You’ve heard the chant.
About five minutes into "L.A. Woman," the title track of The Doors’ final 1971 album, the music drops into a swampy, slow-motion crawl. Jim Morrison starts muttering a phrase like a voodoo incantation.
Mr. Mojo Risin.
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He says it over and over. The tempo picks up. John Densmore’s drums begin to gallop. By the time the song explodes back into its main riff, Morrison is screaming it. For decades, fans thought it was just some drug-fueled gibberish or a vague blues reference.
Actually, it was a coded message hiding in plain sight.
The Anagram That Fooled Everyone
Honestly, the truth is simpler and weirder than the myths. During the recording sessions at the Doors’ Workshop on Santa Monica Boulevard, Jim Morrison grabbed a piece of paper. He wrote his own name: Jim Morrison.
Then he started drawing arrows.
He moved the letters around like a puzzle until they spelled out Mr. Mojo Risin.
It’s a perfect anagram.
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- J-I-M-M-O-R-R-I-S-O-N - becomes
- M-R-M-O-J-O-R-I-S-I-N
Drummer John Densmore recalls the moment Jim showed the band the paper. He thought it was brilliant. But there’s a layer to this that most casual listeners miss. Jim didn't just pick "Mojo" because it fit the letters.
In the Delta blues tradition—which the band was obsessively mining for that final album—a "mojo" was a flannel bag containing magic charms, roots, and bones. It was a voodoo amulet used to bring luck or, more often, sexual prowess. Muddy Waters sang about it. Got my mojo working.
By calling himself Mr. Mojo Risin, Jim wasn't just playing with his name. He was self-mythologizing. He was reclaiming the "Lizard King" energy he’d supposedly lost during the grueling Miami obscenity trials and his descent into heavy drinking.
Why the Tempo Changes Matter
If you listen closely to the recording, the "Mr. Mojo Risin" section isn't just a lyrical bridge. It's a structural masterpiece.
The band had been told by their long-time producer, Paul Rothchild, that their new material was "cocktail music." He hated it. He actually quit the sessions, leaving the band and engineer Bruce Botnick to produce the record themselves.
That rejection sparked a fire.
In the "Mojo" section, Densmore decided to treat the tempo like a physical reaction. As Jim chanted the anagram, the band slowly increased the beats per minute. Densmore later admitted he wanted the build-up to feel like an orgasm. It starts dark, slow, and sticky, then accelerates into a frantic, sweating peak.
They recorded most of "L.A. Woman" in a makeshift studio that used to be their rehearsal space. Jim actually recorded his vocals in the bathroom to get the right reverb.
You can hear that grit. It’s not polished. It’s the sound of a man who was about to leave for Paris and never come back.
The "Fake Death" Conspiracy
Here is where things get spooky.
Because Jim used an anagram for his name right before he died in July 1971, the "Jim is alive" crowd went wild.
A popular theory among Doors obsessives—one that Ray Manzarek, the band's keyboardist, occasionally humored in interviews—was that "Mr. Mojo Risin" was intended to be a code. The rumor was that if Jim ever successfully faked his death and moved to Africa or South America, he would contact the band members using that pseudonym.
Did he? No.
But the mystery persists because Jim loved these kinds of literary games. He was a fan of Rimbaud and Joyce. He loved the idea of the "Changeling." Using an anagram wasn't just a neat trick; it was a way to shed his skin.
What This Means for You Today
If you're a musician or a creator, there's a huge lesson in the "Mojo" sessions. The Doors were at their lowest point. Their producer had walked out. Their lead singer was facing jail time. They were being called "washed up."
They responded by stripping everything back.
- They brought in Elvis Presley’s bassist, Jerry Scheff.
- They played live in a room together.
- They leaned into the blues.
Actionable Insights from the Mojo Sessions:
- Embrace the "Workshop" Mentality: You don't need a million-dollar studio. The Doors made their best album in a rehearsal space with a vocal mic in the bathroom.
- Use Constraints Creatively: The anagram wasn't just a fluke. Jim took the "letters" of his identity and rearranged them into something new. When you're stuck, try rearranging the components of your project.
- The Power of the Build: If your content or art feels flat, look at the "Mojo" bridge. Start slow. Build tension. Don't be afraid to let the "tempo" of your work accelerate until it feels slightly out of control.
Jim Morrison died in a bathtub in Paris only a few months after "L.A. Woman" was released. He never got to see the song become a cornerstone of rock history. But every time that bridge kicks in and the tempo starts to climb, Mr. Mojo starts risin' all over again.
Digging Deeper
If you want to hear the rawest version of this, go find the 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition of L.A. Woman. It has the studio outtakes where you can hear the band "woodshedding" the song. You can hear Jim joking around between takes, proving that despite the "doomed poet" image, he was actually having the time of his life making this record.
Next time you’re driving through a city at night—doesn't have to be L.A.—crank the bridge. See if you can keep up with the beat. It’s harder than it sounds.