As I shifted in my chair at the Curtis Park 24th Street Theatre, I thought about when I was 13, back in New York. I’d just put my first order in with Columbia House Records: The Doors, Roadhouse Blues. Now, some 30 years later, I was waiting for the last few stragglers to be seated for an evening performance with slide virtuoso Roy Rogers and Ray Manzarek, known most widely for co-founding and being the keyboardist/bassist for the Doors.

I was curious beyond words to hear what Doors stories Manzarek has. After so many books, movies and years have passed, I couldn’t imagine what there was left to tell. Even more so, I was excited to finally hear the new material he and Rogers are now producing for their upcoming album, Translucent Blues, to be released in the earlier part of next year.

Opening the show was Electropoetic Coffee, the duo of award-winning guitarist Ross Hammond and poet Lawrence Dinkins, Jr., a.k.a. NSAA (pronounced En-Sah-Ah).

The pair of young men covered topics from national disasters to politics and the economy with a theatrically polished Sydney Poitier style. The delivery of their material was exacting, gritty and intense. With their free-form metaphoric approach and Hammond’s ethereal loops and echos, Electropoetic Coffee should get out of the Java Houses and over to Off-Broadway where they ultimately belong.

It had started raining by the time the house lights went down again, which only added to the intimacy of the room’s ambiance. So, on the evening of a full moon, one of the creators of my favorite Doors song, “Riders On The Storm,” would be taking the stage to the sound of rain.

After brief greetings to the audience, Rogers picked up his guitar and Manzarek took a seat behind his keyboard. There was no hesitation about getting straight to it, and they launched the perfect song to kick things off, “Presidential Boogie.”

Manzarek then conjured up an impromptu “Sacramento Blues,” singing lyrics he most likely made up as he went. It made for a great ice-breaker with the audience as he took a poke at Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and sang about budget woes.

While Rogers changed guitars, opting for his double-necked monster, Manzarek continued with a beautifully light, jazzy piece he dedicated to Gil Evans, who worked closely with Miles Davis at one time.

The mood was light, and the music was crisp and full of purpose. Even though I’ve seen him a few times, Rogers’ speed and style left my mouth hanging open. He worked one end of the guitar while notes he’d just played sustained themselves forever. He successfully filled pockets between notes, creating floating transitions where, only seconds earlier, there was nothing but piano. It was almost as if there were three or four musicians instead of two.

The room maintained a hypnotic silence until Manzarek snapped everybody out of it by suddenly injecting a riff from “Light My Fire.”

“Well, I know you must have some questions,” he said. “I think I see a microphone over there so, let’s go.”

Many of the questions were about typical things such as how he started The Doors and what his favorite moments were. Then, the mood took a slight turn when a woman stood up from her seat in the middle of the front section and shouted “More music, less verbage!” to which everyone immediately started murmuring…“Bourbon? Bourbon?”

It then turned into a joke the two men made on stage about them playing music for bourbon. While the audience told the woman to sit down and shut up, a young girl approached the microphone and nervously said hello to Manzarek.

“You don’t know how incredible it is for me to be standing here talking to you,” she said. “Your music… you changed my whole life.”

Manzarek thanked her and waved for the next question, but the girl had something in her hands.

“I didn’t have anything to bring, so I brought my shoe…” Her voice cracked and she started to cry a little. “I know I’ll never have a chance to tell you how much this night means to me and how meeting you is something I know… is just a once-in-a-lifetime… so I have my shoe. It’s a Chuck Converse Doors edition shoe. I wondered if you’d sign it for me?” She shook, struggling to speak through the tears and her nerves, and courageously held up the shoe.

At this point, half the audience is trying to inconspicuously wipe their teary eyes.

Manzarek quickly smiled, waving his hand. “No, but thank you, I really… I really can’t.” Then he paused, “Do you even have a pen?”

“Please… please, no… I don’t have a pen…” She looked at him, and then she turned to the audience.

It was now or never. I reached down into my camera bag where I always have an extra Sharpie. Grabbing the pen, I ran across the front of house and handed it to her.

Turning to Manzarek, I said, quite loudly, “Sign the shoe!” And, as echoes of “Sign it, Sign it… began to stir the room, one of the most uber-legendary Rock-N-Roll artists in the country bent down at the edge of the stage, reached out to young Kayla Platsis and signed her shoe. The crowd roared to its feet. Manzarek took a bow.

The next question was about the accuracy of the Oliver Stone movie, The Doors. (I had read that Stone and Manzarek clashed during the making of this film, so I was glad someone had brought it up. I wanted to hear his side of the story.)

Manzarek immediately preempted his answer with a disclaimer, stating that he and Stone do not get along to this day, and wanted to make it clear that the movie is not an accurate reflection of The Doors or of Jim Morrison. He talked about how Stone, fueled by cocaine and tequila binges, ultimately created a movie more about how, quite possibly, Stone might like to imagine himself running around day after day in leather pants, rather than tell a factual story about The Doors.

Manzarek took a minute to explain how, in the early days, they couldn’t even get a paid gig. That life, early on, was slow and quiet. He and Morrison would walk along Venice Beach discussing philosophy, wondering, “Why we were here to begin with. What did it all mean?”

Manzarek continued, “Jim had a very serious, sober, side. The shaman, the poet, the philosophic man he was, was nowhere to be found in that movie.”

Instead, he said, there was a lot of money spent by Stone to create “a cool story that people could relate to” with an actor who looked as close to Morrison as possible. That there was more drive to create a drug-filled fantasy film about things that didn’t ever happen and to portray other things as he saw fit, as long as it made money.

Manzarek recommended that those interested in accuracy should consider looking at Tom DiCillo’s When You Are Strange. Narrated by Johnny Depp, for whom Manzarek had nothing but compliments, the film includes commentary from Morrison’s sister and father.

Manzarek closed the Q-and-A session with his rendition of “Crystal Ship.”

It was an eerie feeling to hear the piece, and Rogers added to the goosebump effect by leaving the stage during the song. As Manzarek sat playing under the blue stage lights, I almost expected Morrison’s voice to come floating out of the air to accompany his friend.

With Rogers returning to the stage, it was time for some grit and gravy – time to get to the business of serious, down-home blues. The pair ripped into some Hookeresque material, and then some more traditional blues that showcased Rogers’ phenomenal handwork as he danced across the guitar, making it scream and wail.

Rogers changed guitars a third time to a mini electric Les Paul for this part of the set. There is a reason why Roy Rogers is on the short list of true slide guitar maestros. He is among the elite in his craft, and it’s a privilege to see him perform.

The tempo eventually started to come to a slower pace, and the twangin’ grew to a soft murmur as Manzarek took on an almost classical approach to a new version of “Riders on the Storm.”

Rogers, back on the double neck, added feedback sounds and his own touch to the version. Again, I had to keep reminding myself that there were only the two of them up there.

Roy and Ray were fantastic hosts to an adoring crowd that stomped the floor for an encore and was rewarded with one more, a healthy serving of the title cut of their musical journey together, “Transcendental Blues.” 

Source: Sacramento Press

In case you were wondering: Ray Manzarek is not the Ray Manzarek you saw played by Kyle MacLachlan in Oliver Stone's "The Doors."

"Totally over the top." "A gross exaggeration." "All total fiction."

Those are among the choicer phrases the keyboard man has for the 1991 film—now as far removed from us in time (nearly 20 years) as the film was from Jim Morrison's final year on Earth (1971).

That bit of math causes Manzarek, 71, to take pause and offer a "whoa" or two as time's passage asserts itself again.

The co-founder of one of America's seminal rock bands is lately a part of the Manzarek-Rogers Band, coming to Bloomington's Castle Theatre for a Saturday night stand.

Rogers is none other than Roy Rogers. But not the late Roy Rogers, of Dale Evans-and-Trigger legendry.

He's the alive-and-well Roy Rogers, of John Lee Hooker renown, courtesy his membership in Hooker's Coast to Coast Band and performances on albums like the Grammy-winning "The Healer."

Manzarek, we know already: He's the McCartney to Jim Morrison's Lennon. Or, more befitting his beat generation love, the Kerouac to Morrison's Cassady.

Or maybe none of the above.

But the fact remains: He's one-half of the pair that founded the band whose impact has barely diminished a note over the 45 years since.

It happened on California's Venice Beach on a hot summer's day in 1965, where Ray and Jim crossed paths and forged an alliance.

How did the current duo cross paths?

"We have a mutual agent, simple as that," he says. "I've always known that Roy Rogers was a great slide guitar player, and our agent said, ‘Why don't you two guys get together and try playing some blues or whatever you want?'"

They did, and the result was, as Manzarek says, "solid."

Well, he enunciates it more like "SOL-iddd," carefully emphasizing every syllable of every word after learning the reporter isn't taping the interview.

"Each … individual … is … SOL-iddd."

And: "SOL-iddd: that means, yes, it was a good idea."

This was three solid years ago, and the union has remained intact, largely as a regional phenomenon of the Northern California area where both men reside.

It has evolved from a keyboard-and-guitar duo to a full-blown blues band with a brand new CD dubbed "Translucent Blues."

"Which is what you guys are going to hear," Manzarek notes.

He adds that the Castle date is, the FIRST show on the band's FIRST-EVER sojourn outside the San Francisco Bay/Northern California area.

Manzarek's West Coast history sometimes obscures the fact that he's an Illinois boy, born and bred in Chicago before lighting his fire at UCLA's film school in the mid-'60s.

He's certain the Doors never got farther south than Chicago during the band's relatively brief heyday (1966-71), so the Castle show will be Manzarek's first-ever downstate performance.

Just as Morrison's beat-worthy poetry fired the band then, poetry continues to fire Manzarek's music today, albeit with a new set of lyricists.

They range from the late Warren Zevon (who sent Manzarek a stanza shortly before his death) to original beat poet Michael McClure to "Basketball Diaries" author Jim Carroll (who died a year ago this fall).

Manzarek never tries to curtail the conversation away from his Doors history, learning long ago, he says, that "every interview will be a Doors interview."

And every concert will be something akin to that. Hence, we'll hear, he promises, creative Manzarek-Rogers Band re-interpretations of "Riders on the Storm," "Light My Fire" and all the others.

He's written his own story, 1998's "Light My Fire: My Life with the Doors," to correct the excesses of the Stone movie.

Though failing to discern himself in Kyle MacLachlan's performance, Manzarek calls him "a very nice guy and a good actor," and bears no grudge.

Given his casting druthers, though, he says he would have cast "the guy from ‘Full Metal Jacket,' what's-his-name…?"

"Matthew Modine?"

"That's it, Matthew Modine: tall, and with the round glasses, he looks about like what I did then."

A favorite anecdote of Manzarek involves director Stone asking him who should play him in the movie.

"I said, ‘The guy who played Iceman in ‘Top Gun'."

Meaning, of course, Val Kilmer, who, of course, Stone wound up casting as … the Lizard King.

If the movie is ever remade, Manzarek says the ideal actor to play him will be one "with an inner strength … and an inner calm … but with a FER-ocious intensity."

You mean, as in solid?

"Yeah: SOL-idd. Real SOL-idd." 

Source: Bloomington Pantagraph

The Doors are making headlines again, fresh off the release of their new documentary When You’re Strange.

Surviving members Robby Krieger and John Densmore talked recently with The Brief to discuss their history with the group. In the interview, they opened up about their first encounter with front man Jim Morrison.

“It was Ray [Manzarek, keyboardist] who introduced us to Jim and we didn’t know what to think,” said Densmore, the Doors’ original drummer.

“Ray said he had never sung before and he was extremely shy, so I thought, ‘He’s not going to be the next Mick Jagger.’ But he turned out to be the only Jim Morrison. He was perfect as a frontman. You know, back then, the words ‘rock star’ weren’t in our vocabulary, it wasn’t even an energy drink.”

Guitarist Robby Krieger adds: “Jim didn’t seem that different when I first met him. He seemed like a normal kind of guy, a very good looking guy, but just normal. It wasn’t until we started rehearsing that I had an idea of how crazy he was.”

“The first time we realized was when we all went out. We all took things, but he just took more. Way more. And one night he took 10 tabs of acid, that’s when we knew he was different and would do everything too much, whether it was booze or drugs. We were always worried about him.”

Johnny Depp narrates When You’re Strange, which was released earlier this year. 

Source: K-HITS 104.3

WHEN school friends John Densmore and Robby Krieger had a potential lead singer introduced to them, they were told he was a film student who was shy and had never sung in his life.

Unsurprisingly, John and Robby were not impressed.

But five minutes after meeting the young Jim Morrison, the two pals—plus meditation buddy Ray Manzarek—realised they were on to something special when he smiled his cover star grin and sang a few lines to show them what he could do.

Just days later, the four LA men were known as The Doors and started down one of the most dangerous and exciting rock'n'roll journeys anyone could imagine.

A whirlwind of classic music, women, drugs, jail time and rivers of booze that ended with a corpse in a Paris bath tub, the story of The Doors is one of the best in rock history.

And it has just been told properly for the first time in an amazing documentary film, narrated by Johnny Depp and directed by Tom DiCillo.

Backed by the three surviving members, When You're Strange tells the whole story of the whole band. It includes all the fun, success and parties, rather than just the dark side of the Morrison story as portrayed in Oliver Stone's hit biopic The Doors from 1991.

Robby and John spoke to The Brief about the two movies and their lives with the band, named after an Aldous Huxley quote about the doors of perception.

John, 65, recalled the moment the band first came together in 1965. He said: "I knew Robby from high school in LA. We had been friends for a while and both of us went to meditation with Ray.

"It was Ray who introduced us to Jim and we didn't know what to think.

"Ray said he had never sung before and he was extremely shy, so I thought, 'He's not going to the next Mick Jagger.'

"But he turned out to be the only Jim Morrison.

"He was perfect as a frontman. You know back then, the words rock star weren't in our vocabulary, it wasn't even an energy drink.

"We didn't want to be rich, we just wanted to make a living. We never set out to be famous, we were interested in stopping the Vietnam War and writing songs about what's like to be human."

Robby, 64, added: "Jim didn't seem that different when I first met him, he seemed like a normal kind of guy, a very good looking guy, but just normal.

"It wasn't until we started rehearsing that I had an idea of how crazy he was.

"The first time we realised was when we all went out. We all took things but he just took more. Way more. And one night he took 10 tabs of acid, that's when we knew he was different and would do everything too much, whether it was booze or drugs.

"We were always worried about him. At one of our early rehearsals, Ray and John and me were all there but Jim never showed up.

"We made some calls and found out he was in jail out in the desert somewhere for fighting with some bikers."

Despite the constant worry that Jim would get them in trouble, the band forged ahead anyway and started writing future classics in the garage.

They were playing the LA club scene, regularly opening for the giants of the day at the Whisky a Go Go bar on the Sunset Strip.

The Doors were hoping for a record contract and were soon one of the most talked-about acts in LA.

Robby said: "That was one of the best times of my life, we played at the Whisky for the whole summer of '67, the best summer ever.

"We'd been trying to get a record contract for about a year when we were spotted by Elektra Records. They were a small label at that time but they were doing well.

"You know, we were all like brothers. Especially before we were famous. For us, it took forever to make it, playing ratty clubs every night and not making enough money.

"Finally it happened and it was all different.

"It was harder and harder to stay together, all kinds of weirdos latched on to Jim to try to get him away from us.

"And once Jim had money, he could do anything he wanted and that was very tough to deal with.

"One record company guy said to us before we got famous, 'If Jim Morrison ever gets any power, look out.'"

After being snapped up by Elektra came the release of Light My Fire, the first Doors song ever written by Robby as a 19-year-old.

He said: "That was my first song for the band and it went right to No. 1. So it had to be all downhill from then.

"I wrote a lot of songs but I don't know what my favourite would be. Touch Me is one of my favourites I guess."

John added: "It was the first time we heard Light My Fire on the radio that we knew we were getting somewhere, that was amazing.

"Then we started going from clubs to small arenas and it all seemed to be getting bigger."

Their debut album, The Doors, was also a smash hit. It was followed by Strange Days, then Waiting For The Sun.

Jim's look, incredible on-stage charisma and the intricate music coming from the three accomplished musicians behind him, meant the band became one of the best known acts in America.

Their singles, albums and tours were all successes but the darkness also started creeping as Jim got more power and money—and poured most of it down his neck.

From 1969 onwards, the band noticed that Jim was becoming more and more unpredictable, and John said it was harder to deal with on stage and the studio, if he ever actually made it there.

He added: "We were very close in the beginning for several years but as Jim's self-destruction increased, we separated from him or we would have had to go down that road with him.

"He knew we were not pleased with him but back then we didn't have substance abuse clinics.

"The last few years were hard, that's when he was drinking too much.

"Before then it was great, even during the last two years we made LA Woman, which was a really good album, one of the highlights of that time.

"He was different and unique. He had a real charisma, other people called it psychosis.

"I certainly wish he hadn't gone down that road."

It was all brought to a head during an infamous Miami show in 1969, when Jim was arrested for indecency, and accused of trying to mimic a sex act on Robby's guitar.

Robby said: "I don't know, some people are just built that way I guess.

"Jim had something in him that he wanted to do everything to the max. The three of us never really did too many drugs because in order to balance him we had to be a little bit more careful.

"Miami was just a crazy night. Jim was late getting there, he was drunk and when he got there and we finally started playing, he kept stopping in the middle of songs and started ranting and raving at the audience. But they seemed to love it.

"Finally he invited people to come on stage and when they came up, the stage started to collapse and that was the end of the show. I don't know what was in his mind.

"While all that stuff was happening, it all seemed normal, we just thought that's what rock'n'roll was.

"At times, it got very annoying but you couldn't say anything to him because the next day he was his normal self and so nice and always very sorry, so you coudn't get mad at him."

The band started to disintegrate in 1970 after recording Morrison Hotel and then LA Woman. Despite making two masterpieces during the turbulent period, Jim got further and further away from his pals.

He eventually quit the band and moved to Paris to become a poet but died in his bath tub of apparent heart failure, although after heavy drinking and drug taking for many years, most people had a good idea of what had precipitated the 27-year-old's death.

Robby said he is still haunted by his ghost today.

"Even when he went to Paris," Robby said, "I was sure he'd come back and we'd get back together. I was in no doubt. LA Woman was a lot of fun and I'm sure he wanted to go on.

"I doubt anybody could have saved Jim, he was just too strong minded and he did what he wanted. He got power.

"I was at my place on the beach in LA when I got the phone call. At first I didn't believe it because there had always been rumours about him all the time but I had a feeling it was true this time. It was terrible, just terrible.

"I miss him all the time. I just remember the good times though. When me and Ray are playing, I sometimes close my eyes and I can see him up there on stage with us. I have a lot of dreams about us all playing together again, and it's very sad to remember he's gone."

Since Jim's death, Ray and Robby have been working together performing, although they recently went through the courts after a legal battle with John over the rights to the band's name.

John himself wrote an book about the band a few years ago and tours playing jazz music.

But the one thing all three agree on is the new movie, which they believe is the best representation of their crazy adventure.

John said: "I'm really pleased with the new movie and I love the way you get to see the Jim we remember when he was young and smiling before he became an alcoholic."

While Robby added: "I love the new movie. Oliver Stone's movie was a one-sided look at the band, while the new film is a balanced look at The Doors and how we really were.

"My problem with the Oliver Stone movie was the script. The music was great though…"

When You're Strange is out now on Universal DVD and Blu-ray. 

Source: DailyRecord.co.uk