Riders on the Storm: My Life With Jim Morrison and the Doors [Hardcover]

John Densmore (Author)

Book Description

Publication Date: August 1, 1990

Here is the book that Rolling Stone called "the first Doors biography that feels like it was written for the right reasons, and it is easily the most informed account of the Doors' brief but brilliant life as a group".


From the Trade Paperback edition.

--This text refers to the Kindle Edition edition.

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

Indispensable for fans of one of rock music's most flamboyant and controversial groups is Doors drummer Densmore's insider's look at hard-living singer Morrison, who died of a drug overdose in 1971. Like the trashier (and bestselling) biography No One Here Gets Out Alive by Jerry Hopkins and Daniel Sugarman, the book in hand provides numerous examples of Morrison's self-destructive behavior. But Densmore's love-hate relationship with the self-proclaimed "Lizard King" leads him to paint a more sympathetic picture of the doomed superstar, whose rebellious rock-poet persona is still worshiped today by fans ("Jim's decay was the dark side of an already very dark vision"). Densmore's detailed account of the Doors' rise and fall is often narrated in a glib style. But his extensive use of Morrison's lyrics thoughtfully reinforces his main concerns: Densmore's belief in music as a "new religion" on a par with his rejected Catholic upbringing; his ongoing attempt to build "an inner life" to match what he depicts as a heady and confusing musical career; and his "guilt over failing to save Jim." Photos not seen by PW.
Copyright 1990 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal

Such is the mystique, the iconoclastic reverence, the enduring commercial success and marketability of Jim Morrison, enigmatic lead singer of the Doors, 19 years after his death, that Densmore, founding Doors member and drummer, is repeatedly upstaged in his own autobiography. Densmore's inside-out account of the group's history perceptively examines relationships, dynamics, creative evolution, difficulties, and artistry, but Morrison in his many guises--angst-ridden poet, Lizard King, pop icon, and alcoholic--invariably dominates every chapter, story, and anecdote. In fact, Densmore addresses significant chunks of italicized text directly to Morrison in a therapeutic attempt to reconcile his own ambiguous feelings, often becoming overly confessional. This book should be very popular, especially as filmmaker Oliver Stone's anticipated Doors movie will undoubtedly create a new wave of Jim Morrison/Doors mania. Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 5/1/90.
- Barry Miller, Austin P.L., Tex.
Copyright 1990 Reed Business Information, Inc.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 319 pages
• Publisher: Delacorte Press (August 1, 1990)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0385300336
• ISBN-13: 978-0385300339
• Product Dimensions: 9.4 x 6.4 x 1.4 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.5 pounds
• Average Customer Review: 4.1 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (89 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,394,807 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

42 of 44 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Riding the storm out, May 21, 2003

By 

A. M. Rowe "music, book, and game freak" (N. Syracuse, NY USA) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

This review is from: Riders on the Storm: My Life with Jim Morrison and the Doors (Paperback)

I enjoyed this book immensely. Densmore has a personable, clear, consise style of writing and expresses himself very well. I felt I was there as he described events that happened 30 years ago. I laughed out loud at certain anecdotes in the book, especially when he describes avoiding the draft. For being the "uptight" one in the Doors, Densmore does have a sense of humour that comes through in his writing. He neither trashes Jim, nor does he gloss over Jim. He just tells it like it was. I never sensed any jealousy, just frustration, intimidation, fear, anger, but also admiration and brotherly love. Complex feelings. Clearly that's what Densmore is trying to get through, he wants to explain himself and isn't trying to hide or gloss over. There are many great anecdotes in this book, some funny, some sad, some plain scary! I could understand why Densmore felt the way he did at any given time, he explains it so well. The Doors were 4 very different personalities, obviously. I don't see any of them as being "the bad guy", but they obviously bumped heads due to personality clashes. That's life! Densmore was a teenager when he joined the Doors, so he pretty much grew up with them as well. That's another thing I found so interesting, Densmore sharing his growing-up with the reader, the things he learned along the way. He often addresses Jim directly in the book, telling Jim he learned integrity from him. I couldn't put this book down, very addictive reading.

17 of 17 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars Densmore Shows Us a Way In, July 17, 2000

By 

"jackvasile" - See all my reviews

This review is from: Riders on the Storm: My Life with Jim Morrison and the Doors (Paperback)

John Densmore's account of his life with Jim Morrison is a sensitive, searching memoir that invites readers to share its intimate point of view. Densmore details the genesis, breakthough, and dissolution of The Doors with an honesty made palpable by his obvious need for truthful answers. Anchoring the narrative are excerpts from a long letter Densmore wrote to Morrison after his death, and it is through this letter that the drummer enables us to understand how haunted he is by his time working and touring with Morrison, a gifted and difficult artist capable of both clear-eyed transcendence and frustrating childishness, of lucid grace and drunken mumblings. Densmore's reconciliation allows us access not only to his life with Morrison, but to our own lives with people who might similarly inspire and baffle us. RIDERS ON THE STORM makes for a wonderfully moving read, and Densmore's deft placement of Morrison's lyrics and poetry throughout illuminates what a fine and pioneering rock lyricist he was.

34 of 39 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars The Lizard King as seen by the Everyman who played behind him, May 12, 2007

By 

Daniel Berger (Atlanta, GA USA) - See all my reviews
(VINE VOICE)    (REAL NAME)   

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This review is from: Riders on the Storm: My Life with Jim Morrison and the Doors (Paperback)

I feel sorry for John Densmore. Despite having been a rock star, the member of what was one of the world's top half dozen rock groups, with all the groupies and money and glamor that that entailed, he remains at this book's writing phenomenally insecure - a nebbish who never found himself despite immersing himself in the California human potential culture purported to deliver exactly that.

He's insecure about girls, insecure about who's his friend, insecure about his drab middle-class roots, insecure about his life prospects and failure to have accomplished much of anything until he became part of the Doors. Some of the introspection in here is so bare and revealing it's almost embarrassing to read. The picture of this naïve Everyman locked into a creative foursome with Jim Morrison, the quintessential dangerous and destructive rock star, is priceless.

America was transiting from harmless British Invasion into superficially benign Flower Power, but Morrison meanwhile was wearing black, singing about sex and death, leading concerts that were like dark seances with somber endings, and challenging bandmates and audiences alike to confront their darker selves and deeper fears. He scared the hell out of the likes of John Densmore.

Morrison, as we know from organist Ray Manzarek's book "Light My Fire", once demanded that Densmore be kicked out of the group; he was just too neurotic and got on Morrison's nerves. Densmore found Morrison, particularly as his alcoholism and erratic behavior grew, so disturbing that Densmore had chronic skin rashes from the stress.

Densmore represents a certain sad byway of that era - people whose pursuit of peace and love, meditation and marijuana, sought to cover or compensate for intense feelings of inadequacy. Many young people who haven't quite found their way in life can feel lost in this way. Marijuana seducing them into compulsive introspection certainly couldn't have helped much. But accomplishing something - like, say, being a pretty fine jazz-rock drummer as Densmore was and putting out a unique body of work like the Doors' music - ought to have helped someone get past that. Densmore doesn't seem to have done so, remaining both lost and searching well into middle-age, and failing to see that maturity required moving beyond that. (Although later chapters touching on his men's movement involvement with Robert Bly suggest that perhaps he was getting a clue about this.)

Densmore's insecurity notwithstanding, this is still a worthwhile book. His painful honesty renders his memoir less varnished than Manzarek's and occasionally more convincing. Densmore gets us a little closer to what really happened with Morrison's death. Most signs point to an accidental heroin overdose, with the heroin provided by girlfriend Pam Courson, who later OD'ed herself, and who was being pursued by a French count who also used and also died of it. Densmore also gets us closer than Manzarek to the tragic sense Morrison projected and held of himself, that he told people he didn't think he'd live beyond youth, that he started every day rebelling against the universe before breakfast. Densmore found playing live behind him "intoxicating ... my new religion," but saw what a price Morrison paid for the edge-living that fed his fire, too brightly and too quickly consumed. A Doors concert, Densmore says, left "everyone in attendance ... cleansed - security guards included. What a show. A truly religious experience. Much better than church. Almost as good as sex! Better! A communion with twenty thousand people."

Densmore loved him as well as fearing him; some passages of the book are written as the letters Densmore would be writing him, if he could. Densmore finds common themes in Morrison's self-destruction and the suicide of Densmore's own mentally ill brother, including his own survivor's guilt and wondering if he could have done more to have saved either - concluding, ultimately, that no, he couldn't. Morrison in a later age might have gone through rehab, but at that time his associates had no clue about what he was doing or how to deal with it. A pity. There have been many dead rock musicians but few took so much potential with them when they went.