The Doors: Live In Bakersfield August 21, 1970 (2CD)

The somewhat checkered history of archival exhumations from the vault of The Doors would no doubt preclude thinking that Live at the Matrix 1967: The Complete Masters (Rhino, 2023) would constitute anything like a 'be all and end all' of such efforts.

Still, to see Live in Bakersfield August 21, 1970 issued in such short order (ten weeks) after the aforementioned package is something of a surprise, if for no other reason than its appearance in compact disc form is contrary to the predominantly vinyl configurations that have dominated Record Store Day in recent years.

Recorded by the Doors' road manager and technical savant Vince Treanor—author of Behind The Doors (Aldus Book Company, 2022)—this happens to be one of the more unique shows from The Doors, given that it occurs during that tumultuous period when Jim Morrison was facing obscenity charges dating back to 1969 in Miami.

Not only were live concerts few and far between in the wake of the Florida incident, but the venues available were considerably smaller than those the group played at the pinnacle of its popularity; this California theater, for instance, had a capacity of roughly three thousand. Still, the very intimacy of the room may have had more than a little to do with the forthright expressions of the band, instrumentally and otherwise.

Nevertheless, even prior to the most significant controversy the Doors had ever encountered, the quartet's inclinations to improvise had dissipated, almost in direct proportion to the elevation of the lead vocalist's celebrity. At this late summer appearance immediately following a court date, though, the foursome's well-honed proclivities for spontaneity stand it mostly in good stead.

Hear, for instance, the segue of "Love Me Two Times" off the sophomore Doors album Strange Days (Elektra, 1967) into a medley consisting of homage to Elvis Presley in the form of "Mystery Train," an unrecorded original titled "Away in India," and then on to Robert Johnson's "Crossroads," all by way of "Baby Please Don't Go" and "St. James Infirmary" (both of which are officially uncredited).

Also missing specific reference in the tracklisting is a snippet of Curtis Mayfield's "People Get Ready" (though archivist Daniel Dutkowski does speak of them all in his essay). The omission of the latter is all the more odd given such tease speaks to a deliverance the so-called 'Lizard King' may well have been seeking at this point.

Slightly more rehearsal of this segment might well have turned this interlude as fiery as later intervals including the markedly tighter penultimate selection, "Ship Of Fools (off Morrison Hotel (Elektra, 1970)). Yet a second medley of "Universal Mind" and Mongo Santamaria's "Afro Blue" is far superior to its counterpart: the former, a spoken word segment of Morrison's, sounds most pertinent to his legal predicament and, as such, conjures dramatic tension ultimately resolved in the extended instrumental passage that follows.

Intentionally or not, it clearly recalls the jam in the long version of "Light My Fire" (a tune notably not part of this setlist). Robby Krieger's guitar lines slither in and around Ray Manzarek's piano runs to potent effect, while drummer John Densmore, even as he remains his recognizably fluid self, engages in some nimble hammering on his kit too.

Missing segments of the two-track recording—most conspicuous at the very outset during"Roadhouse Blues"—are as annoying as the multiple drop outs during the second half of the performance. But, as on that aforementioned opening number, there's sufficient presence and separation to vividly capture the percussionist, pushing himself and his bandmates in uncommonly hard-hitting fashion.

While those sonic imperfections are impossible to overlook, they might well be heard as metaphors for the tattering of the Doors' reputation and the bond of the band as an instrumental unit. Mastering credits and kudos go to long- time Doors engineer Bruce Botnick, along with technical expert Bernie Grundman, for rendering this material listenable overall, but there's no denying this is the sound of a band fighting a discernible—and perhaps inevitable—fall from grace.

In that sense, then, this two-CD set resides at the opposite end of the musical spectrum from the pre-fame performances that comprise Live At The Matrix. As recounted by the aforementioned good-humored and self- effacing Dutkowski in two sets of prose, procuring the most complete set of tapes took precedence in the assembly of this release. But the graphic design for the slimline sleeve also features a subdued and inviting color scheme for the artwork inside and out, as well as the enclosed eight-page booklet.

As such, the package itself befits the collectible nature of Live in Bakersfield August 21, 1970. More importantly, however, this set documents one of the final in-person events of the Doors' career (the very last would occur in December of this same year), one that turns eerily true-to-life during the extended final tracks on each compact disc.

Appearing at the mid-way point of this roughly ninety minutes, "When The Music's Over" sounds like an ever-so- fervent statement of purpose by this iconic band. Then, at the very conclusion, a subdued, nearly sixteen-minute rendition of "The End" might well function as a fitting epitaph for the Doors; like its counterpart, this cut is self-disciplined instrumentally and vocally plus bereft of melodrama. It is provocative content such as this at the source of seemingly never-ending fascination with this Los Angeles group that reached its pinnacle of popularity over a half-century ago.

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