The ’60s were a time of incurable restlessness, a time when anything could happen, and it usually did. Or at least that’s how those who weren’t around then perceive it now. One band that seemed to define the instability of the era and still remains relevant today is the Doors, and in his book “The Doors: A Lifetime of Listening to Five Mean Years,” rock writer Greil Marcus attempts to analyze some of the band’s most jarring songs and performances through the scope of its gloomy appeal.
From the band’s notorious 1967 performance on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” where the members were asked to change the lyrics of “Light My Fire,” to the fateful night in Miami in 1969 where vocalist Jim Morrison allegedly exposed himself to the crowd, Marcus uses individual songs, live and recorded, to trace the cultural significance of the Doors. In most entries, he offers an in-depth, critical depiction of the songs — how, when performed live, the band cradles or defiles them, how Morrison molds them according to his mood and sobriety.
Marcus, who hails from the San Francisco Bay Area and actually saw the Doors live, writes as though the reader has a full knowledge of the band’s beginnings, shortcomings and accomplishments, jumping right into his analyses without much pretense. This approach develops a nice rapport with the reader, a sort of you-already-know-what-you-need-to-know-so-I-won’t-pander-to-you feeling, but his assumption alienates others, especially of a younger generation.
Perhaps a bit of an explanation, beyond his seeming obsession with writer/director Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic on the band, wouldn’t have hurt.
Speaking of the Stone movie, simply titled “The Doors,” Marcus relies on that as a starting point far more than he should. Yes, it’s a relevant resource. Yes, it makes sense to mention it because it affects how more recent generations view the Doors. But the film has received scrutiny in its own right, and unceasingly referring to it seems superfluous and almost denies Marcus some of the credibility he deserves.
One shining moment of the book is the author’s narrative of the development of “Roadhouse Blues.” The tale brims with anticipation: If you couldn’t be in that studio while Morrison and company figured out the song, then hearing its emergence in intimate, excoriating detail is the next best thing. To know the song, to be familiar with its nuances, brings an even greater sense of appreciation to this chapter, and when it ends with the tune’s live performance, where Morrison crafts his own incomprehensible locution, the impatient reader is finally content.
The book is the perfect length, offering just enough to keep the reader engaged but not so much that it becomes boring. In fact, with its detailed performances and its slight dip into what made the band an epic contribution to rock ’n’ roll history, “The Doors” will leave the reader with a hunger for more information. More music. More Morrison.
Rating: W W W 1/2
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