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Rating: For some time now, it seems to be all the rage on DeBaser to review the Live performances of the Doors: by doing so, performances are often assessed that neither detract from nor add to the legend of the Doors of Perception... yet there are some live performances that deserve a minimum of attention from enthusiasts.
Sure, you'd say: you review it, so it's worth it; someone else's work is rubbish. Evil-minded.
But let's go in order. A few weeks ago, I got hold of the documentary in English "Strange Days", yet another superfluous video testimony that retraces the career of the Doors. Nothing transcendental or new, mind you, but an excerpt from the documentary caught my attention. In a segment of an interview with Grace Slick, the historic voice of Jefferson Airplane recounts an anecdote about Morrison, which occurred during a concert involving both bands in Amsterdam, in '68.
During the Airplane's performance, our Jimbo, under the influence of drugs and alcohol, got on stage and began to dance to the notes of Plastic Fantastic Lover, before collapsing. The Doors' frontman was declared unable to sing that night, but the remaining Doors, showing great professionalism, decided to perform anyway, with Manzarek on vocals as well as the faithful combo organ.
Slick continues praising the keyboardist's performance, calling him "an extraordinary musician." As a good fan of Doors and Airplane, taking the lovely Grace's words at face value, I decided I had to get my hands on that live performance and listen to it.
And here is the review:
The audio quality is terrible, but one thing shines brightly from a sea of reverberations: a great rage or maybe frustration. The Doors perform their songs with great strength and vigor, and Manzarek's warm voice, not too dissimilar from Morrison's, fits well with the group's classic tracks: Break on Through, Light My Fire, Hello I Love You and a medley Alabama Song/Back Door Man flow by without ever stalling. No room for the poetic performances of Mr. Mojo Risin here; what dominates are the whispers of Krieger's guitar and the piercing screams of Manzarek's Vox Continental.
The band, reduced to only three members, plays as if they had never done otherwise, indeed with almost unprecedented freedom and freshness. This makes one reflect on how difficult it must have been to deal daily with Morrison's unique genius. Unfortunately, as is well known, after the death of the Lizard King, the remaining three Doors were unable to produce works at the level of the previous ones, raising the suspicion that the superior Genius, the Quid, the Light of the group truly resided only in Jimbo: yet the Doors, that evening, played really great, showcasing their talent, a talent that had remained too long in the shadow of their charismatic leader.
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