#1: A haunting sensation

Riders on the Storm & Northern Rhône Syrah

Few songs have the cinematic quality of The Doors’ Riders on the Storm. The opening alone conjures such a rich sense of atmosphere. The hissing rain and the roaring thunder; the instantly recognisable bass riff, like a killer’s purposeful skulk; that run of bright keyboard notes – a slice of moonlight through the rain. The sense of something strange afoot on a dark Californian road, as it twists into the hills.  

Listen closely, and you’ll hear the contrasting textures of this song. There’s the bassy backbone, hypnotic, like a swirl of deep flavours in a wine: sticky black fruit, leather and spice. Then there are the almost ethereal keyboard solos, like bursts of fresh fruit leaping forwards. And the most important element of all – Jim Morrison’s voice, like bruised fruit and walnut, simultaneously silky and rough. Strange words repeat themselves like a warning. We know we should stay away, yet we’re pulled back to the winter of 1970 all the same. The winter in which this song was recorded, and would prove to be Morrison's last before his untimely death, aged 27, in July 1971.

Such a song – rich and brooding, with an almost Gothic quality – demands a powerful wine to stand up to the experience. It is naturally a red wine, I think, with plenty of dark fruit, but it should also have complexity and bright acidity. There’s also an element of restraint throughout the song, never letting that underlying intensity overpower the overall sensation. So, whatever wine you choose should also have that tension between power and delicacy.  

A Northern Rhône red would be the perfect match; for me, this was a 2020 Côte Rôtie from Paul Jaboulet-Ainé. Silky texture, delicious depth of fruit – black cherries, plum and sticky blackberries – and touches of spice, all brought together with a lovely ribbon of freshness. Imagine the flavours dancing on your tongue, while Jim Morrison sings in your ear from the grave. Haunting stuff indeed.