The man in the white Miami Vice suit is clearly bedraggled on booze. “Jim! I want to be close to you!” he screeches, wobbling towards some nervous fellow audience members. Up on stage, Jim Morrison bows his head gracefully – listening for his queue as an incense stick streams away behind him. But then comes the holler again. “Be close to me Jim! I love yoooou!” Finally, Jim looks up through his beard and raises a single, compassionate eyebrow. “Hey man,” he mediates. “We love Jim too.”

Backstage, thirty minutes earlier. Robby Krieger is opening a beer in the dressing room and pondering this exact kind of madness – the kind that overcomes a small minority of audience members. “Most people know it’s a tribute band, but some people do just totally lose it in the… er, suspension of disbelief.”

Screencap of The Doors Alive, performing one of  The Doors classics

Of course, Robby is not yet Robby. In the dressing room his name is Baz – guitarist with The Doors Alive, the UK’s number one Doors tribute band. I’ve come to tonight’s venue to get an understanding into what drives ordinary, frequently exceptional musicians into devoting their lives to performing in tribute acts. (Gimi Hendrix are here too, but they’re on stage at the moment.) As I walk into the room, it’s immediately clear which member is portraying Jim Morrison. Grazing on a leather sofa behind curly dark hair is Willie Scott; the quietly spoken and deep thinking lust-bait of the band. But if there’s one thing I don’t expect from The Lizard King, it’s to hear him speak in a mellow Scottish burr.

“They see me on stage talking in a Californian accent,” he laughs, “then if I see them later and talk to them, they say ‘Hang on – are you from fucking Scotland now?’ and it’s like… ’I’ve always been from fucking Scotland!’”

While tribute bands with a distinct air of cheese may well exist, The Doors Alive are not one of them. As they speak about the original group and their achievements, the respect is palpable. “A classical orchestra will play Bach, they’ll play Mozart,” says Buzz (John Densmore). “Jazz standards are played time and time again. This is just the same thing applied to rock music – we’re playing the jazz standards of their time.” And yet the original Doors were interested in philosophy and, in part, the notion of crowd control and spontaneous rioting. According to footage, Jim Morrison would go as far as to abuse his audiences, dubbing them a “bunch of fucking slaves.” Would it be crossing a line for The Doors Alive to experiment with that sort of thing?

“We don’t incite riots or anything like that,” smiles Willie. “But we do whip them up a bit. Any band does really. But we wouldn’t take it as far as Nietzsche or trying to brainwash people to act in a violent way or anything like that.

‘Jim Morrisson’ aka Willie Scott gives the thumbs up

“As for the slaves line… I have put that in the set a couple of times. Just when I thought it was appropriate. ‘You’re all a bunch of fucking slaves!’ But again, that’s just part of the act.”

“Although when that does happen, you can feel the tension,” says Baz quietly. “It’s visceral. Some people get it but…”

Downstairs, Jimi Hendrix is having a fag. His band, The Gimi Hendrix Experience have just come off having blown away any first-timers with a thrilling, shadow-boxing take on the original trio. I approach him, wondering whether performing the same role time and time again might have an impact, Ziggy-style, on the psyche of the ‘actor’.

“I’m a different person,” says Jimi (aka Stuart Morgan) reassuringly. “Though because he’s such a huge hero of mine, some of the things he said and was about – I like to think I’ve taken those on board, definitely. Even though it was a different time, I think he’s a really insightful, articulate person – I’d hope that I’ve taken some of that on board.”

‘Gimi Hendrix’

Mitch Mitchell is also having a fag. “When we first started we were sat in a pub, pretty well oiled – and we decided there wasn’t a Hendrix tribute band around that we would want to see,” he says. “And we thought it was a great shame, because you don’t get to see that music live anymore. It’s about a celebration of that music as opposed to stepping into their shoes, because – let’s make no bones – you ‘aint gonna step into their shoes!” This sentiment is echoed back in the dressing room, where Willie agrees that when the leather trousers come on, he’s Jim, and when they come off, he’s Willie again. And speaking of those leather trousers…

“Shit, we’re on in eight minutes,” says Buzz (John Densmore). “These trousers were made to order,” says Willie, pulling himself into them, “because if you look at most leather trousers they have pockets, like they’re leather jeans or… ah. I’ve just noticed I’ve got a scratch on my fucking arse.” What about the belt, I ask, hesitating before adding: “eBay?”

“Yep, off eBay. They’re silver, made by American Indians.”

During tonight’s show, the band make good on an earlier promise to improvise within the parameters of their subject, keeping the music vibrant for its performers – and the audience enthralled. Yet I’m also reminded of my earlier suspicion that the dark side of The Doors might make for some challenging moments. During the climax, The Doors Alive perform The End with its original lyrics intact – including the controversial Oedipus section. The spotlight narrows in on Willie as the music goes quiet. “Father? Yes son? I want to kill you’. Willie does not hold back. “MOTHER? I want to… fuck you all night long yeah!”

It later transpires that Willie had noticed a ten-year old child in the audience, and had been subtly motioning towards him to cover his ears during the challenging parts. Moments like this require professional, split-second decisions, but despite this he clearly relishes the drama. “It’s kind of fun actually,” he smiles, back upstairs. “They do expect the wildness. But it also depends how much wildness you want to give them.”

Tonight, the band are expected to pack up immediately: a nightclub is moving in to double up the ticket sales. “We’re on what we call a ‘disco load out’, fucking move it,” says Willie. “There’s no time to even have a beer – you’ve got to get the clothes off, get back there and load up, because the DJ dudes will be coming in. To be honest, all you want to do is sit for five minutes and reflect.”

There will be no communal LSD experience in the desert tonight, but despite the urgency of the situation, The Doors Alive are match fit. Packing up. Smiling as they go. “I’m playing out the role of Morrison,” says Willie, “but not too much. Or we’d only be able to play half of our shows!”

 

Words: Ric Rawlins

@ricrawlinzo