Ray Manzarek | Through the Shattered Lens

Alright, let’s talk about Light My Fire. You’ve probably heard it a million times on the radio, but trust me, you’ve been missing the point. The short version you hear is just a tease, a little taste. If you want to understand what The Doors are really about, you have to dive into the full album version. It’s a seven-minute trip, and the journey it takes you on is all about the instrumental break in the middle. It’s not just a pop song; it’s a full-blown experience that defined an era, blending psychedelic rock with a dark, bluesy undertow that still sounds fresh today. And here’s the kicker—the guy who wrote and composed this entire masterpiece, Robby Krieger, was only 18 years old when he came up with it. Eighteen. Let that sink in.

Now, the engine of this whole thing is Krieger’s guitar. It’s easy to get hypnotized by Ray Manzarek’s carnival-like organ solo that comes first—it’s a wild ride on its own—but when that ends, Krieger steps in and things get seriously real. This is where the song truly catches fire. His style is so unique; he wasn’t just playing rock and roll riffs. He was pulling from flamenco and jazz, bending notes and creating a sound that was both aggressive and almost conversational. He’s not just showing off; he’s telling a story with his guitar, and it’s absolutely hypnotic. Remember, this is a teenager crafting this—not some seasoned pro in his thirties. It’s mind-blowing.

You really need to pay close attention to when the guitar solo kicks in at 3:18. This isn’t a quick, tidy solo you’d hear on a standard pop track. It goes for over two minutes, and it builds and builds into this incredible peak. It’s crazy to think that at a time when most pop songs were winding down, The Doors were just getting started, stretching the boundaries of what a “hit song” could even be. It’s a serious statement from a band that wasn’t afraid to be different, and it’s why the radio edit is often seen as a crime against music. That an 18-year-old kid had the vision and the guts to push for something this ambitious just makes it even more legendary.

So, do yourself a favor. The next time you’re in the mood for something that’s more than just background noise, put on the full version of Light My Fire. Crank up the volume, close your eyes, and wait for that 3:18 mark. Let that searing guitar solo wash over you, and think about the fact that a teenager was behind it all. It’s raw, it’s poetic, and it’s the kind of pure, unfiltered musical magic that you just don’t hear anymore. Honestly, once you experience it in its full glory, you’ll never want to hear the short version again.

Light My Fire

You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn’t get much higher

Come on baby light my fire
Come on baby light my fire
Try to set the night on, fire

The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre

Come on baby light my fire
Come on baby light my fire
Try to set the night on, fire yeah

[guitar solo @3:18]

The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre

Come on baby light my fire
Come on baby light my fire
Try to set the night on, fire yeah

You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn’t get much higher

Come on baby light my fire
Come on baby light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire

Great Guitar Solos Series

Ø8é

Chevy Chase, Gregory Hines, and Wallace Shawn all play small-time arms dealers who get involved in a scheme to sell the “Peacemaker” drone to the dictatorship that has seized control of the Latin American country of San Miguel. After Shawn commits suicide, Chase and Hines are joined by his widow, who is played by Sigourney Weaver. Selling the Peacemaker should be easy except that Hines has a religious epiphany and becomes a pacifist and Chase himself is starting to have qualms about the way he makes a living. As his brother-in-law puts it, something bad seems to happen in every country that Chase visits.

Deal of the Century has the unique distinction of being one of the two films that director William Friedkin did not acknowledge in his autobiography, The Friedkin Connection. When Friedkin was asked why he left it out of his book, Friedkin said that he didn’t consider Deal of the Century to be a “Friedkin film.” He wanted to do a Dr. Strangelove-style satire while the studio wanted a board Chevy Chase comedy. The studio won, Friedkin was not given final cut, the movie bombed, and Friedkin didn’t see any reason to revisit the experience of making it.

Deal of the Century is a disjointed film. The best scenes are the one that are probably the closest to Friedkin’s original vision. These are the scenes set in weapons expos and that highlight the commercials designed to sell products of mass destruction. But those scenes are dwarfed by scenes of Chevy Chase being pursued by cartoonish guerillas in San Miguel and Gregory Hines overacting after getting baptized. Chase has a few good smartass scenes at the start of the film, some of which are reminiscent of his career-best work in Fletch. But he loses his way as the film goes on and his change-of-heart never feels convincing. The film ends with a burst of special effects that are unconvincing even for 1983.

Deal of the Century may have been directed by William Friedkin but he was correct to say that it is definitely not a Friedkin film.