, thankfully, offers a fairly in-depth and intelligent study of the musical chemistry of Manzarek, Krieger and Densmore before digging, with appropriate respect and very little sensationalism, into Morrison’s writings, his descent into alcoholism and its divisive effect on the band, and, ultimately, the cloudy circumstances surrounding his death in Paris. Add in intimate and revealing interviews with Morrison’s father, recorded prior to his death in 2008, and his sister, and what you get is a documentary that is dreamy, intoxicating and pure cinematic poetry.


-Peter Lindblad



Eagle Vision The Doors: When You’re Strange