“Some people are idiot savants. But the idea of the Doors recording there doing L.A. Woman allowed him and them to fully employ all those things that he knew he could do and of course of them recording. All the equipment that he had taken apart and modified was in the same room with the Doors downstairs and now he’s gonna configure the room to work with the equipment that he built. So he stepped into his own element in the process of them recording there, Vince, I think, in that current was able to do his master work expression as it were. And I think the sound of L.A. Woman reflects Vince’s contribution.”
“In the Doors you also had a jazz drummer, a jazz keyboardist and a jazz guitarist all playing the blues with a real great poet and actor fronting it,” suggests songwriter, record producer, and music publisher, Kim Fowley.
“It was theater. Morrison did what Howlin’ Wolf and Lawrence Olivier did all at the same time. He did William Shakespeare and gut bucket together. Jim could sing in pitch, he had the image and the poetry. He understood theater. Manzarek supplied the pulse, and Robby the guitarist is never given the credit what he brought to the table.
“The Doors were not a rock ‘n’ roll band but gave you a rock ‘n’ roll feeling. And the only band that did that was the original King Crimson. ‘Cause they weren’t a rock ‘n’ roll band, either, but when you heard Court of the Crimson King and Pink Floyd in 1967, they were the only bands who had some Wagner with a rock ‘n’ roll attitude,” concluded Fowley, who knew the Doors and introduced them on stage a few times. The band once visited a recording session Fowley produced at the Elektra studio with Gene Vincent.
I’ve always relished and acknowledged the influence and impact Los Angeles had on UCLA graduates Ray Manzarek and Jim Morrison, as well as John Densmore and Robby Krieger, alums of University High School and Pacific Palisades High School who attended Cal State Northridge University and U.C. Santa Barbara respectively. The Doors’ engineer/producer Bruce Botnick went to both Fairfax High and Hollywood High Schools. The Doors catalogue was initially cut for the Elektra Records label. Their office was located on La Cienega Blvd., which in Spanish means “the swamp.”
Morrison was the son of a Navy admiral. Water was always a principal theme in Morrison’s journey and lyrics: “Moonlight Drive,” “Crystal Ship,” “Ship of Fools,” the “River of Sadness” cited in “Peace Frog,” and destination in “Land Ho!” “The End,” mentions “the blue bus” which is Jim’s version of the Egyptian solar boat. I initially thought it was a reference to the blue bus on Pico Blvd. that we rode around the UCLA campus in Westwood.
I interviewed Ray Manzarek about Jim’s pre-occupation with the sea.
“Water, ships, it clicks big time. The water images, that beach down in Venice and that ocean side. And the water always entered into Morrison’s life. And where does his life expire? In the water in the bathtub in Paris from the amniotic fluid of his birth to the bathtub in Paris.”
“My first and most abiding memory of the Doors was seeing them on one of those TV dance party shows that sprang up like mushrooms following the spring rains of the English Invasion,” recalled author and UCLA graduate Kenneth Kubernik.
“It was, I believe, 9th Street West, built around the 'Boss Radio’ brand of L.A.'s reigning Top Forty AM station, KHJ.
“Lip-syncing to 'Break On Through,' their first single from their debut album, it caught me up short, like a quick slant from Namath to Maynard: that back door bossa nova beat, the churning, left-hand keyboard bass continuo (more felt than heard), the insolent baritone command from the lead singer. It felt more like a shiv to the throat than a song, a menacing undertow you could dance to. Tommy James, bless his heart, this wasn't.
“I was young enough (12) to be both bewitched and bewildered by their impertinence; there was a palpable interiority to their presence, as if they were privileging us squealy teenyboppers with their pastiche of jazz and blues, Blake and Huxley. They didn't crave our approval; rather, they took a road never traveled and dared us to hitch a ride. 'Light My Fire' was riding shotgun, waiting its turn to transform the impending summer of '67 with its baroque pageantry.
"I never totally succumbed to the band's cultish allure; Morrison's personal mishegas seemed to sap them of any real creative momentum. Much of their music remains knotted to a very particular time and (psychic) space that occludes its continuing vitality (why, for instance, did Ray persist with that rinky-dink Gibson organ).
“There were moments: L.A. Woman was a great leap forward, the production doing justice to a raft of great songs that showcased the group's strengths. And then the sun, suddenly, heartlessly, goes dark. But not before offering a tantalizing glimpse of what lay magically, mystically, on the other side."
In summer 2021 I also spoke with two Doors’ scholars, Dr. James Cushing, a poet and longtime deejay on KEBF-FM, and another UCLA graduate, writer/editor Daniel Weizmann about L.A. Woman.
Dr. James Cushing: L.A. Woman ties in a dead-heat with The Doors as the group’s finest album. I thought so in 1971 and I think so today. In both cases, this listener was presented with something new. In 1967, the first album showed Morrison’s fully developed poetic sensibility, embodied in a uniquely jazz-derived sound, based on the organ-guitar-drums trio beloved of inner city taverns across the nation. Jimmy Smith meets Antonin Artaud. In 1971, the last album paired Morrison’s poetic sensibility with a tough blues band that relished jazz changes. Remarkably, the band was the same three men, with the addition of Elvis’ bass guitarist, Jerry Scheff. His bass lines somehow reinforce the impact of every other instrument. Both The Doors and L.A. Woman give a sense of having been thoughtfully sequenced so as to give a sense of overall coherence, a beginning-middle-end arc every bit as pleasing as Sgt. Pepper, yet no one ever called either one a ‘concept album.’ They do deep and powerful work on the listeners’ mind, and (to these ears) sound just as compelling on CD as on vinyl.”
Daniel Weizmann: Morrison has his detractors, people who say he's writing above his boxing weight, but I think they're mostly losers in sweaty leisurewear, secretly jealous of his absurdly indisputable sexual charisma. Have you ever heard a young single woman diss the writing of Jim Morrison? The men don't know but the you-know-who understand. Speaking of women, I point detractors to the song ‘L.A. Woman,’ Morrison's lyrical masterpiece, a kaleidoscope of jarring noir imagery that posits female as city, city as female, taking the listener on a surreal journey to the heart of the shadow self. The song is a bait-and-switch: At first, the "singer" is on a quest, in search of a single L.A. woman, but once he enters the labyrinth, this enigmatic feminine other becomes all L.A. women and finally all souls lost in the floating neon. It's no small thing that the song manages to feel like a lonesome afternoon driving through our town, caroming through the rolling foothills in the hypnotizing, hazy sunlight. The guy's a film major, and the visual complexity he deploys is unusual for rock, shifting POVs, throwing intimate super-close-ups next to Cinemascope wide shots. The day changes to night (change in an instant!) as afternoon flips to a midnight of LAPD units languishing outside strip clubs, motels where bad deals end in blood, and luck and loss are two sides of a coin in endless mid-flight. But maybe the most moving thing about the song is that line about people saying he never loved her, and how they're all liars. He's right.”
(Harvey Kubernik saw a concert by the Doors in 1968 at the Forum in Inglewood, California and interviewed band members Manzarek, Densmore and Krieger extensively since 1974 for a number of periodicals. He’s produced several recording sessions with Manzarek and produced a MET Theater series where John Densmore appeared.
Kubernik is the author of 20 books, including Leonard Cohen: Everybody Knows, Canyon Of Dreams: The Magic And The Music Of Laurel Canyon and Turn Up The Radio! Rock, Pop and Roll In Los Angeles 1956-1972.
Otherworld Cottage Industries in August 2020 published Harvey’s book, Docs That Rock, Music That Matters. Kubernik’s writings are in several book anthologies, most notably The Rolling Stone Book Of The Beats and Drinking With Bukowski.
Sterling/Barnes and Noble in 2018 published Harvey and Kenneth Kubernik’s The Story Of The Band: From Big Pink To The Last Waltz. For 2021 the duo penned Jimi Hendrix: Voodoo Child for the publisher.
This century Kubernik wrote the liner note booklets to CD re-releases of Carole King’s Tapestry, Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, Elvis Presley The ’68 Comeback Special, the Ramones’ End of the Century and a vinyl release for National Record Store Day Black Friday November 26, 2021 of the never issued Big Brother and the Holding Company (featuring Janis Joplin) Combination of the Two Live at the Monterey International Pop Festival).
During 2020 Harvey Kubernik served as a Consultant on the 2-part documentary Laurel Canyon: A Place in Time directed by Alison Ellwood).