Not their masterpiece, but proof that beneath the legend there was a genuinely excellent band. After the psychedelic sprawl of The Soft Parade, Morrison Hotel finds The Doors returning to a leaner, earthier sound. It's more exciting and more varied than its reputation sometimes suggests, even if it remains tied to the blues-rock conventions that were practically compulsory at the turn of the decade. The album's greatest strength is its energy. "Roadhouse Blues" may be overfamiliar, but it's delivered with such conviction that it's difficult to resist. Elsewhere, "Peace Frog" remains a startling highlight, driven by a groove that feels oddly ahead of its time. There's something in its swagger and rhythmic pulse that anticipates the danceable rock of late 1980s Manchester more than it reflects 1970 Los Angeles. Yet Morrison Hotel is also where one of The Doors' persistent weaknesses becomes apparent. The blues-rock numbers are performed with absolute professionalism, but too often they feel like filler rather than inspiration. Unless the band finds something genuinely distinctive, as they do on "Roadhouse Blues", they can drift into sturdy but unremarkable bar-band territory. Tracks like "Land Ho!", "You Make Me Real" and the closing "Maggie M'Gill" never quite escape that "album track" status. They're competent, occasionally enjoyable, but they weigh down a record that otherwise has real momentum. Jim Morrison remains a fascinating figure at the centre of it all. Revisiting The Doors today, it's easier to separate the man from the mythology. Morrison was an excellent frontman with charisma to spare, though often a rather silly lyricist. His reputation owes something to his striking image and to Ray Manzarek's later tendency to portray him as a mystical shaman. What strikes me now is not the depth of his poetry but the possibilities left unrealised. There are moments here that suggest he could have aged into a superb crooner, moving away from blues clichés and becoming something altogether more sophisticated. Morrison probably had far more to offer than we'll ever know; music may only have been part of the story. The musicians themselves remain remarkable. Robby Krieger and John Densmore bring a looseness and jazz sensibility that frequently elevates the material. Manzarek's keyboard style is distinctive, though it also date-stamps the band somewhat. It's difficult to imagine him embracing the synthesiser-driven directions that rock would take later in the decade. Then again, with Krieger and Densmore's versatility, perhaps The Doors might have evolved in ways nobody expected. Is Morrison Hotel their best album? Probably not. The debut and Strange Days still feel stronger, more consistent and more original. But this remains a very good record, and another reminder that The Doors were a better band than either their detractors or devotees sometimes admit. My biggest frustration has never really been with The Doors themselves. It's with the cultural imbalance that followed. The Doors got the films, the revivals and the mythology, while equally worthy bands such as Love remain comparatively overlooked. Revisiting Morrison Hotel has increased my appreciation for The Doors, but it hasn't changed my belief that Love were one of the great underrated bands of the era.