Roseland, New York, New York
Morrison cartel
The Doors (well, 2) return as their own tribute band
Question: When is a Doors concert not a Doors concert?
Answer: When the group's original singer has been dead for more than 30 years
and is replaced by a hair-metal refugee with a flair for karaoke (Ian Astbury).
Not to mention when the band's first drummer isn't asked to play with them and
winds up suing his former friends for millions, a move later mimicked by the
late singer's estate.
Such were the juicy stories that loomed over the first New York concert in
three decades to be advertised under the Doors' banner.
Certainly, the musicians who led this sold-out show at Roseland — keyboardist
Ray Manzarek and guitarist Robbie Krieger — contributed immeasurably to what
has made this band endure. And no fan was tricked into buying a ticket with
promises of a supernatural channeling of legendary frontman Jim Morrison.
People knew what they were getting and seemed to heartily enjoy what they
saw and heard, which included more than two hours of Doors' hits.
But to this critic, the proceedings felt like history's first example of a major
group reducing itself to its own tribute band.
To invert a famous Rolling Stone headline about Morrison's myth: This show was
cold. It was sexless. It was dead.
The necrophilic worship began before a single note was played. A vintage
image of Morrison appeared on a video backdrop. Then, singer Astbury (late of
The Cult) slunk out in his best Lizard King shades and leather to offer a Rich
Little-style impersonation of Lord Jim on Roadhouse Blues.
Astbury definitely had Morrison's bellow (if not his beauty), and the musicians
(aided by a guest drummer and bassist) worked hard to recreate every classic
chord and lick.
But even the most rigid nostalgia shows need some current intensity. Here, if
you closed your eyes, you wouldn't think you were hearing the original Doors.
You'd think you were hearing some morbidly studious knock-off act, like Soft
Parade.
The group didn't confine their historic worship to the music. They alluded to
old court cases as well (including Morrison's public nudity charge). While
Astbury made sure everyone understood that he's "not Jim Morrison," he did
take time out to scream "Jim lives!" while he did his nearest impression.
Small wonder this night ended up feeling so creepy, cynical, and ultimately as
satisfying as hearing Band Of Gypsies without the guy who played guitar.
New York Daily News
“THE DOORS - 21ST CENTURY” careened onto the stage at Roseland shortly before
9PM, and for over two hours indulged the sold-out crowd in rubbernecking at the
mangled hulk of a gleaming Thunderbird convertible horribly bent into a fiery
wreck.
It’s so very, very wrong in its execution -- but it plays astonishingly well to
an audience of overgrown, beer-swilling Frat-boys gone to seed and SUV-driving
Soccer-Moms with saddlebags, who pine away for the romance of an imagined
rogue-lover…
The incessant “Broadway-ization” of bands supplanting original members – and in
this case: one deceased (Morrison) and one in litigation (Densmore) – with shiny
new folks who take turns sharing the spotlight like the swing cast of a well-worn
musical -- has reached it’s pinnacle in “THE DOORS – 21ST CENTURY.”
Cloaked in the guise of the once-mysterious and underrated Ian Astbury, this
“21ST CENTURY” sell-out to Clear Channel reeks like egg salad, as the now-sober
Cult front-man finally gives in to the oft-heard Morrison comparison, trivializing,
and hypocritically singing Roadhouse Blues and Alabama Song, among
others. In fact, Ian Astbury singing “Mr. MoJo Rising!” comes across with the
same depth and resonance of his singing “I Wish I Was An Oscar Meyer Weiner!”
Leather-clad and looking every inch the son of the legendary singer he apes --
Astbury beguiled the audience with his high energy and warm vocals -- but it is
not enough to salvage the night’s performance, which sags with every single word
that keyboardist Ray Manzarek utters between songs. Manzarek, as he has been for
years since Jim Morrison’s demise, remains deadly boring in his history lessons
and time --wasting between-song peace-rants and monologues.
Far beyond the brave audacity of staging this musical interpretation of a celebrated,
once-exciting group -- is the unbelievable travesty of introducing new material into
the broad roster of “Greatest Hits.” Whether the Saturn-driving Yuppies who formed
the majority of the audience will harken towards the call of a new disc remains to
be seen. What lingers, is the memory and image of a legendary staple of AOR radio,
now turned into a touring musical revue unworthy of the $70 to $100 ticket
prices.
The Doors of perception have been ethnically cleansed and are as see-through as an
empty glass on a bar at The Hard Rock Café…
Avoid at all costs. Buy The Doors box set, and The Cult’s Love, Electric and Sonic
Temple to really enjoy some cool rock and roll. If you already own those -- and you
are still curious -- take SEVENTY bucks out of your pocket and throw it in the
street, and then go back listen to your CDs, and maybe watch the Val Kilmer flick.
You’ll have a better time.
Mick Stingley (KNAC.COM)
Setlist
Roadhouse Blues
Break On Through
Love Me Two Times
Moonlight Drive
Wild Child
Cops Talk
Alabama Song
Five To One
The Crystal Ship
People Are Strange
Spanish Caravan
Maggie M'Gill
LA Woman
Light My Fire
Encore 1:
Riders On The Storm
Peace Frog
Soul Kitchen