Oh Doors - they're rip-roaring when Morrison breaks on through, but too often his baritone and the backing band's bass and organ swirls make for a murky mess, a blanket of stifling humid air.
There's hookiness here, drawing on blues and general Americana to conjure dusty energy, spinning the sound out in a dozen little directions. But goddamn, Morrison's voice, swampy and winedark and all-consuming, a weight in the gut, making even the hookiest song echo from across a heroin haze, making every song a varying degree of misery 3/5
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