The Doors: Live At The Matrix 1967: The Original Masters

With a glossy finish adding to the diaphanous effect, the color filters applied to the images of The Doors inside and outside the package capture the essence of the music inside. In a most practical sense. Reliably sourced from the master tapes this time—in contrast to the 2008 release—Live At The Matrix 1967 : The Original Masters contains thirty- seven tracks from the San Francisco shows and posits the iconic group as a balanced four-man collective prior to the popularity of "Light My Fire" that introduced them to a mass audience and an attendant celebrity that, among other significant factors, erroneously transfigured the quartet into 'Jim Morrison and the Doors.'

Long circulated in bootleg form, parsimoniously released in pieces by the Doors' organization itself, then released in 2008 in what was purported to be best possible form (a premise later proven to be false), the recordings initially captured on venue co-owner Peter Abrams' Akai tape machine are here proffered as a three-CD set (notably not designated 'complete). The presentation isn't the ideal archive format—complete performances in chronological order of their occurrence—but the culls from three-nights nonetheless capture the Doors as their various virtues crystallized into a whole, before being irrevocably shattered by the attendant overabundance of attention wrought by their aforementioned hit single and the aftermath thereof.

Practically speaking too, this collection confirms that early rush of creativity that brought forth the first two Doors albums. In addition, there's "Summer's Almost Gone" from the third, Waiting For The Sun (Elektra, 1968), and even a selection from the final LP L.A. Woman (Elektra, 1970), John Lee Hooker's "Crawling King Snake").

Concise and self-disciplined takes of compositions that make up those initial pair of longplayers—"Unhappy Girl" and "My Eyes Have Seen You"—are prominent in the setlists. Those cuts appear alongside the slight likes of "20th Century Fox'' from the eponymous Doors debut on Elektra Records, a selection on which the quartet conjures more than a little of the noir atmosphere of that album's high points.

The group is in the continuing and disciplined process of working on arrangements and performances of much of their repertoire, this despite the fact their first studio album had been released two months before. But the familiar likes of their extended set pieces "The End" ( with additional lyrics) and "When The Music's Over" are only slightly more distinct in and of themselves than instrumentals led by keyboardist/vocalist Ray Manzarek.

The Modern Jazz Quartet's "Bag's Groove," authored by vibraphonist Milt Jackson, and Miles Davis' "All Blues' reside comfortably next to the George Gershwin standard "Summertime." Less surprising inclusions are blues numbers the band render no less honestly in the form of Willie Dixon and Howlin' Wolf's "Back Door Man" and "I'm A King Bee" by Slim Harpo. And that's not to mention New Orleans icon Allen Toussaint's "Get Out Of My Life Woman."

No less notably, at least to the casual listener and perhaps even to the self-avowed Doors aficionado, those cuts are as honest in their homage to roots as lead vocalist Morrison's extemporaneous recitations in tribute to the Beat poets who populated the San Francisco environs physically and psychically early in this 'Summer of Love.' He who became known (for all the wrong reasons), as 'The Lizard King' is wholly and completely restrained here, except for those moments when the pent up intensity radiating from his rough tenor voice elsewhere bursts free as at the end of an otherwise precise version of "Light My Fire."

Notwithstanding the source tapes, the audio remastered by long-time Doors engineer Bruce Botnick is a wonder to behold in and of itself. Alternately offering the intimate perspective of a table near the stage in this tiny room or a more panoramic perspective that loses no presence from that broad vantage point, these unadorned sonics further a full appreciation of the often-overlooked virtues of this foursome.

Drummer John Densmore's drumming has never sounded at once so agile and hard hitting, while the flamenco training of guitarist Robbie Krieger stands him in good stead for multi-directional lines rippling through "My Eyes Have Seen You." And Manzarek functions as the foundation of the Doors' skeletal sound in both singing (lead and background) and playing; on the latter front, besides supplying bedrock bass rhythm, he constantly interweaves rhythm and melody, then conjures the sound of an otherworldly calliope on "Unhappy Girl."

The accuracy of veteran journalist and author Joel Selvin's historical timeline surrounding these concerts, belies a curious detachment arising from his liner notes for this package. Thankfully, he doesn't engage in a song-by-song breakdown probing the minutiae of each member's participation, but his prose places him (and those who read it) at more than just a cool remove from the subject. In fact, the tone of his writing is such it begs the question of whether he appreciates the value of this release, much less dotes on the music within it.

And, notwithstanding its checkered history, that's antithetical to the stance Live At The Matrix 1967: The Original Masters deserves and compels. The very anticlimactic nature of this release actually may be one of its greatest virtues, not to mention a salient selling point: if it's true no Doors anthology or archive title releases the sense of wonder and abandon of their earliest work, it's also true that, with this compilation, both anticipation and expectation become moot by the end of just one pass through its three plus hours.

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