The final Doors album isn't really the final Doors album - the band would soldier on without Morrison for a couple of years, and provide music to a spoken word album of his poetry in 1978 - but it is the last one the band is willing to stand by. The album is evidence as to why: what made the Doors really stand out from the crowd was the mysterious, wild persona of Jim Morrison himself, which shines through on this album without restraint or remorse to an extent it hadn't done on any previous album by the group.
Musically speaking, the previous album's evocation of their blues-rock roots has progressed to a full fusion of blues and rock, with two longer tracks (L.A. Woman and Riders On the Storm) being standout moments. The playing is decent enough, but the vital spark which really pushes this album to greater heights comes from Morrison himself, who grunts, yells, and roars his way through the material. Dropping the high priest act he'd previously adopted on some tracks, Morrison is less inclined to intone pretentious poetry in a stentorian manner and more inclined to just run wild, a mild change to his performance style which pays off marvellously. It might not be as psychedelic as their earlier work, but the Doors never hit the blues as hard as they did here, and it's an excellent final album from Morrison which deserves your attention.