The long awaited faux lizard skin clad, seven 180g LP The Doors box set has finally arrived, two years late, at a higher than originally announced cost, and for now (May, 2008), in very short supply.

Was it worth the wait? I anxiously broke open my edition (03631 or 12,500) to find out, armed with originals (including the rare mono first album), the Mo-Fi first album, the DCC reissues, now more than a decade old, and some Japanese Warner-Pioneer reissues from the 1980's.

First of all, for the most part, the box set's packaging is truly D-luxe and the labels and inserts accurate to the originals. Only Morrison Hotel misses the mark by not reproducing the original's textured, matte-finished cover material.

The insert containing notes by Elektra founder and president Jac Holzman and Doors engineer Bruce Botnick, provide welcome background and perspective on both LP history in general and production of the originals, as well as a discussion of how these reissues were produced.

By now, almost everyone knows that because of the delicate condition of the now, in some cases, more than forty year old (!) tapes, Holzman and Botnick chose to digitize the reels at 192k/24 bit resolution in order to preserve both their physical and sonic integrity and to allow them to manipulate and deal with sonic problems in preparation for the final cutting without compromise.

What constitutes an original of the first three albums is not as easy as a gold Elektra label. The first two were first mastered, as Botnick points out, by Sydney Feldman at Mastertone Sound in New York City (did he really spell it with a 'y,' which is usually used for the woman's version, or was that a typo?).

I have four gold label copies of Strange Days, but only one has an 'MMatrix' stamp and the date (10-3-67) inscribed on the lead out groove area and it is, by far, the most detailed and dynamic (and brightest) sounding of the four. I assume it's the original cut by Mr. Feldman. It's the one I first enjoyed back in the fabled summer of 1967.

The first two dark and mysterious albums were The Doors' creative peak for me, though in retrospect, Waiting For The Sun, the third album issued summer of 1968 (and originally mastered by Bernie Grundman at Contemporary), though flawed, holds up rather well. Songs like 'The Unknown Soldier,' 'Summer's Almost Gone,' and 'Five to One,' soundtrack selections for many boomers that summer, still pack a punch.

Soft Parade shows a rock band unsure of its direction and wallowing in the distractions of jazz rhythms, busy horn arrangements and stale riffs, then and more so now. The Doors sounding like Chicago? Who needs that, although the string-tinged three minute 'Wishful Sinful' makes some magic and the extended, oddly dichotomized Zappa-esque/Broadway title tune is entertaining in retrospect, but it clearly shows a band following, rather than leading trends.

When the band attempted to find the magic formulas of the first two albums, they found the formulas but not the magic. The mystery and magic of the first two albums, softened on the third, are gone completely on Soft Parade. Even the recording, though competent, lacks the high style and sonic depth of the first two and to a lesser degree the third. Leave it to the public to elevate the lame 'Touch Me' to near the top of the charts. At the end of the tune Morrison spits out the Ajax (the foaming cleanser) advertising slogan 'Stronger Than Dirt,' both because the song's end riff mirrors the slogan, and, it's often said, as Morrison's editorial comment on his band mates' attempts to commercialize 'Light My Fire' by allowing its use in a television car commercial. Morrison vetoed the idea.

1970's Morrison Hotel nudged the Doors toward their bluesy roots (despite the psychedelic trappings, the blues was at the band's core) and returned credibility to the band after The Soft Parade— though the band never had any with a certain segment of the rock audience and among certain critics who thought Morrison and the boys were hokey pretenders.

With so much to prove and so much hanging on its success, Morrison Hotel has a bit too much nervous energy for its own good. In retrospect, it's a good album but not a great one and it doesn't contain any truly 'classic' tracks.