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April
24, 2003
The Doors 21st Century at Roseland
Glyn Emmerson
The
Doors took to the stage with the operatic Carmina Burana
booming throughout the house as if a séance and calling to
the spirit of Jim Morrison were taking place. From the opening riff
of Roadhouse Blues to the closer, The Doors sent the crowd
on a cosmic trip to the dark side of the turbulent sixties and back
thru the grinder of time to our current crises and the band's (they
are being sued by original drummer John Densmore, Stewart Copeland
of The Police and the Morrison estate over use of the name and tour).
At the Roseland original members Robby Krieger
and Ray Manzarek resurrected The Doors canon from what could have
been a night of oldies hell, into a seething, breathing and ferocious
unit that bit, spat and stroked the cock of time.
Singer Ian Astbury from The Cult funneled Morrison's
kindred spirit throughout the band's two hour plus set like a hired
mercenary. His blood curdling yelps and grunts tugged at the Lizard
King's legacy and badass-ness as Krieger and Manzarek countered
musical high fives. They riffed off each other with a delicate interplay
that interwove the blues, Indian raga and jazz into a sonic mix
that peaked and slid itself into the subconscious.
The rhythm section from Robby Krieger's solo band
of Angelo Barbera on bass and Ty Dennis on skins put the punch into
the songs that lacked original drummer John Densmore's finesse but
kept his primal thunder.
"This ain't no Foo Fighters show" Ian
Astbury quipped before The Doors 21st Century ripped into When
the Music's Over. The slow, whirling, funeral-esque drone of
keyboardist Ray Manzarek put the crowd into a tightly wound trance
that guitarist Robby Krieger unraveled with a screeching lead that
twisted, weaved and shot its load at the climactic – "We want
the world and we want it NOW!"
Manzarek announced onstage that the band would
be going into the studio to record soon and they did a new one,
Cops Talk, with words by Jim Carroll who wrote Basketball
Diaries.
On Back Door Man the band turned loud, lewd and righteously
funky. Astbury's claim to have "eatin' more pussy than any
man ever seen" was countered by the bands chunky grind that
fused into Five to One as newsreels of sixties riots flickered
onscreen. Manzarek and Astbury rapped at the delights of recreational
drug use, hardcore sex, dissed the Dixie Chicks and then dedicated
the number to Jim Morrison, "Wherever he is".
The band played The Crystal Ship unplugged
with Krieger on acoustic and Manzarek tinkling the ivories like
two aged lounge lizards in a chintzy Vegas dive. On Light My
Fire they played off each other like old friends as the Brotherhood
of Light Show's onscreen blobs of fluorescent purples mutated and
globbed like stoned out amoebas. Krieger borrowed a few lines from
Coltrane's My Favorite Things and they segued into Bob Marley's
Get Up, Stand Up.
"I'm a Doors fan and I know where people
are coming from" Astbury told the crowd before the band finished
with Soul Kitchen.
The
New York Post, 26 April 2003
A DOORS KEEPER
Dan Aquilante
WITHOUT
a doubt, the same morbid curiosity that draws people to car races
to see a colossal smashup was what sold out The Doors reunion concert
at the Roseland Ballroom. Playing the part of cult rocker Jim Morrison
was ex-Cult rocker Ian Astbury, backed by Doors organist Ray Manzarek
and axman Robbie Krieger. (Original drummer John Densmore opted
not to participate.) After watching Thursday's performance, when
reality and illusion pounded each other in a steel- cage death match
for two hours, it wasn't clear which won.
Was The Doors show karaoke, or was it rock 'n'
roll? You could argue either way, but, ultimately, it was entertaining.
Still, the sacrilege of waking Jim from the big sleep troubled some
in the male-dominated audience. At one point, Mr. Astbury crouched
low at the lip of the stage and flipped the double-bird in retort
to a heckler's comment; later in the show, another rudester tossed
a container of beer at him, to which the singer said, "It's
all theater."
Astbury may be the bravest performer in music.
He endured the slings and arrows of narrow-minded purists and was
still able to give a terrific concert that brought The Doors back
to life. It isn't that Astbury's vocals are a perfect replica of
Morrison's – the two singers only sound alike because they are baritones.
The magic lies in Astbury's phrasing. During Peace Frog, when Astbury
sang, "Blood in the streets of the town of New Haven,"
his staccato delivery, with each syllable laid out on the beat,
was Jim-like.
While the success of the night rode heavily on
the shoulders of Astbury (who actually looks more like Eddie Vedder
than the Lizard King), the instrumental backup was even more vital.
After 30 years, Manzarek's swirling fun-house organ and Krieger's
fleet fretwork are unbroken. They displayed their best stuff on
an extended version of Light My Fire that put the original three-minute
radio version of the tune to shame.
The Doors have been mythologized and mocked, but
if this show was telling, the time has not yet come for them to
put out the lights.
Set
list: 1. Roadhouse Blues / 2. Break
On Through / 3. When The Music's Over / 4. Love Me Two Times / 5.
Moonlight Drive / Horse Latitudes / 6. Wild Child / 7. Cops Talk
/ 8. Alabama Song / Back Door Man / Five To One / 9. The Crystal
Ship / 10. People Are Strange / 11. Spanish Caravan / 12. Maggie
M'Gill / 13. L.A. Woman / 14. Light My Fire / Encore:
15. Riders On The Storm / 16. Peace Frog / 2nd
Encore: 17. Soul Kitchen.
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