Doors still powerful without Morrison

By GINA VIVINETTO, Times Pop Music Critic
© St. Petersburg Times
published May 23, 2003

http://www.sptimes.com/2003/05/23/news_pf/Artsandentertainment/Doors_still_powerful_.shtml

TAMPA - If it looks like the Doors, sounds like the Doors and calls itself the Doors, then it must be the Doors, right?

That's what the band that played Thursday to a crowd of 1,632 at Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center wanted fans to believe. Only problem is, that band, which now must legally call itself the Doors 21st Century, lost its dynamic lead singer Jim Morrison when he died in 1971 at age 27.

Three decades later, two of the Doors' original members and principal songwriters, guitarist Robby Krieger, 57, and keyboardist Ray Manzarek, 64, want to dust off old gems such as Light My Fire, Break On Through and L.A. Woman to perform live.

Enter singer Ian Astbury, 41, late of the British alt-rock band the Cult. A Morrison acolyte, and in command of a similar haunting baritone and sultry stage presence, Astbury engages the unenviable task of filling in for the late singer. (Original drummer John Densmore declined to tour and legally demands the band alter its moniker.)

The buzz, both in the press and before Thursday's show, has been filled with mixed feelings: How can the Doors play without Morrison? The singer was so striking both in his delivery and in his untethered antics - remember that famous arrest in Miami for allegedly exposing his genitalia? - that he was the Doors' primary draw.

Or was he? Thursday proved that the musical mastermind behind the Doors' bristling, brooding anthems is Krieger. If anything's changed over the years, it's that Krieger is an even more astounding guitarist. A lengthy flamenco guitar solo intro to Spanish Caravan was nothing short of breathtaking. Dressed in combat fatigue pants, Krieger bounced on his heels as he whipped out the swirling leads of L.A. Woman, one of the night's mightiest songs.

Not that any portion of the show was weak. Indeed, the band, rounded out by drummer Ty Dennis and, for the first time ever, a bassist, Angelo Barbera, plays tighter now than it did back in its drug- and drink-fueled heyday.

Astbury? He was amazing. The singer struck an admirable balance of mimicking Morrison and paying homage to him. Astbury knew all the Morrison moves, the "shamanistic" posturing, prancing, and kicks. He even tossed out famous Morrison "ad libs" ("Do you remember when we were in Africa?").

Yet, "spontaneity" is a weird thing to re-enact.

This hardly mattered to the crowd. Midway through the night's impeccably performed first number, Roadhouse Blues, this century's Doors had won over any skeptics in the crowd.

The Doors' songs belong as much to Krieger and Manzarek as to Morrison, and they've been itching to play them an awfully long time. Mr. Mojo Risin' may be dead, but the Doors are very much alive.

(thanks, Beverly)