Vinyl Vault

They came from L.A. (where else?) riding a wave of hype and controversy, and their eponymous debut album didn’t disappoint on either front. Led by inimitable frontman Jim Morrison, The Doors were undeniably unique. Released in the year of The Summer of Love (1967), that memorable debut provided a different take on flower power, rawer and darker and more sexual. But how does it hold up today? A song-by-song review will tell the tale.

The Doors (1967, Elektra Records)

Side A

  A1. “Break On Through (To The Other Side)”
The other side is exactly what The Doors showed to a lot of unsuspecting rock fans with this incendiary opening single. Ray Manzarek’s keys dominate the sound for much of the way, starting with that memorable bass line and continuing through his jazzy solo. But the whole band works up a lather in the raucous lead-up to the final refrain. Jim Morrison alters between talk-singing and blues shouting of his lyrics about transcending reality. This one packs a wallop with every listen.

  A2. “Soul Kitchen”
Once again you’ve got the quiet/loud dynamic in place, with Manzarek laying down the slinky organ foundation before the full-band fury of the chorus. Robby Krieger gets a chance to show off his chops in a strutting guitar solo, as Morrison implores his lover to allow him to stay near the metaphorical hearth. The imagery here is especially sharp; “Your brain seems bruised with numb surprise” is one of many lines to show that Jim was coming at his lyrics from a poetic bent much deeper than the average pop song.

  A3. “The Crystal Ship”
Things slow down a bit here, as Morrison gives a goodbye kiss to a lover but promises a reunion on the titular barge. The band settles into a groove reminiscent of The Animals, and the piano work in the instrumental break gives this piece a lovely melancholy suitable to the subject matter.

  A4. “Twentieth Century Fox”
Proving they could get poppy while keeping their personality, The Doors nail this character sketch of a mysteriously modern girl. Morrison’s one-liners are choice (“Since her mind left school/It never hesitates”), and Krieger takes center stage with his slithery opening riff and a blistering solo.

  A5. “Alabama Song (Whisky Bar)”
Typically quirky cover material for such a unique band, this Brecht/Weill classic is played well in saloon-y fashion but lacks the forcefulness of the up-tempo blasts on the album.

  A6. “Light My Fire”
Written primarily by Krieger, it’s certainly proved its staying power, but the lyrics are a bit more prosaic than a Morrison offering. And Manzarek’s endless solo certainly is technically proficient, but, to me, turns the song into a bit of a museum piece. Morrison’s powerful baritone gives the song life, however.

Side B

  B1. “Back Door Man”
Taking this Willie Dixon classic and turning it into a psychedelic blues stomp, the band really tears things up here. The groove is unrelenting, and the little girls certainly did understand the erotic charge of Morrison’s belting.

  B2. “I Looked at You”
One of the group’s more pedestrian efforts. It tries desperately to get rolling late, but it lacks a memorable melody or sharp lyrics.

  B3. “End of the Night”
It’s got a vibe straight out of a David Lynch movie, all fever dream and surreal sound. Alas, that only gets it so far.

  B4. “Take It As It Comes”
Manzarek’s fingers get another workout and drummer John Densmore keeps a spicy beat, but there isn’t much special here.

  B5. “The End”
It’s become almost a joke now in pop culture, so it’s important to try and go back to the context of this recording to appreciate the full impact. The sound is elusive, at times resembling the soundtrack for a Spaghetti Western and at times morphing into something more mystical and ephemeral. Krieger and Densmore have a sublime interplay throughout; the guitarist creates the tension and the drummer explodes it. The controversy over the lyrics obscures their all-encompassing brilliance, as an elegy for a failed relationship, as dead-on social commentary (“All the children are insane”), and as improvisatory brilliance. The infamous final section (“The killer awoke…”) sets everything that the older generation knew about their children alight. But this isn’t just nihilism. The sad closing lines (“It hurts to set you free”) reveal that every revolution comes at a price.

The Bottom Line

It wouldn’t be long before the tight balance of anarchy and accessibility would spin out of control on The Doors. But that debut album harnesses all of their intensity and fearlessness into their finest set of songs.

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