‘L.A. Woman’ – The Doors
Before Jim Morrison moved to Paris to take some time away from music, he recorded L.A. Woman with his bandmates, a project which became The Doors‘ final album with their iconic, enigmatic frontman. Morrison passed away a few months after the record’s release, and their last effort together remains one of their greatest, capturing America’s transition into a new decade where hippie culture was waning, as was Morrison’s sexually-charged rockstar persona.
The lyrics that form L.A. Woman encapsulate Morrison’s love affair with America, simultaneously depicting the dirtiness and dangers found in places like Los Angeles and his appreciation for the opportunities it has given him. He sums up his feelings for Los Angeles on the titular track, singing: “Hills are filled with fire/ If they say I never loved you/ You know they are a liar”. The song blends images of destruction and death with sensual imagery that conveys the city’s impossible allure, drawing Morrison into its core despite the horrors that lurk around every corner, such as “motel money murder-madness”. The eponymous track is the perfect centrepiece for the album, a fast-paced cruiser that bridges the record’s themes of loss and the search for freedom.
L.A. Woman opens with ‘The Changeling’, a funky blues number that sees Morrison deliver his lines with a rough growl, commenting on his evolution as a rockstar, constantly changing yet remaining everpresent. At this time, the frontman was no longer the sex symbol he was known as at the beginning of his career, something he also explores on ‘Hyacinth House’, singing: “Why did you throw the Jack of Hearts away?” The latter track is a hazy cut featuring layered vocals illuminating the richness of Morrison’s voice, building to staccato rhythms as he emphasises his desire for a new path in life.
Morrison’s desire for freedom perpetuates nearly every song, whether that be from authority or his spot in the limelight. On ‘The WASP (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)’, Morrison sings of thresholds, expressing a desire to escape where “there are no stars”. Jerry Scheff’s bass guitar pounds alongside John Densmore’s drums; an air of mystery pervades as Morrison continues to rhapsodise about the death of God with a Nietzschian sensibility. This track also gifts us one of Morrison’s most poetically profound lyrics, as he sings: “I’ll tell you this, no eternal reward will forgive us now/ For wasting the dawn”.
Elsewhere, we are given refined reflections on romantic love, such as on the catchy Robbie Krieger-penned ‘Love Her Madly’, which uses an upbeat rhythm to contrast the rather depressing lyrics about love turning sour. Morrison continues this theme in the astounding ‘Cars Hiss By My Window’, an almost-sleazy-sounding cut featuring a rich lyrical depiction of a room where Morrison and his lover are sitting, their relationship crumbling. He ends the incredible number with an impersonation of a harmonica, morphing his voice into the soundscape to suggest that his hope is fading, melting away with the instruments.
Other highlights include the impassioned ‘Been Down So Long’, a moody display of Morrison’s gravelly tones, demanding we hear his cries for freedom. Then there’s ‘L’America’, an underrated gem from The Doors’ discography, which trembles with a murderous quality akin to the lyrics of the end track, ‘Riders on the Storm’. Tension builds in a walking bassline, accompanied by a militaristic drum beat that builds with an unnerving quality. The biting guitars bring the whole track together before everything speeds up, wrapping the listener in a blanket of chaos akin to Morrison’s observations of America.
The record ends with one of the band’s most stunning works: ‘Riders on the Storm’. Coming in at seven minutes, the track paints the picture of a serial-killing hitchhiker, tying up the album’s themes by capturing the darkness of America, backed by the noise of rain and thunder. ‘Riders on the Storm’ is a fizzling masterwork that feels like the end of something, fitting, as it became the final song Morrison ever recorded with his band. It feels like the musical embodiment of the end of the ’60s, with the decade’s optimism gently dissipating through Manzarek’s keys, echoing the atmosphere of a Los Angeles rocked by the Manson murders just two years before.
L.A. Woman is one of the band’s most significant achievements, alongside their near-flawless self-titled debut. From the electrically-charged ‘Been Down so Long’ to the simmering ‘Riders on the Storm’, there is no moment on the record where The Doors falter.