The current contretemps associated with the possibility of ½ of the band formerly known as “The Doors” reappearing as “The Doors”—when, perhaps, they ought to be retitled something like “The Dutch Doors,” indicating their partialness—was brought to mind when I was reading a piece in the March 13, 2003, issue of The Wall Street Journal. Specifically, I thought of the Lizard King, the incident from many, many years ago (the Early Middle Age of Rock, as it were), when he reportedly released his lizard while on stage during a performance in Florida. Naturally, the authorities became involved and led him away in cuffs. Some people interpreted this response as still another instance of “The Man” clamping down on the spirit of rock and roll. We had—and I suspect that the present tense of that verb holds, as well—no idea what “clamping down” means. In fact, in many other places on the planet, there might have been some actual clamps applied to his equipment prior to its (i.e., the equipment’s) removal.

The Wall Street Journal story isn’t about The Doors. It is about The Rolling Stones (and is appropriately in the “Marketplace” section of the paper: let’s not forget the coffers of loot that the Stones—especially Keith and Mick have accumulated in their long, long years of recording and roading). It deals with the band’s forthcoming concert in China. As was the case in other parts of the world, the live performance is preceded by the release of the recording that we know in the U.S. as Forty Licks, a compilation of, clearly, 40 songs. But that’s not the case in China. Rather than 40, the author of the WSJ article, Leslie Chang, points out that the sum is trimmed to 36. Apparently, the Chinese government is not appreciative of four of the songs that many of us might consider to be quintessential Stones. They are:

— “Brown Sugar”

— “Beast of Burden”

— “Honky Tonk Women”

— “Let’s Spend the Night Together”

For those of you with a historical perspective, you’ll recall that the most recent of those tunes, “Beast of Burden,” appeared in ’78 on Some Girls, while the oldest, “Let’s Spend the Night Together,” appeared in ’67 on Between the Buttons.

Even though a decreasing number of people will vaguely recall that Ed Sullivan prohibited the band from using the title phrase “Let’s spend the night together,” insisting that the temporal tryst be “some time,” that was when TV was still broadcast in black and white, and not because of any auteur effect, either. Here it is, the 21st century, and the Chinese government is, apparently, troubled by lyrics that are, by almost any contemporary yardstick not being yielded by someone who many people might generously consider to be a prude, not particularly distressing. It is hard to imagine that those lyrics remain controversial. Yet they do.

Which brings another thought to mind, one that should lead to a bit of questioning about the blitheness with which we apply labels to things.

Consider: The Rolling Stones are “the Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World.” That seems to be undisputed. People may quibble, but the epithet holds. Yet take this fact into account: the population of Beijing is estimated to be 11 million. Tickets for the Stones concert went on sale last month. The venue seats 7,000. Forty percent of those seats, according to the WSJ article, remain unsold. While one could argue that the tariff for the ducats is larcenous (the gents didn’t get rich through largess), wouldn’t the “greatest” band in “the world” manage a sellout toot sweet? Our doors of perception require an occasional adjustment, it seems.