Or, at least it seemed that way until keyboardist Ray Manzarek and guitarist Robby Krieger decided to soldier on with their current tour billed as "The Doors of the 21st Century," ignoring pending lawsuits filed by original drummer John Densmore and Morrison's parents. Recruiting Ian Astbury from the Cult to fill Morrison's sizeable leather pants (younger session musicians were hired to play bass and drums in the background), the surviving members decided to tempt fate and risk tarnishing the band's myth.

Apparently the staff at the Chronicle Pavilion Friday night was unaware of the "no limits" philosophy so often espoused at the Doors' concerts; anyone attempting to tailgate in the venue's parking lots got an earful of loudspeaker harassment from patrolling security guards. If attendees wanted to slake their thirst in the oppressive Concord heat (temperatures reached the low 100s earlier that afternoon), they'd just have to pay $7 per beer inside the grounds.

The band took the stage as the last bit of sunlight faded from the night sky, kicking things off with the familiar opening guitar notes of "Roadhouse Blues." Judging from the enthusiastic audience reaction, many of the die-hard fans willing to shell out upwards of $50 a ticket were ecstatic just to hear the Doors' classic songs live, never mind who was playing them. Astbury stayed to the background initially, letting Manzarek and Krieger stretch out instrumentally before returning to the microphone with the crowd-pleasing sing-a-long line, "I woke up this morning and got myself a beer!"

"Break On Through" followed, complete with an extended breakdown that found Astbury ticking off politicians and terrorists alike who "got high," an allusion to lyrics the band was forced to edit out when they first recorded the song. Updating the track with current events seemed to energize the band with a revolutionary fervor as they climaxed in a cathartic frenzy that, for a brief moment, erased the 30-odd years that had passed since the Doors heyday.

If anyone had concerns about how Astbury would handle the vocals, the singer quickly laid them to rest. His throaty baritone has always echoed Morrison's style, so hearing the former Cult vocalist sing Doors material seemed fairly natural to these ears. Astbury occasionally went overboard in his emulation of Morrison's theatrics with dramatic leaps from the drum riser and almost scripted, expletive-laced outbursts on certain songs, but overall, his performance came across as a respectful tribute to the late rock legend.

As it turned out, the big problem with this version of the Doors was the man who has been working hardest all these year to expand the group's mythology. Whether hamming it up with his overbearing (and largely superfluous) background vocals or spouting inane banter full of acid references and corny "remember when" meanderings between songs, Ray Manzarek almost single-handedly derailed the legitimacy of the entire proceedings.

As a keyboard player, Manzarek was competent enough, though he revealed himself to be something of a one-trick pony whenever the improvisational interplay with Krieger heated up. But every time he opened his mouth, the eyes of at least some audience members involuntarily rolled skyward. Perhaps the most egregious moment came with the one new song played during the concert. "Cop Talk" featured Manzarek trading banal "us vs. the man" lyrics with Astbury over a vaguely Doors-ish instrumental bed. If the tune was any indication of the second-rate material slated for the upcoming Doors project Manzarek gushed on and on about, fans would be advised to stick to the band's back catalogue.

The keyboardist's need to hog the spotlight was really a shame, as it marred what was otherwise a surprisingly engaging evening of Doors classics. Windbag or not, there's no question that Manzarek helped pen some of the great songs from the '60s. Whether stripping things down to just piano, guitar and vocals as the band did on "Crystal Ship" and "People Are Strange," or grooving like a psychedelic version of Booker T & the MGs on "The Changeling," the Doors proved their material has withstood the test of time.

The concert also gave Robby Krieger a chance to remind everyone in attendance that he is one of the unsung American rock guitar heroes of the psychedelic era. Finger-picking his way through screaming slide-blues solos and the delicate flamenco introduction to "Spanish Caravan," Krieger showed that he had not only retained his chops, but that he'd built upon them. At the end of the two hour and twenty minute show with extended encore versions of "Riders On the Storm" and "Light My Fire," the fans went home happy and Doors of the 21st Century could be proud that their performance was far more tribute than travesty.