The city of lights; the year is 1970 and every doper and dive bar regular is standing in New Orleans on a corner outside The Warehouse wondering what the hell just happened. Jim Morrison gave his final performance and broke down on stage for the last time ever. This was to be the Doors’ last. It was the end to an era—there will never be another Morrison, ever. His antics finally got the best of him, and Chief Mojo Rising took his final bow and disappeared off to Paris forever.
The eerie tinge of Ray Manzarek’s organ played Jim’s swan song as the Lizard King took a one-way trip on a train into oblivion. Having a hard time keeping up? Pick up a copy of the Doors’ last studio album, L.A. Woman, and start taking notes. As the album plays, there is a gentle rain that falls, cools the soul and opens the mind to that final trip. This is the last curtain for the Doors and Jim is coming on stage to bring the story back to life. Morrison steps to the microphone, his mouth agape, and he tells the story of the final curtain for the Doors, L.A. Woman:
“When it comes down to the treats on the album, ‘Been Down So Long’ speaks in truths. Bobby [Kreger] really worked the guitar into that tune. There was such a bluesy feeling to it all; the vibe was forcing the soulful VOX spewing over the waves. I wanted to be comfortable while recording this record. I think it’s called ‘keeping it real’ these days.
“Conceptually, the album wasn’t going to be as bluesy, but since we lost our producer it was time to revert back to the basics and get the ball rolling on something good. We had a couple of winners on the album, ‘Love Her Madly’ and ‘L.A. Woman’ were both incredibly rock ‘n’ roll. There was no limit to our talent and my drinking. Comparatively, I could do one more than the other and there was no guessing as to which.
“When the ferryman comes, remember to have your gold to pay your way across the River Styx. I took time from the Doors to expand my spoken word library. It was essentially just a birthday gift to myself to die softly in a leather chair blaring slowly into a microphone. My life was set aside from falling apart on stage; I was ready to break from the Doors and open some windows in Paris.
“Sleep restful, weary soul because the trip will be over before you know it and every baby’s laugh, every rooster call will seem as though it is some unforgotten past that only your children’s children would remember. The soft pitter-patter of toddler’s feet on the gentle sand of time will echo as a ringing bell on the shores of a distant future and before you know it, life will end. Come with me and I can take you through a journey that may seem to never end but may indeed spell out the things to come.”
L.A. Woman wasn’t to be a swan song for the Doors. But shortly after the album was released, Jim Morrison took a sabbatical in Paris, never to return. He paid his dues and, at a young age, was extinguished from existence forever. The album went on to fuel other soundtracks to which “Love Her Madly” made Forrest Gump and the ever-melodic “The End” from their self-titled album was planted firmly on Apocalypse Now. The Doors continue to withstand the test of time and their Woman bookended a successful yet all too short career for all members.
