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Dec 22, 2021 Web Exclusive By Austin Saalman

The Doors’ sixth and final studio album with frontman Jim Morrison (excluding the posthumously-released An American Prayer), 1971’s L.A. Woman saw the group headed in a fresh direction, delving deeper into the blues than they had on previous releases, which worked well for them. Despite such creative success, the notorious Los Angeles foursome, who less than five years prior had emerged on the scene to deliver an ominous soundtrack to the escalating Vietnam conflict and increasingly pessimistic counterculture, had since begun melting down from within. With Morrison descending deeper into drug and alcohol dependency, L.A. Woman was recorded in The Doors’ hardscrabble studio, and, surprisingly, found them taking a more consistent, even disciplined approach. As compared to the somewhat jumbled Morrison Hotel, released the previous year. L.A. Woman feels tighter, more composed, and evinces superior production value, with Morrison utilizing his soulful vocals as he rarely had before, and the group sounding as unified as they had in ’67.

L.A. Woman peaked at number nine on the Billboard 200 chart, and critical reception was warm enough, albeit mutedly so. Its heavy air of deep desert darkness, dragged through each song like tracks of blood through Mojave sand, seems to embody the phantom underbelly of L.A.’s psychedelic scene. Here, Morrison’s lyrics—relatively plain-spoken, and, for the most part, lacking much of the infamous pretension of his earlier writings—successfully retain their cynical venom, while also revealing a fresh sense of dark humor. Opening track “The Changeling” finds the group embracing a raw funk sound, Morrison singing, “I had money, and I had none/But I never been so broke that I couldn’t leave town”—this, among other lyrics, as noted by critics, seems to anticipate Morrison’s departure for Paris, which he would make shortly before the album’s release.

The subsequent “Love Her Madly,” written by guitarist Robbie Krieger, unravels into an irresistibly tight psychedelic jam, while gruff blues rocker “Been Down So Long,” despite dismissal from critics, is sung and performed with enough defiant conviction to render it a satisfyingly energetic listen. The underrated “Cars Hiss By My Window,” on which the group explores a wholly bluesy sound, is an atmospherically mellow standout, and the album’s title track is a rock epic for the ages, with Morrison famously declaring himself “Mr. Mojo Risin’”—an anagram of his own name—perhaps signifying his evolution from Lizard King into something far more metaphysical. “Crawling King Snake,” the album’s obligatory blues cover, possesses such undeniable earnestness that it is hard not to love, with Krieger’s guitar work—some of his finest—serving as its centerpiece. However, L.A. Woman’s key offerings, aside from its title track, are easily “Hyacinth House,” “The WASP (Texas Radio and The Big Beat),” and the immortal closer “Riders on the Storm.” An entirely solid cut, the golden, slightly paranoid “Hyacinth House” is especially noteworthy, seeing Morrison at his most honest, declaring, “I need a brand new friend who doesn’t trouble me/I need someone yeah, who doesn’t need me.”

Rhino’s L.A. Woman (50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition) features the original album, remastered by former Doors engineer Bruce Botnick, and includes a wealth of supplementary material, providing an intriguing window into the group’s creative process during Morrison’s final days. The listener is treated to an intimate view of the album’s evolution through 2+ hours worth of session outtakes, including an early demo of “Hyacinth House,” which offers an alternate interpretation of the key track, Morrison’s bare confessions feeling all the more resonant. These recordings also include some wonderful banter, casting the group—Morrison especially—in a stirringly human light. It is a hell of an experience, especially for longtime fans of the band and album. Jim Morrison, while more overtly flawed than many, was one of rock’s great frontmen and, when he wanted to be, a remarkable writer. Also celebrating an anniversary is Oliver Stone’s controversial biopic The Doors, which turned 30 this year. The film may make a worthy unofficial companion piece to L.A. Woman (50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition), complementing the experience with Stone’s delirious, often nightmarish vision and Val Kilmer’s masterful performance as rock’s dark prince.

L.A. Woman is an unrivaled ’70s classic, a relic of vintage L.A., and an appropriate farewell letter from Morrison, who was dead within less than three months of its release. While not the masterpiece that is Strange Days or the vibrating bag of splendor that is Waiting for the Sun, L.A. Woman is still a great Doors album, into which this 50th anniversary deluxe edition has breathed fresh life. Cynical, sexual, brooding, and literate, listeners old and new may at last experience a new side of Jim Morrison and The Doors, whose iconic rock and roll legacy remains indelible within the fabric of American popular culture. (www.thedoors.com)

Author rating: 8/10