• NataliBob
• 23 Dec 2024
• Музыка, театр, кино
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Monkee-mania… in the ’70s?

I wrote a prototype version of this piece in 1973, at a time when admitting you liked the Monkees was about as cool as driving a Rambler with racing stripes. Definitely unhip — after all, were they not the very epitome of manufactured plasticity and the soulless Hollywood approach to musical mass marketing? But now, while — judging from the vast inattention paid to the reformed group's singles and album — Monkees fever is not exactly widespread, it's become quite commonplace to profess admiration for the Monkees, even fashionable in certain radical pop revisionist circles. There are fanatic collectors avidly tracking down every last manifestation of Monkees arcana (even unspeakable Davy Jones solo singles), the two-season run of TV shows has been exhumed and put into syndication, and when Mickey Dolenz and Davy Jones joined with their former head songwriters Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart to perform at amusement parks in Summer 1975, capacity audiences (a startling proportion 15 or under) went wild over them.

Listening to the Monkees' records today, it's hard to remember what all the controversy was about. It's bright, well-crafted pop music, slick enough, to be sure, but compared , to the well- krafted processed American individually wrapped singles of, say, the Partridge Family (which I also tend to like — try and tell me Queen's "You're My Best Friend" isn't a Partridge Family record at heart), the Monkees sound raw and exciting. Mix "Last Train To Clarksville" in with a current Top 20 assortment and you'll marvel at how vibrantly it stands out.

But in Fall 1966, when the Monkees were launched, things looked different, and time and circumstances combined to ignite an uproar. In 1964 there might have been a lot of people who felt the Beatles were a plastic phenomenon rammed down the public's throats by unscrupulous money-mad manipulators, but they had no constituency and no convenient means to broadcast their heretical views. But 2 ¹/₂ years later, rock music had become a youth religion, passionately espoused by a mob of 17-24 predominantly-male fanatics, spearheaded by an articulate (and rather snobbish) rock press just getting started. For this massive bloc of the rock-loving population, music was a progressive force, constantly evolving to newer, more mind-blowingly advanced states. The Beatles, the Stones, even those congenital surfer wimps the Beach Boys were taking rock to new heights with every release; a few months later Cream and Hendrix would make their weighty presence known. Music was becoming ever hipper, ever more meaningful, ever more creative, and just where did these media moguls get off.trying to work this Monkees scam?

Everything about it was offensive, from the original Variety ad soliciting four "crazy" personalities to star in a TV series about a rock group and make records — no existing rock group would do, of course; Hollywood had to manufacture one. Naturally 437 struggling musicians and actors (Stephen Stills among them, legend has it) showed up. And when it came time to pick the final foursome, did the moguls consider musical talent? Right — Micky Dolenz, child star of Circus Boy; a British shrimp named Davy Jones, who'd starred in Oliver; plus two unknowns.

Then Screen Gems took this mismatched unmusical quartet and unleashed a huge publicity buildup, tying in the weekly TV series. “We plan to give them the same publicity treatment as the Beatles in every respect," trumpeted a spokesmen. "With 30,000, 000 people watching them regularly Monday night, they should be bigger than the Beatles." Bigger than the Beaties'! Hey, their TV show was a total steal from Hard Day's Night; their first record, that "Clarksville" thing, was stolen from "Paperback Writer." And wouldn't you know it, these dumb kids went out and bought a million of it and pushed it to #1. They bought millions of their first album and kept it on the charts for 78 weeks, with the second LP supplanting it in the top spot, 31 consecutive weeks of Monkees at # 1.

Those albums — you know the Monkees didn't even WRITE THEIR OWN SONGS! The LP's were sanctuaries for washed-up Brill Building hacks and such — look at 'em: Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, Boyce writing prehistoric Fats Domino hits, both of them making unsuccessful solo records since the early 60's, teaming up to write the "Where The Action Is" theme for Dick Clark and Freddy Cannon. Plus all these relics of the pre-Beatles era like Goffin and King, David Gates, Russ Titelman, Jack Keller, Jeff Barry, the Tokens, Neil Sedaka, and bubble- gummers like Neil Diamond.

• Yes. you too can learn to play just like the Monkees with this revolutionary new method... just hire a bunch of studio musicians to do it for you!

[Pre-Monkees]
MIKE NESMITH
Just a Little Love/Curson Terr Edan 1001 MICKEY DOLENZ
(Played in a band called the Missing Links. No known records. See also post-Monkees releases on Challenge)
DAVY JONES
Dream Girl/Take Me to Paradise Colpix 764 What are we Going to do?/This Bouquet
Colpix 784
The Girl From Chelsea/Theme For a New
Love - Colpix 789
David Jones - Colpix CP 493
THE MONKEES
ВЧ = = Last Train to Clarksville/Take a Giant Step (PS) - Colgems 1001 12-66 I'm a Believer/il'm Not Your) Stepping Stone (PS) - Colgems 1003 3-67 A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You/The
Girl I Knew Somewhere* - Colgems 1004 7-67 Pleasant Valley Sunday/Words (PS)
Colgems 1007
11-67 Daydream Believer/Goin' Down*(PS) Colgems 1012
3-68 Valleri/Tapioca Tundra Colgems 1019 6-68 D.W.Washburn*/lt's Nice to Be With
You*(PS) - Colaems 1023 9-68 Porpoise Song/As We Go Along(PS)t
Colgems 1031 2-69 Tear Drop City/А Man Without a Dream (PS) - Colgems 5000 5-69 Listen to the Band/Someday Man (PS) - Colgems 5004 9-69 Good Clean Fun/Mommy & Daddy (PS) - Colgems 5005 5-70 Oh My My/I Love You Better (PS)
Colgems 5011 8-76 Daydream Believer/Monkees' Theme
Arista 0201
• = non-LP; t = A-side longer than on LP

NOTES: Songs indicated as non-LP may have appeared on Colgems LPs 115 or 1001, which we haven't seen. There were countless foreign releases of different LP tracks, most notable being the 1967 English smash "Alternate Title" (actually "Randy Scouse Git", but the Liverpudlian slang implications were too much for the BBC). We have an Italian release of "Monkees Theme" sung in Italian, and there may be other foreign- language records extant. In America there were several cereal box record releases, and at least two jukebox EPs (CGLP-101, The Monkees, and CGLP-102, same title, featuring six cuts each off their first two LPs.)

10-66 Meet the Monkees - Colgems 101 1-67 More of the Monkees - Colgems 102 6-67 Headquarters - Colgems 103
11 -67 Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones, Ltd. - Colgems 104 5-68 The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees
- Colgems 109 12-68 Head (soundtrack) - Colgems 5008 2-69 Instant Replay - Colgems 113
6-69 Greatest Hits - Colgems 115 10-69 The Monkees Present [Mickey,
David, Michael] - Colgems 117
5-70 Changes - Colgems 119
?-70 Barrel-Ful of Monkees -Colgems 1001 9-72 Re-Focus - Bell 6081
7-76 Greatest Hits - Arista 4089
[same as Re-Focus]

Further notes: In watching the syndicated reruns of the TV series, several observers have noted the existence of high-quality, finished songs broadcast on the shows which apparently never turned up on albums. There's also a fabulous live concert on one show. If it's running in your neighborhood, it's worth following with cassette recorder at the ready- there may be enough new material for an entire album...

[Post-Monkees]
DAVY JONES
You're a Lady/Who Was It?
MGM 14458 ?-73 Rubberene/? MGM 14524
7-71 RainyJane/? Bell45,111
3-72 I'll Believe in You/The Road to Love MICKEY DOLENZ Bell 45,178
?-67 Don't Do It/Plastic Symphony III
Challenge 59353 8-67 Huff Puff/? Challenge 59372

Note: these came out during the Monkees period, but probably date from much earlier) 10-71 Easy on You/Oh Someone (co-arran- ged by Peter Tork) - MGM 14309 ?-72 A Lover's Prayer/Unattended in the Dungeon - MGM 14395 ?-73 Daybreak/Love War (prod.by Harry Nilsson) - Romar710

MIKE NESMITH
Many fine LPs & 45s with First National Band and other aggregations. Nesmith has enjoyed a long and productive post-Monkees career, which has no doubt been documented in full by one of those amazing British publications. PETER TORK
Tork has recorded practically nothing since the breakup of the Monkees.
DOLENZ.JONES.BOYCE & HART
?-75 I Remember the Feeiing/You & I
Capitol 4180
?-76 I Love YOU (And I'm Glad That I Said lt)/Savin’ My Love For You - Capitol 4271 ?-76 Dolenz, Jones, Boyce & Hart - Capitol LP

Final note: Davy Jones was, for a short time, given his own label, Davy Jones Presents, with his picture on it. He released no records of his own on the label, which was devoted to other artists whom he was presumably presenting to his appreciative fans. Some releases:

6662 - Randy Johnson - Fly Superman Fly/ Have You Been Dreaming 663 - Dickie Goodman - White House
Happening/White House Rock

Then it got out that not only did the Monkees not write their own songs well, except for Mike Nesmith's "Mary Mary" and a few others), they didn't even play on their own records. They had some musical background —Dolenz had made a couple of amusing singles and had been lead singer for a group called the Missing Links (as "Mike Swain"); Nesmith and Peter Tork had folk backgrounds (Nesmith at least had recorded); and Davy Jones had even made the charts in 1965 with a hideous bit of crypto-Cockney fluff called "What Are We Going To Do." But Dolenz had never played drums, even in the circus, and though Nesmith and Tork were competent guitarists, no one could figure out what musical function Davy Jones should serve, so he was relegated to tambourine-banging, winsome glances, and (unfortunately) singing. Rather than eat up studio time painstakingly pumping albums out of this motley line-up, the corporate powers hired a bunch of sharp session musicians.

Well, that sealed it. From that point on everybody (except the millions of obviously naive youngsters who adored and lavishly supported the group and somehow didn't know or care about the authorship of the songs or the identity of the musicians) considered the Monkees terminally fame, and the stigma followed them throughout their career, even after they started to play on their own records (from the third album, Headquarters, on), got sneaky-hip with songs like Nilsson's "Cuddly Toy" (crammed with biker slang descriptive of a gang-bang), and made records that for sheer artistry stood up with anyone's (Goffin, King's brilliant, brooding "Porpoise Song," arranged by Jack Nitzsche).

Nowadays, when the hipness of a record is generally measured by its lineup of sidemen, when it's known that a group as forbiddingly cool as the Byrds didn't play on "Mr. Tambourine Man" (except McGuinn), and when considerable doubt has even been cast on the extent of Ringo's percussive role, it's hard to get exercised over the Monkees' peccadillos. Likewise, now that the status of the professional songwriter has been upgraded and the dreary end-products of compulsive self-contained originality have been laid bare in album after mediocre album, the Tin Pan Alley issue as regards the Monkees can be put to rest as well. Reviewers, radio stations, and record buyers today would drool over albums full of songs by Goffin/King, Nilsson, Sedaka, and Diamond; the Monkees, thanks to Don Kirshner and his extensive publishing connections, always had nothing but the best for material.

And they did it justice too. The instrumental backing is always crisp — overlush on the drippy ballads which (like "Michelle" or "This Boy" for the Beatles) were always present, but sparkling on the upbeat songs ("Clarksville.” "Pleasant Valley Sunday," or that guitar on "Valleri"). Micky Dolenz had an excellent pop voice, light and chirpy and vastly appealing. Nesmith sounded good too, especially later on with "Listen To The Band" and similarly adventurous originals, and if Davy Jones was a perpetual weak link and incurable wimp, even he couldn't ruin dynamite Neil Diamond ditties like "A Little Bit Me A Little Bit You," "I'm A Believer", and "Look Out Here Comes Tomorrow" (along with "Cherry Cherry" and "Love To Love" his greatest works). Toe nine Monkees albums (excluding repackages) are full of good songs (though the quality tends to drop near the end), and anyone who reinvestigates is sure to be pleasantly surprised.

The Monkees' career was meteoric — 20 months or so at the top and an abrupt decline. While the TV series was on the air, they had six singles go Top 3 (three #1's), and five albums reaching 1, 1, 1, 1 and 3. When the series went off the air (June 1968), the next single, the dismal "D.W. Washburn," barely made Top 20 (probably meriting a lower showing in terms of pure retail sales), and the Monkees never reached the Top 30 again on either singles or albums. They went on to make records through mid-1970, some mediocre, some excel- loent; and they made a difficult surreal film extenion of their TV series, the movie Head, which brought in less than a box-office bonanza. Tork left first in late 1968, apparently tired of his perennial dork typecasting, and went off to live the free life, teaching guitar and playing softball and generally keeping a low profile. Nesmith dropped out in 1969, going on to a pair of hit singles ("Joanne" and "Silver Moon") and a number of low-key, critically-priased country-rock-folk album experiments. Dolenz and Jones made a last Monkees album in 1970, a single or two (one as Starship); Dolenz went on to cut a number of zany TV commercials and pleasant singles, and Jones cut a number of decidedly unpleasant singles.

Finally, in mid-1975, Dolenz and Jones decided to give it another shot. Nesmith was obviously uninterested and Tork was apparently unavailable ("Nobody asked me," he reportedly said later), so Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, who'd capitalized on their Monkees successes ("Clarksville," "Valleri," "I'm Not Your Steppin' Stone," "Words) by teaming for four chart singles and three albums, were enlisted. They had eventual у split, and had enjoyed only sporadic success apart, so they were more than ready. The new quartet lured Keith Allison away from the fading Raiders to front a band, and they lined up gigs at amusement parks across the country. They put on a thoroughly entertaining show, mixing sterling versions of "Pleasant Valley Sunday" and "I'm A Believer," "Steppin' Stone," "Clarksville," even Boyce and Hart's delightful bubblegummer "I Wonder What She's Doing Tonight" with broad comedy, and it all looked and sounded great and was received with tumultuous adulation.

About the same time, the TV series went into syndication in various regions, and it was a revelation! Not only did the music (one or two songs a show) sound terrific (including a tantalizingly large number of songs which didn't seem to have ever been released on record, but the comedy bits were often dazzling. No mere Hard Day's Night ripoff after all, the Bob Rafelson-directed segments were dizzying in their complexity, full of sharp lines (and clinkers as well, of course) and amusing satire —all in all the most bizarre comedy series since the truly surreal Burns & Alien.

Conditions seemed ripe for a full-fledged Monkees revival. The new group (forced for legal reasons to adopt the unwieldy moniker Dolenz, Jones, Boyce & Hart) signed to Capitol, and the debut single, "I Remember the Feeling," was encouragingly good. But it was discouragingly unsuccessful, as was an inferior follow-up, and the generally disappointing album didn't sell well either. Monkees revival fever is by no means a dead issue—Arista (where careers are launched) recently relaunched a greatest hits package which is charting at a surprisingly high level as this is written, with "Daydream Believer" released as a single. But there are no signs of Beatles/Beach Boys- style furor in the air.

No matter, though. The Monkees are now by and large free of the historical black marks which haunted them through the years. They proved that manufactured pop could be marketed successfully on a truly massive level, and that's been a lesson that for better or worse has not been lost on today's multi-media manipulators. But the Monkees also proved that manufactured pop could be as delightful as any form of rock, that prepackaged plasticity was no bar to genuine excitement, and that even the crassest pop puppets could aspire to brilliance (the Bay City Rollers' "Rock & Roll Love Letter" is the most recent example). In the pop pantheon the Monkees now shine like a beacon, with their own cold, calculated light, but besides all that they were always a barrel of fun, and at this point there's just no excuse for not loving them.

By Ken Barnes. 1976-1977