The untimely 1971 death of Jim Morrison created a legend of a rock ‘n’ roll poet maudit at the expense of the
reality: that he was only one part, albeit an important one, in The Doors, a
band containing some of the most talented musicians in the history of rock ‘n’
roll.
The appearance of one of those musicians, Robby Krieger, at BergenPAC in my hometown, Englewood, NJ, confirmed that many times over. His eponymous band may have taken on its name as a result of a protracted legal dispute over use of the group’s name with former bandmate John Densmore, but in another sense it was entirely appropriate: It simply recognized the technical wizardry that led Rolling Stone to list him among the 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time. (He is at #76, sandwiched between Willie Nelson and Joni Mitchell.)
The appearance of one of those musicians, Robby Krieger, at BergenPAC in my hometown, Englewood, NJ, confirmed that many times over. His eponymous band may have taken on its name as a result of a protracted legal dispute over use of the group’s name with former bandmate John Densmore, but in another sense it was entirely appropriate: It simply recognized the technical wizardry that led Rolling Stone to list him among the 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time. (He is at #76, sandwiched between Willie Nelson and Joni Mitchell.)
For a long time, I did not have even an adequate
idea of Krieger’s skill on his instrument. But his sizzling solo on Hall and
Oates’ “Kiss on My List,” in this marvelous YouTube clip from Live From Daryl’s House, opened my eyes, so that, when a close
relative bought me a ticket to the BergenPAC show as a birthday gift, I was
looking forward to it. I was not disappointed.
The show was billed as “Fifty Years of Doors Music,”
and this was no case of false advertising. Though Krieger imported some licks
from The Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby” and even Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “My
Favorite Things,” the focus was squarely on the music he and Morrison,
Densmore, and the late keyboardist Ray Manzarek created years ago. Soft-spoken,
he offered very short introductions to some of the songs, noting which were
favorites of his friends (Morrison’s, “Maggie McGill”; Manzarek’s, the
atmospheric “Riders on The Storm”).
(Krieger also introduced a song he said was
appropriate for Donald Trump, “L.A. Woman.” Actually, a few lyrics from other
Morrison songs were also relevant for this new political era: “You’ll get
yours, I’ll get mine,” “We want the world and we want it now,” and “What have
they done to the Earth?”)
Hinting at the content to come, Krieger opened with two
songs from the band’s first album, which was released in January 1967: “Break
on Through” and “Alabama Song (Whisky Song)”. Then, one after another in the
two-hour, intermission-free set, the songs flowed, staples of free-form, top
40, and now classic rock formats: “People Are Strange,” the bluesy “Back Door
Man,” “Five to One,” “Moonlight Drive/Horse Latitudes,” “Wild Child,” and “20th
Century Fox.”
Those who witnessed The Doors in concert back when
they burst on the rock scene would still have
found one element missing from the
show: danger. Morrison, the Lizard King, was gone. His duties as lead vocalist
were taken over by Krieger’s son Waylon. Even with the latter donning dark
sunglasses, the performance came off less like the kind of Dionysian
performance art that called down the law on Morrison (and, at times, even
unnerved his bandmates) than like a father and son playing catch. It didn’t
help that, for all his outsized stage gestures, Waylon's voice couldn’t always carry
over the loud instrumentation.
As for the rest of the band: While bassist Phil Chen
and drummer Ty Dennis were technically proficient, the Doors’ catalogue still
depends on the interplay between the guitar and keyboard. Krieger clearly
missed Manzarek, and prior to this gig he had chiefly used two musicians as
replacements, Nathan Wilmarth (primarily on the West Coast) and Ed Roth (on the
East). For this third and last area engagement, however, Steve Molitz of the
band Particle filled in admirably.
The audience wasn’t satisfied with merely the first
encore, “Soul Kitchen," because Krieger saved the biggest song for last, one
that, in effect, closed the circle that began with the opening songs. This
time, it was the breakthrough hit from The Doors’ first album, “Light My Fire.”
Characteristically self-effacing, Krieger did not mention that he had written the band’s biggest song—and its greatest assurance of musical immortality for the 71-year-old guitar master and his three friends a half century ago.
Characteristically self-effacing, Krieger did not mention that he had written the band’s biggest song—and its greatest assurance of musical immortality for the 71-year-old guitar master and his three friends a half century ago.
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