MOJO MAGAZINE

 April 2003 issue

The Doors  Los Angeles Universal Amphitheater

by James McNair

"HELLO I LOVE YOU, BUT YOU CAN'T USE THAT NAME" ...

yes, The Cult's Ian Astbury finally lives out his Jimbo fantasies for real

Strange dream last night: The Police had reformed with Jim Morrison on vocals.   But as tonight's Doors lineup confirms, truth remains stranger than fiction.  As well as original members Ray Manzarek and Robby Krieger, the 21st century Doors feature Cult vocalist Ian Astbury, and ex-Police skinsman Stuart Copeland.  One wondered what the latter would bring and envisaged finesse.  Imagine our disappointment, then, when curtain-up reveals Copeland's absence.  Turns out he's still ailing from a mountain biking accident, and Ty Dennis, the drummer from Krieger's day band, is standing in.

Keep those drummer jokes coming, too, because tonight's show coincides with the news that the original Doors drummer, John Densmore, is seeking an injunction in the Los Angeles Superior Court.

The gist of Densmore's gripe is that a Jim Morrison-less Doors ain't worthy of the name.  Defending himself via CNN, Manzarek replied thus: "The guy who put together the band is performing with the guy who wrote Light My Fire.  If we're not The Doors, then who is?"

The musical defense is just as vehement, and Manzarek and co. begin chiseling  at your scribe's scepticism from the outset.  The sound balance is superb, and the powerful opening salvo of Roadhouse Blues and Break On Through confirms that nobody here is ready for the chicken-in-a-basket circuit.

Manzarek and Krieger are exemplary, actually, playing with admirable appetite while contrasting in all kinds of ways.  Manzarek is healthy-looking, smartly-dressed, and avuncular during anti-war-on-Iraq chats between songs.  Krieger, wearing a Jim Morrison t-shirt, looks like an aged and frayed John McEnroe.  His flamenco intro to Spanish Caravan outclasses the original studio recording, and his playing on When The Music's Over has a feral, punk quality that belies his years.

Astbury's approach is equally gung-ho; an Olympian piece of method acting  which includes submission to the Morrison wardrobe and facsimile takes on his deepest roar and highest yelping "Ow!"  Even his barnet is now styled like Jim's, and the shades he wears for the first half of the set help sustain a carefully  wrought illusion.  A huge turn-off for John Densmore, no doubt, but I go with it, stealing some 'it could be Jim' jouissance, then feeling embarrassed at my readiness to fantasise the presence of a star who could, let's face it, be a bit of an arse.

During Ghost Song, a dance troupe dressed as Native Americans provides spectacle, but it's the one moment when things get too cosy, too close to musical theatre.  By Soul Kitchen, though, we're witnessing a genuine rock 'n' roll insurrection, security grappling with, then falling to, scores of stage invaders  who bring proceedings to a wonderfully chaotic close.  "Go home, drink something, smoke a number and do the old in-out, in-out!" shouts a triumphant Manzarek.  What a card.

The Doors set list:  Roadhouse Blues / Break On Through / When The Music's Over / Love Me Two Times / Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar) / Backdoor Man / Five To One / People Are Strange / Strange Days / Ghost Song / Moonlight Drive / Wild Child /  LA Woman / Light My Fire / Riders On The Storm / Maggie M'Gill / Peace Frog / Soul Kitchen

(thanks, David M.)

Note:  the date of this concert was Friday, February 7, 2003

For other reviews of this concert, go here

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