How The Album "The Soft Parade" by the Doors Explains The Entire History of Mankind

This long neglected and admittedly flawed masterpiece by the Doors is one of my favorite albums of all time. True, it does contain Runnin' Blues featuring the unfortunate vocal stylings of one Mr. Robbie Krieger but hey the Doors put out a lot of albums in a short time; the occasional embarrassing mistake can be overlooked. The album also features some of the finest examples of what can best be called "Drunken Karaoke Jim Morrison" as well as the always competent back beat of John Densmore and enough keyboard work from Ray Manzarek to make you almost forget he thinks the entire concept of the sixties danced across his keyboard exclusively. Clocking in at a little over thirty minutes, it may appear at first to be a meager slice. But dig more deeply into the amplified weirdness, the use of brass instruments and lyrics that are somehow wistful and nihilistic at the same time and you will find a singular work of art one who's beauty is incomplete making it ripe for further examination. "The Soft Parade" is a coded message. A note on a scroll rolled up, placed in a bottle and allowed to drift across the decades.Reflected through the prism of its singularity, it might be possible to achieve a greater understanding of the universe and man's place in it.

Shall we try together?

Part One: Man Attempts to Conquer Nature (The Soft Parade)

The title track begins with Morrison shouting. His whiskey caked voice full of despair. He decries the distance at which God operates. There is no music yet, just one insignificant soul crying out in the wilderness.

"When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!"

This gives way to a haunting dose of clavichord tinged chamber music transporting the listener back in time. Morrison's lyrics take us back even further to our primitive ancestor's quest for shelter.

Can you give me sanctuary?
I must find a place to hide,
A place for me to hide.
Can you find me soft asylum?
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door.

This brings an abrupt change to the music indicating perhaps that no sooner had sanctuary been found then it was shattered. In this case, The Man may embody progress as the organ sound morphs from gentle clavichord to a more loungish Wurlitzer sound. And Caveman Morrison finds himself assaulted by the suddenness of the modern world.

Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy,
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled —
One is to sleep and the other is travel at dawn.
One is a bandit up in the hills,

Then, to lighten the proceedings, Morrison makes a crude joke that leaves one to wonder how much bigger a star a pansexual Jim Morrison might have been.

One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home.

Again led by Manzarek's organ, the tone shifts becoming playful, delicate, even a little silly. The lyrics take us once more from the primitive shelter of the caves to the modern streets of LA.

Catacombs,
Nursery bones,
Winter women
Growing stones,
Carrying babies
To the river;
Streets and shoes,
Avenues,
Leather riders
Selling news,

This leads us to the combining of the mundane and the spiritual.

The monk bought Lunch.

With real vigor and determination music begins to build and funk itself in new directions. The monk, by buying lunch, has proven that man's spiritual quest need take him no further than a taco stand on South La Brea Avenue. Now through the magic of Paul Rothchild's producing, we encounter three distinct Morrison's: Caveman Morrison, Jim Morrison and Acid Causality Morrison. They act as a Greek chorus while the music is building and in their confused utterances, we see man's confusion as he confronts the ineffable conditions imposed by nature.

He he he, he bought a little.
Yes, he did
Woo!

This is the best part of the trip.
This is the trip, the best part
I really like it.

What'd he say?
Yeah!
Yeah, right!
Pretty good, huh
Huh!
Yeah, I'm proud to be a part of this number!

As the music begins to even out and relax itself into quite a palatable groove, the logic behind the lyrics also suggests relaxation or at least acceptance.

Successful hills are here to stay,
Everything must be this way.
Gentle streets where people play,
Welcome to the Soft Parade.

All our lives we sweat and save,
Building for a shallow grave.
“Must be something else”, we say
“Somehow to defend this place.”
Everything must be this way,
Everything must be this way, yeah. Aah, yeah!

In a slight listing tonal shift, it begins to change direction again but more slowly, less suddenly than before. The lyrics also begin to slide as the mechanized and natural world meet, it becomes clear that we all march in "The Soft Parade."

The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum.
People out to have some fun,
Cobra on my left,
Leopard on my right, yeah.

Deer woman in a silk dress,
Girls with beads around their necks,
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night.

Out of sight!
The lights are getting brighter,
The radio is moaning,
Calling to the dogs.
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard,
But it's getting harder
To describe sailors
To the underfed.

Now those three Morrison's return as the song winds down. They argue about man's place in nature but seem content not to learn the answer.

Tropic corridor,
Tropic treasure,
What got us this far,
To this mild equator?
We need someone or something new,
Something else to get us through, yeah. C'mon!


Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
But it's gettin' harder Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' in the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the gods.
You gotta
Meet me Too late, baby!
Shoot a few animals аt the crossroads Too late!
let out in the yard.
But it's getting harder Whoa!
Gotta meet me You’ve done great, hey!
at the edge of town, Having a good time.
You’d better come along
outskirts of the city Let’s fun!
Just you and I
and the evening sky. We are so alone.
Better bring your gun You’d better come along.
You’d better bring your gun.
We’re gonna have some fun!
Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure.

As the music fades, one whispered voice suggests that man can only conquer nature one beast at a time. It is hardly a solution but like an philosophical quest, there are only questions and compromises never real solutions.

“When all else fails,
We can whip the horse's
Eyes and make them sleep
and cry.”