THE DAVE CLARK FIVE [1982]

Text by Joe Tortelli, 1982

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2018

Images from the Internet

Photos can be enlarged by clicking on them

This article was published in FFanzeen, issue #9, dated 1982, beginning on page 5. It was written by the Boston-area music historian Joe Tortelli. This was originally reprinted with the permission of Tortelli from his own fanzine, Oh Yeah!, issue No. 1, then and now out of PO Box 370, Arlington, MA 02476, or joeyrome@yahoo.com. Joe has written liner notes for such artists as Delaney & Bonnie and the Fifth Estate, has his own music-related television show called “On Topic,” and is currently writing the biography of songwriter and performer Bobby Hebb (“Sunny”).

My own first memory of the Dave Clark Five was seeing the film Having a Wild Weekend at the Benson Theater, in Brooklyn, NY. At the time, I liked it better than A Hard Day’s Night (I was a bit late to the Beatles’ party). There must have been some kind of promotion, because I remember they handed out some black and white 8 x 10 stills from the film. I gave mine away to someone I was trying to impress (yes, a girl), but it didn’t really get me anywhere. Mind you I was 10 at the time… Anyway, I really liked the music in the film, and still enjoy the DC5’s recordings from that period. They seemed a bit different than the other Mersey Beat sounds to my young mind, and I did manage to catch them, if I could (pun intended) when they appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” – Robert Barry Francos, 2018

Mike Smith * Lenny Davidson * Dave Clark * Denny Payton * Rick Huxley

The Dave Clark Five recorded some of the most explosive singles of the mid-1960s. They were a phenomenally popular band during the British Invasion (1964-1965). Their fame and record sales gradually declined over the following two years, until they finally disappeared completely from the American record charts and our teen consciousness.

The DC5’s reputation was hardly enhanced during the ensuing years. The rock values of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s included such things as instrumental virtuosity, lyrical profundity, and musical experimentation – ideas not exactly prevalent on DC5 recordings. The “serious” (i.e., progressive FM) rock fans quickly dismissed the DC5. The DC5 did create pop music; some of the most exciting pop music the rock’n’roll world has ever heard. Their forte was the two-minute single: forceful, pounding rock’n’roll literally bursting forth from those timid vinyl grooves. Guitars, saxophone, drums, organ, voices: all sounding as one, one sounding as all. This was the Dave Clark Five at their best – all the strength, power, and excitement they could muster, squeezed into simple, yet well-crafted two-minute pop songs.

There were (as the more astute among you may already have guessed) five of them: Dave Clark was the drummer and leader of the band. Dave wrote or co-wrote all the group’s original hits. He was also one of the earliest rock stars to produce his own band’s records. Perhaps because Dave was a drummer, the DC5’s earliest recordings have a stronger, fuller drum sound than many other contemporary recordings (cf., the early Beatle LPs). Clark also directed the band’s business affairs and quickly realized the importance of the American audience and market.

Mike Smith was the lead vocalist and organist, as well as Dave Clark’s most prolific songwriting partner. Smith certainly did not have a great vocal range, but he was a great rock’n’roll singer nonetheless. He could wail and scream if necessary, but most importantly, he fit the songs and the songs fit him.

Denny Payton was a British Invasion anomaly – a saxophone player. Payton’s driving sax energized the group’s up-tempo material; he was the secret ingredient in the DC5 “sound.” Lenny Davidson was probably the least-heard guitarist in the British Invasion. The sax, organ, and drums all took precedence over the guitar on DC5 records, so Davidson was more of a rhythm, than lead, guitarist. Rick Huxley was the band’s fifth member and bass guitarist.

Glad All Over

The Beatles had just appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” for three consecutive weeks (twice live and once on tape). Their records were dominating America’s airwaves as no one’s ever had. Things were happening so quickly it almost seemed ridiculous to ask, “What’s next?” A week later, on the same “really big show,” we found out…

The Dave Clark Five were next. They appeared before America’s teenagers with neatly trimmed Beatle haircuts, matching suits, and black boots with the highest Cuban heels ever seen.

The DC5 exuded an enormous amount of energy on stage. Their music was direct, fast, and powerful. Visually, the audience’s attention was riveted to the roguishly cute organist/vocalist and the very handsome drummer. But the image of the band that still remains most clear and distinct from early 1964 is that one of the boys stamping their pointed black boots to the drum beat of “Bits and Pieces.” It was, one supposes, a calculated gimmick of sorts, but it was, at the same time, a genuine gesture demonstrating the band’s commitment to the primal rock beat. That stagemanship set the DC5 apart and guaranteed that they would be recognized in America.

“Glad All Over” was the DC5’s initial hit single on this side of the Atlantic. It arrived in early ’64, along with the “Ed Sullivan” appearance and a wave of hype about the band, which drove the Beatles from the No. 1 spot on the British charts. “She Loves You” and “I Want to Hold Your Hand” owned the top of the British Singles charts for weeks on end until the DC5 broke the Fab Four’s string with “Glad All Over.” Now the DC5 seemed destined to do the same thing in America.

Of course, this rivalry led to a flurry of press reports about the Beatles and their “new challengers.” Would the upstarts’ Tottenham Sound outstrip the dominant Mersey Beat? Who was better, the Beatles or the Dave Clark Five? These and other questions would be answered rather emphatically in good time, but in 1964, they did appear to be rather important [there were several Beatles vs. the Dave Cark Five teen-type magazines at the time, a wise corporate move to sell copies to the fans of both of the top bands – RBF, 2018].

“Glad All Over” was quickly followed on the charts by the equally pulsating “Bits and Pieces.” Both songs were Dave Clark-Mike Smith collaborations, and both were Top-10 hits simultaneously. They were joined in the upper regions of the American Charts by a powerful DC5 rendition of the Contour’s classing, “Do You Love Me.”

All three singles came from the band’s first American album on Epic Records, entitled Glad All Over. This LP established a pattern which the DC5 would follow rather closely on all subsequent albums. Glad All Over included 11 songs, all of which were rather short (two to three minutes), even by mid-‘60s standards. The emphasis was on the hit singles. While it might be unfair to characterize the rest of the material as filler, it certainly could not match the hits.

This and future DC5 albums included a couple of instrumentals (“Chaquita” and “Time”). There were also a couple of cover songs: the above-mentioned “Do You Love Me” and Maurice Williams’ “Stay.” Finally, there were several non-hit originals which tended to be patterned after the smashes, but simply were not as compelling (“All of the Time,” “I Know You,” “No Time to Lose,” “She’s All Mine”).

Glad All Over proved to be an extremely popular album, eventually going Gold (over 250,000 units). During the Spring of 1964. It was the only new rock LP which could hold its own on the charts against the three big Beatle records (Meet the Beatles, The Beatles Second Album, Introducing the Beatles).

During the ‘60s, bands remained popular by quickly following up their initial success with new material. The Dave Clark Five became quite adept at the follow-up, as they proved to be one of the prolific groups of the mid-‘60s.

“Can’t You See She’s Mine” was the DC5’s fourth hit single. It had the same rockin’ appeal as the first three smashes and became yet another Top-10 record.

Another album was also released. The Dave Clark Five Return contained the latest hit single, six other originals, plus three cover songs (including Link Wray’s “Rumble” and the [Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil] classic, “On Broadway”). This LP was clearly patterned after their initial album. Unlike Glad All Over, however, Return only produced one hit song, not three.

In August of 1964, Epic records issued the DC5’s fifth single of the year, the ballad “Because.” This song was a major change of pace from the band’s previous booming hits, and it indicated a new level of musical sophistication and lyrical sensitivity for the band (just as “And I Love Her” had done for the Beatles a couple of months earlier). “Because” went on to become a massive hit and one of their best-remembered songs.

An album featuring “Because” was also released. American Tour had a front cover seemingly patterned after the Beatles’ Second Album, and a title aimed straight at the teenage American consumer. As the single “Because” indicated, the DC5 appeared to be trying to widen their musical horizon somewhat on this LP (through the dreadful instrumental version of “Blue Monday” was hardly necessary). Ironically, the most memorable LP cut was a “Glad All Over” sound-alike, “Come On Over.”

The DC5 closed out 1964 with two singles, “Everybody Knows” and “Any Way You Want It” (followed by an album containing both hits, Coast to Coast). Having found success with both rockers and a ballad, the boys tried to combine both styles in the song “Everybody Knows.” Unfortunately, the tune did not possess a clear focus because of its changing tempo and because it lacked a memorable lyrical hook. “Everybody Knows” was the DC5’s least popular single to date, but it still broke the Top-15.

The Dave Clark Five finished their first year of pop stardom with a two-and-one-half minute definition of rock’n’roll. “Any Way You Want It” was the band’s most powerful single since “Bits and Pieces.” Propelled by Denny Payton’s driving saxophone and surrounded by the densest production imaginable, “Any Way You Want It” muscled its way onto the playlist of America’s radio stations.

Thus, an incredible year ended for the Dave Clark Five. They began the year as newcomers, challenging the Beatles in England, yet totally unknown in the USA. An appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” made them overnight sensations and the most prominent rivals of the Fab Four in the States. They toured the US extensively and were accorded the same frenzied approval from screaming fans as the Beatles. Their seven hit singles and three best-selling albums demonstrated their wide appeal to teenagers in no uncertain terms. In any normal year, the phenomenal rise of this British band would have been the music story of the year. However, 1964 was not a normal year; it was the year of the Beatles.

The DC5 had to “settle” for No. 2. They easily outdistanced the rest of the First Wave of British Invasion groups: the Searchers, Gerry and the Pacemakers, the Swinging Blue Jeans, Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas, Peter and Gordon, etc. In fact, their only real “rivals,” besides the Beatles, were two American groups who first charted in 1962: those blond, sun-tanned surfers from the West Coast, the Beach Boys, and those falsettoed Philadelphians, the Four Seasons.

The DC5 could say goodbye to 1964 with a good deal of pride and self-satisfaction, but they must have looked forward to 1965 with just a touch of trepidation and uncertainty. After all, their last two singles, while popular, were not as big as their earlier records. Moreover, they were now an “established” act, gazing backwards at newer and trendier stars. And in the ‘60s, there was no shortage of fresh faces.

Two of the hottest new properties emerging in late 1964 had quite different images. There was the “cuter than cute and nicer than nice” Peter Noone, singing with an appealingly exaggerated British accent. His band, Herman’s Hermits, had a hit in late ’64 with “I’m Into Something Good,” and was preparing a major assault on the American record charts with a series of sugar-coated tunes. At the same time, a group of brooding, unkempt Blues enthusiasts had just scored with their first Top-10 smash in the US, “Time is On My Side.” The Rolling Stones, with their carefully cultivated “bad boy” image, were getting ready to give teenagers satisfaction. And what of the Dave Clark Five…

Catch Us If You Can

The DC5 needed a strong single to maintain their enormous popularity in the highly-charged musical atmosphere of 1965. “Come Home,” their first release of the year, proved equal to the task. A sensitive and complex ballad in “Because” tradition, “Come Home” demonstrated the band’s ability to transcend the bounds of basic rock’n’roll. Despite the success of this record, “Come Home” was the final hit ballad of their halcyon period.

The obligatory album followed in the Spring of ’65. Like the other DC5 LPs, Weekend in London contained the hit (“Come Home”), the covers (“Blue Suede Shoes,” “Little Bitty Pretty One”), and the fillers (too many to mention, though one song, “Til the Right One Comes Along,” indicated that the Clark-Smith writing team were familiar with the recent “I’ll Follow the Sun” by another famous duo).

Weekend in London was the last in a series of DC5 albums whose liner notes referred to their ongoing rivalry with the Fab Four. These liner notes ask the intriguing question, “Is the Dave Clark Five the Number One group in the world today?” The answer is predictable, if unrealistic. It is significant to note that this “rivalry,” which once seemed so real, had become little more than record company hype.

The DC5’s second single of ’65 was a cover version of the Chuck Berry chestnut, “Reelin’ and Rockin’.” The Boys gave Berry’s rocker a powerful, straight-ahead interpretation with absolutely frantic Mike Smith vocals. “Reelin’” was the band’s first non-original single in over a year, and it was probably their weakest selling to date.

Yet another remake followed in June, when the DC5 released, “I Like It Like That.” This Chris Kenner original attracted widespread attention and airplay, which translated into another Top-10 hit for our heroes.

In the dead of Summer, the DC5’s long-awaited movie appeared. Originally called Catch Us If You Can, the film was released under the title, Having a Wild Weekend. While the movie didn’t exactly make people forget A Hard Day’s Night or Help!, the soundtrack originals and the song quality was consistently high. This album included a good mixture of rockers, ballads, and mid-tempo tunes, and even the instrumentals were more appealing than usual. The title song, “Don’t Be Taken In,” the atypical “If You Come Back,” and “I Said I Was Sorry” are among the best cuts from the LP.

Remarkably, only one single was taken from the soundtrack, but what a single it was: “Catch Us If You Can” is not as frenzied as some other DC5 classics, but is just as catchy and hook-laden, and even features a surprising harmonica lead. “Catch Us If You Can” was a smash; the band’s biggest hit in a solid year.

The DC5 were in the midst of their hottest streak since early ’64, and their final single of the year was not about to change that. “Over and Over” was a consecutive Top-10 hit, and their only song ever to reach the coveted Number One position on Billboard’s weekly record charts. The arrangement for “Over and Over” seemed to copy that for “Catch Us If You Can” right down to the harmonica interlude, despite the fact that is was yet another cover tune.

Nineteen sixty-five ended for the DC5 with the release of a “throwaway” LP, I Like It Like That. Apparently distributed to belatedly cash in on the Summer success of the title song, this was not one of the group’s stronger efforts. Even the front cover picture appears to be an outtake from the Glad All Over sessions.

Despite the final LP, the Dave Clark Five truly finished the year 1965 with a flourish. Their final single, “Over and Over,” was sitting comfortably at the top of the charts and their popularity was still intact. Despite intense competition from a variety of British bands and from a revitalized American scene (the Byrds, Sonny and Cher, etc.), the DC5 had every right to be pleased with their surge in the Summer and Fall. They must have been somewhat troubled, however, by the fact that three of their last four singles were non-original cover tunes at the time when Dylan, Lennon-McCartney, and Jagger-Richards were gaining more and more attention for their songwriting talents. Also, their last LP of the year, I Like It Like That, could not have looked or sounded very promising beside the Beatles’ Rubber Soul or the Stones’ December Children, two other contemporary albums.

The problem facing the DC5 as 1965 passed was quite simple, yet quite fundamental: rock music was changing, but they were not. While the Beatles, Stones, Beach Boys and others were experimenting with new sounds and techniques, sophisticated arrangements, and varied instrumentation, the Dave Clark Five were sticking with a tried-and-true rock’n’roll formula. The DC5 had achieved what they wanted (pop-rock stardom) and were not interested in changing or “progressing” to please others.

The DC5’s satisfaction with the status quo can, perhaps, be appreciated visually. During a period when pop styles were changing even faster than rock music itself, the DC5 looked the same as always, right down to their “Beatle” boots and haircuts, matching suits, and clean-shaven faces. In an era when other pop stars were breaking the old rules and making up new ones, the DC5 were still playing the game according to the 1964 rule book. By 1966, this just was not good enough.

At the Scene

Since the Dave Clark Five had charted a dozen hit singles in just 24 months, Epic Records decided it was high time for a compilation album. The Dave Clark Five’s Greatest Hits was issued in early 1966 and soon became their biggest selling LP. This “hits” package contained all their singles to date, except “Come Home” and “Reelin’ and Rockin’.” It also sported liner notes by Gloria Stavers of 16 Magazine.

The DC5’s Greatest Hits sums up the band’s major contributions to the mid-‘60s music scene: It includes 10 great songs from the blistering “Bits and Pieces” to the sensitive “Because,” from the uninhibited “Glad All Over” to the enthusiastic “Over and Over.” Typically, the four songs are less than two minutes long, and none is more than three. The DC5’s ability to produce powerful, succinct singles is well-documented in this fine album.

A new single was also released in early ’66. “At the Scene” was an attempt to recapture the energy, beat, and drive of the “Bits and Pieces” era. And it really does succeed as an energetic rocker with mildly “hip” lyrics (“Everyone who is lonely / I’ve got a place for you / Where the music pla-a-ays… / Till way past 2”). The problem, of course, was that the music world had changed since “Bits and Pieces,” and what may once have been a smash, was simply a solid, but unspectacular, hit in ’66.

“Try Too Hard” followed “At the Scene” in the Spring. With its piano and guitar frills and relatively sophisticated arrangement, “Try Too Hard” sounded more contemporary than its forerunner. It did not, however, set the record charts on fire. The B-side of this single was a three-minute drum and harmonica solo accompanied by vocal screams and moans, suggestively titled “All Night Long.” It may not have been the last word in avant-garde music, but it certainly was not standard DC5 fare either.

Two more singles were issued in the Summer of 1966. Neither the moderately paced rocker, “Look Before You Leap,” nor the ballad “Satisfied,” is noteworthy because it was the first ballad to be released as a single since “Come Home” in early ’65.

Two uninteresting albums were produced during this period. Try Too Hard contained the title hit plus nine other new, but uninspired, originals. Satisfied With You included “Look Before You Leap,” the title song, more originals, and a superfluous version of the Rascals’ “Good Lovin’.” These two LPs indicated that the DC5 had finally ended the habit of placing instrumentals and golden oldies on each album. Following the lead of the Beatles and Stones, the DC5 were increasingly relying on their own writing skills. Unfortunately, the DC5’s songwriting abilities did not match those of their more respected countrymen.

Dave Clark continued to co-write all the group’s original material. Mike Smith was playing less of a role in the musical collaborations, while Lenny Davidson and Denny Payton were becoming more important. None of the various writing teams tried to guide the band in a new direction so this condemned the DC5 to apparent mediocrity in a year of great musical change and experimentation.

The Dave Clark Five’s second “greatest hits” compilation in less than a year emerged as 1966 came to a close. More Greatest Hits contained  two more hits from early ’65 (“Come Home” and “Reelin’ and Rockin’”), as well as four more recent singles (“At the Scene,” “Try Too Hard,” “Satisfied With You,” and “Look Before You Leap”). The quality of this LP could not compare with that of their first “hits” set, and its sales slipped likewise.

By this time, the Dave Clark Five had clearly fallen from the front lines of contemporary rock’n’roll, both creatively and commercially. While they still managed to tour and make television appearances (they appeared on “Ed Sullivan” quite often), their record sales were declining sharply. In a year which witnessed the release of such seminal albums as the Beatles’ Revolver, the Rolling Stones’ Aftermath, and the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, DC5 fans had to be content with Try Too Hard and Satisfied With You. Unquestionably, 1966 was a disappointing year for the Dave Clark Five.

At the turn of the year, a new single, “Nineteen Days,” was issued. Neither this rocking single, nor the follow-up LP, 5 X 5, managed to restore the band’s sagging popularity.

You Got What It Takes

Finally, in early 1967, a Dave Clark-Lenny Davidson composition revived the group’s fortunes. “I’ve Got to Have a Reason” had a bit of a “Catch Us If You Can” sound and a catchy chorus. While not exactly a chart-topper, “I’ve Got to…” was the band’s best effort in close to a year.

Then, in the spring of ’67, the DC5 struck pay dirt. “You Got What It Takes” had been a sizable rhythm and blues hit in 1960 for Marv Johnson, an early Berry Gordy discovery. The DC5 remake featured surging horn lines and an effusive Mike Smith vocal. The upfront horn section represented a new direction for the band, while Smith’s vocal was one of his best ever. “You Got What it Takes” gave the DC5’s popularity and record sales a much-needed boost. The vital question fans asked was whether this was a fluke single or an overall resurgence for the band.

The next album was titled, cleverly enough, You Got What it Takes. This proved to be their most convincing 12-incher since the Having a Wild Weekend soundtrack. The new LP included the title song, “I’ve Got to Have a Reason,” and some strong new originals (“Play with Me,” “Dr. Rhythm”). “Tabatha Twitchit” was not a DC5 composition, but their version of the turn was pure contemporary pop. Unfortunately, it was not released as a single in the States.

“You Got What it Takes” did not usher in a new era of chart supremacy for the DC5, though they did manage to score again. Digging back even further into musical antiquity, the group released a single version of “You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby” the Summer of Love. “Baby…” was a “big” production number with plenty of horns, a brassy lead vocal by Mike Smith, and just a touch of “Winchester Cathedral”-style nostalgia. The flip side of the single, “Man in the Pin Stripe Suit,” is a delightful, Beatle-influenced composition, which features fairly adventurous (for the DC5, anyway) instrumentation (harpsichord) and production.

The final DC5 single to chart in the USA was issued in late ’67; it was called “Everybody Knows.” For trivia buffs, it should be noted that this made the DC5 the only rock act to ever chart with two different songs, each of which possessed the same title. The DC5 closed out their album-making careers with one final American LP, also called Everybody Knows.

Thus, as the year 1967 ended, so did a remarkable chapter in the history of rock’n’roll music. Like 1964, 1967 was a watershed year in rock history. The artists who dominated the mid-‘60s were supplanted by new acts (Cream, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix Experience, the Jefferson Airplane) with a more serious message and a heavier, more contemporary sound.

The Dave Clark Five, evidently, accepted their fate philosophically: the band returned to England, where they continued to record both as the DC5 and Dave Clark and Friends. And though some of these were released in America, none found any real success.

Epic Records did issue two more DC5 albums. The first was a double album of old material called, simply, The Dave Cark Five. Oddly, it contained only a few of the band’s hit singles. The second was released in the Spring of 1975 and titled, appropriately, Glad All Over Again / The Dave Clark Five’s Greatest Hits. This two-record set captures all the exuberance and excitement of the DC5 at their single-making best. It contains all their biggest, most memorable songs (“Glad All Over,” “Bits and Pieces,” “Because,” “Catch Us if You Can,” “You Got What it Takes”), a few obscure gems (“Good Time Woman,” “Forget,” “Here Comes Summer”), and thoughtful liner notes by Ken Barnes.

Interest in and appreciation of the Dave Clark Five has grown somewhat in the past couple of years, largely as a result of the emergence of the New Wave scene. And that seems appropriate, for the Dave Clark Five deserve to be remembered fondly by all those who enjoy driving pop and energetic rock’n’roll.

Meet the MONKEES – Part 2

Text by Joe Tortelli, intro by Robert Barry Francos
Article © 1985; RBF intro © 2011 by FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

The following Monkees retrospective was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #13, in 1985. It was researched and written by Boston-based rock’n’roll historian Joe Tortelli. For more info on Joe, please see the first part of this article.

A year after this second part of the article came out, I saw a version of the Monkees (sans Mike) play at the Jones Beach Playhouse in 1986. It was a fun, and high-scripted show, where even the ad-libs were pre-prepared. It was a good show and a solid crowd; the group had a bit of a revival, in part due to a new album, song, and MTV video, all titled That Was Then, This is Now” (the song was written by a member of the Long Island post-garage group, The Mosquitoes).
However, I had seen Peter Tork play his first New York solo show after his breakup from the band in 1977, where he played two sets at CBGBs, including a classical piece on piano (John Cale would later claim to be the first to play classical at the club, but Tork beat him to it).

In 1998, I saw Davy Jones perform as part of a Teen Idol Tour at the Westbury Music Fair, sharing a bill with Bobby Sherman and Peter Noone. While Sherman and Noone were gracious, Jones was vile and bitter, including graphic homophobic comments made towards his gig-mates. The woman next to me, who told me she was so excited to see her teen pin-up after all these years, started crying at one point and said to me, “Why is he being so mean?

The same year this second part came out, I even had the opportunity to briefly meet Tommy Boyce at the apartment of Nancy Foster, who was interviewing him for FFanzeen – RBF, 2012.

Monkeesmania lingered into early 1968. The quartet’s initial release of the year, “Valleri” b/w “Tapioca Tundra,” rested at the third position on the surveys. It was destined to be the group’s last million selling Top Ten single.

A steady rock’n’roll beat drives the smash “Valleri.” Davy’s solid vocal, upbeat horn lines and session man Louie Shelton’s flamingo guitar decorate this Boyce-Hart tune. “Tapioca Tundra” reveals Mike’s versatility as a singer and songwriter. Hi vocal suggests Rudy Vallee and the Roaring ‘Twenties, but the tempo is pure ‘sixties rock. “Tapioca Tundra” received a tad of airplay and went to No. 34 on the charts.

The Monkees’ final gold album surfaced in April 1968. Mike, Peter, Micky and Davy produced The Birds, the Bees and the Monkees (excluding “Daydream Believer,” a Chip Douglas production). Reflecting the band’s declining popularity, this Monkees album attracted little AM radio exposure and failed to reach the top of the LP charts.

The album includes five David Jones (as the maturing Britisher now billed himself) vocals. David handles the pop numbers, “We Were Made For Each Other,” “Dream World,” and his own composition, “The Poster.” He also sings “Valleri” and “Daydream Believer.”
Micky is heard on a couple of typical, mid-temp Monkees ditties, “I’ll Be Back Upon My Feet,” and Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart’s take-off on personal ads, “PO Box 9847.” The drummer also performs credibly on “Zor and Zam,” a clever anti-war ballad, and Mike Nesmith’s mildly psychedelic “Auntie’s Municipal Court.”
With a vocal style reminiscent of “Tapioca Tundra,” Nesmith simulates the old gramophone sound on “Magnolia Sims.” Nesmith’s most progressive composition, “Writing Wrongs,” consists of five minutes of avant-garde meanderings on voice and keyboards.

The Birds, the Bees and the Monkees effectively ended a year and a half of Monkee-inspired hysteria. The television series was given its pink slip by NBC in the Spring of ’68. Denied this constant exposure, the group lost its access to mass audiences. The Monkees’ final gold record had already been awarded: their last Top-Tenner had already charted.

In slightly over a year and a half, the Monkees achieved a level of popularity matched only by Elvis and the Beatles over a similar period of time. Like their two predecessors, the Monkees popularity was global. The series was televised in 39 nations around the world. The foursome attracted screaming fans to concerts in Britain, Japan and Australia, as well as the United States. Their international record sales are said to have exceeded 35 million units.

On the negative side, the Monkees were the first act to generate antipathy – not from parents, but from some rock fans. They were unmercifully criticized for their musical shortcomings and their dependence on outside songwriters. Kids into acid rock, psychedelia and progressive music complained that the Monkees were empty pop stars singing worthless bubblegum tunes. These young critics dug the Doors, Cream, the Jefferson Airplane and most of all, Jimi Hendrix.

Ironically, Micky and Peter spotted Hendrix at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival, before he became a sensation. They insisted that the Jimi Hendrix Experience fill the second spot on a Monkees tour that year. Hendrix’s big break turned into an embarrassing bust for his world-be mentors. The black guitarist’s onstage activities outraged the parents of young Monkees enthusiasts. The Jimi Hendrix Experience was quickly forced off the Monkees tour. The episode reinforced Jimi’s hip image, but left the Monkees looking squarer than ever.

Meanwhile, Mike Nesmith’s often overlooked songwriting talent was attracting the attention of other recording acts. A band called the Stone Poneys nearly cracked the Top 10 in early 1968 with Nesmith’s “Different Drum.” The group, which at times was billed as a supporting act at Monkees concerts, also recorded Nesmith’s “Some of Shelley’s Blues.”

The young, attractive lead vocalist of the Stone Poneys gained a foothold in the recording industry with “Different Drum.” Superstardom awaited her in the mid-‘70s, but Linda Ronstadt’s signature song through the early, lean years of her career was this Mike Nesmith composition.
While Nesmith was placing songs with other artists, writing for the Monkees continued to be something of a cottage industry for professional composers. Turning Nesmith’s journey from pop star to songwriter inside out, the composing team of Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart tried their luck as a vocal duo.

Tommy Boyce actually placed “I Remember Carol” in the lower third of the Hot 100 in 1962. Prior to the Monkees, Boyce and Hart composed for other acts. Jay and the Americans took “Come a Little Bit Closer” all the way to No. 3 on the charts in 1964.

As a result of their unparalleled success with the Monkees, record labels vied for the talents of these two reflex hitmakers. Boyce and Hart signed with Herb Alberts’ A&M Records label and scraped the Top-40 during the summer of ’67 with “Out and About.” The duo struck their biggest seller, “I Wonder What She’s Doing Tonight” in the first quarter of ’68. With its bright melody and good-natured lyrics, “I Wonder…” bounced up the charts and into the Top-10. “Alice Long,” a similar sounding upbeat follow-up, skirted the Top-Thirty a few months later. [They would also make an appearance on Bewitched as themselves singing “Blow Me a Kiss in the Wind,” and provide the excellent and bouncy title song for the film Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows - RBF / 2012.]

A May 1968 release inaugurated the Monkees’ post-mania period. Davy Jones’ “It’s Nice to Be with You” backed the pleasant, but insignificant “D.W. Washburn.” The feeble sales of this record indicated that the era of automatic million sellers and Top-10 hits was over. The Monkees’ first non-gold record peaked at No. 19.

[The Monkees concluded a disappointing 1968 with a Gerry Goffin-Carole King composition, “Porpoise Song,” delivered a wonderful glimpse into psychedelic pop. Micky and Davy fronted the dirge-like tune with its musical and lyrical Beatle influences (Porpoise = Walrus – get it?).

Unfortunately, the youngsters wanted more yummy pop songs, while the skeptics refused to even listen. “Porpoise Song” didn’t crack the Top-40.

If the Monkees no longer appealed to small screen audiences, perhaps they could find a new life on the big screen. So Bob Rafelson hoped, when he brought the boys to the movies. (Rafelson would go on to acclaim for his work on Five Easy Pieces, but he made his directorial debut in this Monkees film.)

The surrealistic film featuring those fading pop idols was titled Head. The eclectic cast included movie star Victor Mature, beach queen Annette Funicello, and footballer Ray Ninschke. The reigning king of the underground, Frank Zappa, also had a bit part.

Neither Zappa’s appearance nor the druggish connotations of the movie’s title attracted hip viewers to this underrated slice of psychedelica. And teeny-boppers, who no longer purchased Monkees records, did not suddenly materialize at the box offices.

Like the movie, the soundtrack album bombed commercially. Head was an interesting step for the band musically, but the teen audience ignored it.

Peter Tork made his greatest contribution to a Monkees LP on Head. He wrote and produced two cuts, “Can You Dig It” and “Do I Have to Do This All Over Again.” The soundtrack also contained the semi-hit “Porpoise Song.” Mike Nesmith’s “Circle Sky” appeared as a studio track on vinyl, though it was recorded “live” for the film.

Though the Monkees now controlled their own music, Peter Tork announced his decision to leave the band. Tork was always irritated by the yoke which management placed on the group. He realized that his contribution to the Monkees’ first two albums was virtually nil. Ironically, he asserted himself most on Head, his final vinyl venture with the band. His overall unhappiness with what the Monkees seemed to represent simply grew too great.

Before he left the group, Peter taped one last television extravaganza with his mates. 33-1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee starred the boys, along with rock veterans Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, and Little Richard. Brian Augur and the Trinity were added to lure the progressive audience [as was Julie Driscoll, who had a few hits at the time in England – RBF / 2012]. Though an interesting send-off to their video career, this 1969 program did nothing to revitalize the Monkees’ sagging popularity.

The three remaining Monkees pulled their first Torkless release from a one-year-old Boyce and Hart album. “Tear Drop City” recaptured the infectious “Last Train to Clarksville” formula – Micky’s confident vocal, familiar guitar riffs, and reliable songwriting a la Boyce and Hart. It failed to recreate “Clarksville’s” chart luster. “Tear Drop City” climbed only half way up the Hot-100 in February 1969.

The album which followed continued the downward trend. Instant Replay was comprised of the usual Boyce-Hart and Goffin-King tunes in addition to a few Monkees originals. Radio airplay was practically non-existent. Record sales slipped even more.

Realizing that the group was becoming a commercial basket case, Colgems Records issued the Monkees’ Greatest Hits the biggest hit singles and a few choice LP cuts were squeezed on this fourteen-song compilation.

The threesome nearly tasted success one last time in the last spring of ’69. The hit song was expected to be “Someday Man,” a syrupy Paul Williams tune sung by Davy.

Mike Nesmith’s “Listen to the Band” filled the record’s flip side. Driving, orchestrated music accompanied Mike’s sterling vocal performance. “Listen” muscled its way onto many AM stations’ playlists, and even confirmed Monkees haters nodded approvingly. The song earned the Monkees not another gold record award, but respect.

Finally, the Monkees had redeemed themselves artistically. Mike and ex-Monkee Peter always yearned for acceptance on musical terms. They disliked the hype and hysteria as much as their severest critics. Freed of the mania and freed from managerial constraints, the Monkees produced a gem of a song nearly three years after their first smash. They triumphed in a small way with a minor hit that was a pop masterpiece.

Mike Nesmith’s concluding Monkees album, Present, attracted little notice and fewer sales in the fall of ’69. The banjo picking on Mike’s “Good Clean Fun” unmistakably indicated the countrified direction of his coming solo career.

That neglected album coincided with the Monkees’ last live appearances. Concerts no longer attracted screaming, sell-out crowds. Television still occasionally welcomed the lads back home. On one evening the threesome guest stared on The Johnny Cash Show. Mike, Micky and Davy sang something called “Everybody Loves a Nut” with The Man in Black.

When the Monkees found themselves cutting television commercials for Kool-Aid, it could hardly have been the proudest moment of their career. They must have felt a tad more irritated when they checked out the latest music surveys. While their records were lucky to sneak into the charts, their former “music supervisor” was once again riding high: Don Kirshner’s cartoon character studio group, the Archies, nestled at Number One in September ’69 with “Sugar Sugar.” The contrast between Kirshner’s renewed gold-plated success and the Monkees dismal commercial failures could not have been greater.

The two actors, Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones, limped along after as the Monkees after Mike Nesmith departed. With producer Jeff Barry at the helm, they recorded the album Changes. The single from this inoffensive pop record, “Oh My, My,” crawled to No. 98 on the Top-100.

That final, totally ignored Monkees album was released in May 1970. Another band issued its last LP that same month and year. Only three years earlier, the Monkees had been favorably compared to this British act. In a cruel but appropriate twist of fate, these two bands concluded their public careers simultaneously.

The Beatles ended as they had begun – with a Number One album (Let It Be), artistic integrity, and immeasurable popular appeal. The revelation of the Beatles’ breakup was a major international news story.

The Monkees (or, what was left of the Monkees) disintegrated in the face of mass indifference.

* * *

Mike Nesmith pursed outside project before leaving the Monkees. Besides writing for other artists, he recorded an instrumental album, The Wichita Train Whistle Sings. Recorded in 1968 for Dot Records, Wichita featured country interpretations of Nesmith’s Monkees compositions.

Mike signed with RCA Records after leaving the Monkees. The RCA financial empire actually controlled the NBC network (which broadcast The Monkees series) and the Colgems label (the Monkees’ record company).

The former Monkee produced a string of respectable country rock albums during the early ‘70s. Critics finally accorded this multi-talented artist proper recognition.

Nesmith’s initial post-Monkees congregation, the First National Band, scored a couple of popular successes, “Joanne” nudged the Top-20 in the summer of 1970. A few months later, “Silver Moon” touched the Top-40.

Mike’s abortive attempt to form his own record label ended in disappointment. His deal with Elektra Records to record West Coast country acts collapsed after two releases. Unimpressed with the sales potential of the Countryside subsidiary, David Geffen dropped it when he assumed the presidency of Elektra.

After forming and then disbanding the Second National Band, the ex-pop idol went under the name (surprise!) Michael Nesmith. Following his departure from RCA, Nesmith helped develop the Pacific Arts Corporation. The 1975 album and books set, The Prison, was his earliest effort for this new label.

His second Pacific Arts LP, From a Radio Engine to the Photon Wing, included “Rio,” a Top-Ten single in Australia on Island Records. The 1977 release also received attention in Britain, though it failed to attract American interest.

The guitarist’s most recent album, Infinite Rider on the Big Dogma, was issued in June 1979. Billboard magazine called the record, “Nesmith’s return to mainstream rock’n’roll.” Despite a major publicity push from Pacific Arts, neither the LP nor its single, “Magic (The Night is Magic),” reaped meaningful sales.

During the late ‘70s, Nesmith displayed a revitalized interest in the use of video as a musical medium. He was among the first in the rock world to appreciate this link. [His hour-long video, Elephant Parts, was the first video ever to win an Emmy – ed/1985.]

Nesmith has also involved himself in filmmaking. His name appears as producer in the 1982 futuristic western, Timerider .

* * *

Micky Dolenz dabbled in both television and music, following the Monkees’ breakup. His TV appearances included guest roles on Adam-12 and Owen Marshall.  He also worked on children’s programs and television commercials. He traveled to England at the close of the ‘70s to develop an animated series. During an interview at that time, Micky said that he viewed his years with the Monkees as another step in his long career as a professional entertainer.

As to prove his own point, Micky’s solo musical output has been singularly unimpressive. The man who sang lead on so many exhilarating Monkees tunes has been unable or unwilling to channel that talent on his own. A handful of Dolenz singles have reached the market” “Daybreak,” a 1973 release on the Romar label, caused a minor stir because it was composed and produced by Harry Nilsson.

* * *

While the individual Monkees pursed inconsistent solo careers, their televisions series was syndicated to many American and international broadcast outlets. Repeats of the program resuscitated the memory of the band and earned the foursome new fans. In Japan, this resulted in the rebirth of Monkeemania towards the end of the ‘70s.

Colgems Records had waved goodbye to their Golden Boys in 1970 with the release of a two-disc greatest hits set, A Barrel Full of Monkees. Bell Records secured the rights to the Monkees catalogue after Colgems folded. Hoping to tap into the syndicated television audience, Bell pressed yet another compilation, Re-Focus, in 1972. Record sales were sparse.

Outside of the band itself, songwriters Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart were probably hurt most by the demise of the Monkees. Their ability to pen Monkees million sellers earned them hefty royalty checks. When the record sales and radio spins faded, Boyce and Hart must have felt the pinch.

It was not a total shock when the songwriting team turned up a half of a touring act dubbed “The Great Golden Hits of the Monkees.” Onlookers easily identified the other two performers – Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz.

The repeated showings of the television series achieved concrete results by the mid-‘70s. Young and old fans numbering up to ten or fifteen thousand crowded Midwest fairgrounds to hear their favorite songs. If audiences were disconcerted by the absence of half the original band, they did not show it. Nor did they mind when ‘60s semi-star Keith Allison stepped forward from his perch as guitarist to sing the ‘60s TV theme song, Action.

Dolenz, Jones, Boyce and Hart toured together in 1975 and 1976. At one memorable July 1976 concert in Disneyland, a fair-haired, bearded fellow appeared with the group. For the firs time since 1969, three members of the Monkees were playing together. On that day, Peter Tork performed with his former comrades, Davy and Micky.

The reception accorded their live performance encouraged the four neo-Monkees to land a recording contract. A major record company, Capitol, signed the act. Because of legal impediments (not unlike the Lone Ranger mask hassle), the name “Monkees” could not be used. Instead, they recorded as Dolenz, Jones, Boyce and Hart. One self-title LP was produced.

That album neither recaptured the magical Monkees sound nor rekindled interest in that dormant pop phenomenon.

It was May 1976. Nearly a decade had passed since the Monkees’ first hit. Rock’n’roll had changed. Memories of the fast paced Monkees era had dimmed.

The Monkees phenomenon was a product of its time. It was an essential part of the ‘60s. It could not be re-created or relived. It was over.

For more recent (since 1985, anyway) developments with the band and it’s members, check Wikipedia, as they are more thorough as I could ever be without just repeating the information. – RBF / 2012.

Meet the MONKEES – Part 1

Text by Joe Tortelli, intro by Robert Barry Francos
Article © 1984; RBF intro © 2012 by FFanzeen
Images from the Internet, and can be made larger by clicking on them 

The following Monkees retrospective was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #12, in 1984. It was researched and written by Boston-based rock’n’roll historian Joe Tortelli. He had his own fantastic fanzine at the time called Oh Yeah!, and is currently involved in a book project that will hopefully see the light of day.

It took until the 1970s for me to appreciate the Monkees. Sure, I had a friend or two who were gaga over them, but even in my youth, I had an aversion to “the popular.” Nascent punk in me, I guess. There were a couple of tunes that I liked, though, like “Valleri” and “You Just May Be the One,” but it was actually after hearing Monkeeshines 2 that I really began to appreciate them, for some reason. I do have to admit thought that I’ve been a fan of songs like “Joanne” and “The Crippled Lion” for a long time (though I thought “Rio” was overrated).

However, the Monkees are a lesson that many need to learn. For example, I read recently that Justin Bieber expects to be around for a very long time. Uh-hunh, yeah, okay. Whatever I think of the Bieb is beside the point. Expecting a career, no matter how big, to last forever doesn’t always happen. Ask David Cassidy, or the Bay City Rollers, or Tiffany, or any of the others who had massive crowds lining up, only to have them fade into dust. If you read any of those names and said, “who?”, well you’ve proven my point. Even when the Beatles were in New York, I believe it was, Ringo commented that he hoped the group lasted long enough that he’d make enough to by a hairdresser shop.

But the Monkees had more than their moment, they actually achieved something that lasted, if not their careers. And, yes, I did wear a blue, double-breasted shirt for a while in the ‘60s. – RBF, 2012

The advertisement in the September 8, 1965 issue of the Hollywood Reporter asked for four “insane 17 to 21 year old boys” to act in a television series about a rock’n’roll band.

Over 400 hopefuls did apply. A sandy-haired young fellow named Stephen Stills was among them. Though passed over himself, Stills told his near look-alike acquaintance, Peter Tork, about the audition. Tork and three other young men, David Jones, Micky Dolenz and Mike Nesmith, were selected for the parts.

And so was born the rock group known as … the Monkees!

The Monkees became one of the three genuine phenomena in rock’n’roll history. The first two, Elvis and the Beatles, have long since taken their positions at the peak of rock music’s pantheon. The Monkees’ legacy has fared far less well. Indeed, there was a long period of time during which the Monkees were relegated to the musical garbage heap.

Today, it is difficult to realize exactly how popular the Monkees were at one time. For 18 months after Labor Day 1966, the Monkees came closer than any other acts in rock history to matching Elvis’ popularity in 1956, and the Beatles’ magic of 1964. Like their forerunners, the Monkees generated the hysterical crowds, the gold singles, the Number One albums, the radio airplay, and the widespread public attention. The Monkees had all this in addition to a weekly television series.

The Beatles and Elvis each received a limited amount of video exposure during their heydays. There is no doubting the fact that their televised appearances, especially on The Ed Sullivan Show, increased their popularity immensely. Television made them real, identifiable pop stars.

Another hitmaker, Ricky Nelson, benefitted immeasurably from weekly appearances on this parent’s television program, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. The youngster was able to parlay his TV exposure into rock stardom. Other teen dreams who gained fleeting pop success due to their regular television roles included Johnny Crawford  (The Rifleman), Edd “Kookie” Byrnes (77 Sunset Strip), and Patty Duke (The Patty Duke Show). Few in the music industry questioned television’s ability to make instant pop sensations. [I would add Shelley Fabares of The Donna Reed Show – RBF/2012.]

The concept of a television band took this idea one step further. The TV series would provide a means of spreading the band’s music to millions of weekly viewers.

The formula achieved immediate results. The Monkees became the most popular pop group in America. The band members possessed the four most recognizable new faces since the Beatles burst onto the scene. Because of television’s power, every kid in the country knew the Monkees both as a smashing pop unit and individual stars.

* * *

Robert Michael Nesmith was born in Dallas, Texas, in 1942. His mother, a commercial artist, invented the typist’s best friend, Liquid Paper. Nesmith enlisted in the Air Force in 1960, and picked up the guitar two years later. After performing in the San Antonio area, Nesmith traveled to California. There, he played the café circuit and recorded some folk rock songs as Michael Blessings  for Colpix Records.

An anonymous publicity genius dubbed him “Wool Hat” Nesmith (a nickname which mercifully did not widely catch on) because of the head gear he often wore. Tall, slim and witty, Nesmith was quickly recognized as the band’s leader. The singer-guitarist emerged as the most gifted songwriter in the group.

Peter Thorkelson was a few months older than Nesmith. The son of a University of Connecticut economics professor, he studied teaching before joining the Greenwich Village folk scene. After landing the Monkees gig on a tip from Steve Stills [Buffalo Springfield; Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – RBF/2012], Tork switched from guitar to bass to satisfy the demands of the series. Though a sensitive and intelligent individual, Tork was cast in the role of the naïve or dumb Monkee. He displayed a natural comic talent, though he lacks previous screen experience.

The Monkees helped popularize several sixties pop fashions, including the two-inch-wide belt with heavy duty public. Peter added some extra zip to this by always wearing his belt buckle on his left hip. Moe than a few fashion-conscious teens began to copy him.

Born in Los Angeles in 1945, George Michael Dolenz was the son of actor George Dolenz. The younger Dolenz starred in the TV series Circus Boy from 1956 to 1958. With the stage name Micky Braddock, he played Corky, a young orphan traveling with a turn-of-the-century circus. In the ensuring years, he occasionally appeared on television programs, including Route 66 and Peyton Place. Dolenz also recorded some musical tracks and was singer-guitarist for a pop outfit called the Missing Links (under the name Mike Swan).

Dolenz appeared to be filled with non-stop energy. The frenetic, crazy Monkee, he was equally adept at making facial expressions and attempting the entertainment world’s worst James Cagney imitation. He had to learn how to play the drums for the Monkees.

The youngest Monkee, David Thomas Jones, haired from Manchester, England. At 5’3” tall (or small), Jones worked as a teenage jockey in his native land. He pursued an Anglo-American acting career playing the Artful Dodger in the play Oliver and Sam Weller in Pickwick. His television credits included Ben Casey and The Farmer’s Daughter. The well-rounded entertainer even recorded a “teen idol” pop album for Colpix Records in 1965. Though loaded with schmaltzy tunes, the LP, David Jones, did contain Bob Dylan’s “It Ain’t Me Babe.”

With his short stature, good looks and British accent, Davy Jones inherited his role as the cute Monkee. Young girls found him irresistible under his trend-setting Dutch boy cap. Though he did not play an instrument, Jones was cast as a guitarist [though he would soon switch to mostly percussion, like maracas and tambourine – RBF / 2012].

The Monkees television series was conceived by Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider, of RayBert Productions. Rafelson and Schneider originally considered using an existing pop act in the program. The Lovin’ Spoonful and Jan & Dean (prior to Jan’s near-fatal car accident) were thought of before the producers decided to create a new band.

While Rafelson and Schneider were developing the TV series, Don Kirshner was summoned to supervise the music. Kirshner and his partner, Al Nevins, had been powers in the music publishing business for years. In 1963, their company, Screen Gems, had affiliated with Columbia Music to form one of the world’s giant publishing houses.

With his most stunning business achievement within grasp, Kirshner used Screen Gems-Columbia as the repository of all Monkees material. He formed a new record label, Colgems, especially for Monkees products. Predictably, Don Kirshner served as President of Colgem Records.

Kirshner molded the Monkees sound into a pleasing mix of pop and rock. The music found its influences in the British Invasion, particularly in the pre-Revolver Beatles. He commissioned his stable of songwriters to compose catchy, hook-filled tunes. Veteran studio musicians were hired to record most of the instrumental tracks. The four Monkees were the stars fronting this Kirshner-concocted combination.

The Monkees premiered Monday, September 12, 1966, at 7:30 PM [EST], on the NBC network. Clearly inspired by the Beatles films A Hard Day’s Night and Help! (both directly by Richard Lester), the fast-paced 30-minute comedy followed the misadventures of a young rock band. The camera work and editing techniques (quick cuts, distorted focus, fast and slow motion, freeze frames, bizarre inserts) evoked memories of the critically acclaimed Beatles movies. The thin plots suggested that he program’s main purpose was to popularize the band’s music.

The first Monkees record was issued shortly before the series began. A sterling, upbeat pop song, “The Last Train to Clarksville,” featured Micky’s tuneful singing and an unforgettable guitar riff. The song was the first of string of Monkees smashes composed by the team of Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart.

With a mighty boost from its television connection, “Last Train” soared to the Number One spot on the national charts and earned a gold record. If the Monkees were groomed to be the “American Beatles,” then the initial record sales seemed to indicate that history was repeating itself. Indeed, the hit song captured that familiar Beatles sound better than any smash since… well, since the Fab Four’s own “Paperback Writer.”

The Monkees’ eponymous debut album followed their single to the top of the record surveys. Each of that LP’s 12 cuts found an outlet on both radio and television.

Up to this point, only one act’s albums were treated by radio programmers as if they contained a dozen fresh hit singles. As a result, the Beatles sold an unprecedented number of long players, and the teen audience knew nearly all their songs. The Monkees joined the Beatles as the only ‘60s artists who received saturation album airplay on AM radio. Each LP track became an individual smash.

This unique radio and television attention generated massive record sales. The Monkees LP sold more than four million copies, a figure almost identical to the sales of the Beatles’ first LP, Meet the Beatles. Moreover, it held onto the Number One spot for 15 weeks, the most ever for a debut album by a rock act.

“(Theme from) The Monkees” kicked off the album, just as it accompanied the opening and closing credit of the TV series. This bouncy Boyce-Hart composition would have topped the charts on its own, had it been released separately as a single.

Other Boyce-Hart numbers got heavy airplay, too. A generation of school girls yearned for Davy’s affection as he crooned “I Wanna Be Free.” The rocking “Let’s Dance On”  pinched its guitarist riff directly from the Beatles’ version of “Twist and Shout.” “This Just Doesn’t Seem to Be My Day” and “Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Another Day” (a Tommy Boyce-Nick Venet collaboration) reflected contrasting sides of the mid-tempo coin. “Gonna Buy Me a Dog” closed the album in a friendly, light-hearted way.

With its insistent rock’n’roll guitar, “Saturday’s Child” proved to be one of the LP’s heavier tracks. The surprisingly driving number was penned by David Gates, future leader of the soft pop outfit, Bread.
Gerry Goffin and Carole King wrote “Take a Giant Step.” Its lyrics (“Come with me / Leave yesterday behind / And take a giant step / Outside your mind”) left traces of psychedelia, which was mind-sweeping the music world. Goffin teamed with Russ Titleman on “I’ll Be True to You (Yes I Will),”  a ballad custom-tailored to fit Davy Jones.

Music critics did not overlook the fact that Mike Nesmith was the only Monkee who played original material on the album. “Papa Gene’s Blues” reflected the Texan’s enduring love of country music. He co-wrote “Sweet Young Thing” with veterans Gerry Goffin and Carole King. With its steady beat, guitar frills and serious lyrics, “Sweet Young Thing” was the record’s least accessible cut.

The Monkees proved to be an album filled with unbeatable, seamless pop tunes. Micky Dolenz established himself as the group’s foremost vocalist, singing seven songs. By performing credibly on the LP’s two ballads, Davy Jones cemented his role as the music world’s latest heartthrob. Mike Nesmith demonstrated his commitment to developing as a musician and artist. Peter Tork did nothing to avoid being tagged “the quiet Monkee.”

Though not members of the band, Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart deserved special credit for the spectacular success of the first Monkees long player. They wrote over half of the album’s songs, including its three most requested numbers (“Clarksville,” “I Wanna Be Free” and “Theme”). The twosome additionally produced ten of the LP’s twelve tracks (Mike Nesmith produced the remaining pair – his own compositions).

As 1966 approached its inevitable end, the Monkees starred in the country’s most popular teen-oriented television series, topped the album charts, and dominated the radio airwaves. Davy’s Dutch boy cap and the group’s matching double-breasted shirts ignited new fashion trends in the pop world. Monkees bubblegum cards, lunch boxes, magazines and other items hit the market as part of an unprecedented merchandising campaign. The businessmen behind the project decided it was the time for a new product.

With advance sales of over one million, the single “I’m a Believer” / “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone” was released November 26, 1966. The overwhelming response of radio programmers and the rock audience resulting in the fastest selling single since the other quartet’s “I Want to Hold Your Hand” was issued nearly three years earlier. “I’m a Believer” owned the Number One position for seven incredible weeks during December and January, and ultimately sold nearly 10 million copies worldwide.

Composed by the fast-rising New York songwriter and solo artist Neil Diamond, “I’m a Believer” was one of the truly classic pop rockers of the ‘60s. Micky’s vocals combined with Jeff Barry’s sure-handed production gave the Monkees their biggest selling and best remembered song.

While “I’m a Believer” nestled at the top of the charts, “Steppin’ Stone” peaked at a respectable No. 20. Though the Boyce-Hart tune has been recoded by numerous rock acts, the Monkees unleashed the definitive version of this seminal four-chord punk rocker. The uncompromising rock’n’roll attack of guitars, bass organ and drums underscored Micky’s sarcastic interpretation of the biting lyrics: “You’re’ trying to make your mark on society / You’re usin’ all the tricks that you used on me / You’re readin’ all the high fashion magazines / The clothes you’re wearin’, girl / Are causing public scenes.”

The largest advance order ever for a rock album – 1.5 million units – greeted the Monkees’ second album.

 More of the Monkees arrived with the new year. And it was just that – more of the great pop sounds to which listeners had been introduced on the first LP. But it was even more successful.

Only two weeks after its release, More nudged The Monkees out of the top spot of the charts. It proceeded to hold down the Number One position for four entire months. Together, the first two Monkees albums remained at the top of the LP charts for more consecutive weeks than Elvis, the Beatles or any other act of the ‘50s or ‘60s. The Monkees owned that top spot for 31 incredible weeks.

Nor do the comparisons among the rock’n’roll sensations end there. Only two acts during the ‘60s sold over four million copies with each of their first and second albums. The Beatles were one of those groups. The Monkees were the other.

The Monkees’ hold on Top-40 radio was equally impressive during the early months of 1967. While songs from The Monkees still saturated the airways, More of the Monkees reigned supreme. Radio capitulated fully and willingly to the star-making power of its young offspring. Stations competed with each other to play “the most Monkees,” but conceded the teen audience to television each Monday night at 7:30.

More of the Monkees brims with top-notch pop rock. In addition to the monster hits, “I’m a Believer” and “Steppin’ Stone,” Micky sings Boyce and Hart’s tough-sounding “She,” and Mike Nesmith’s most successful composition for the Monkees, “Mary, Mary.” The drummer’s performance on the Goffin-King ballad, “Sometime in the Morning” proves conclusively that his voice was best suited for up-tempo numbers.

Davy Jones handles five album tracks: Neil Diamond’s “Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)” captivates the listener with hits hook-filled simplicity, “When Love Comes Knockin’ (At Your Door),” a Neil Sedaka-Carol Bayer collaboration, and “Hold On Girl” offer pleasing examples of mid-tempo pop. “Laugh” doesn’t quote make it as light comedy or social commentary. “The Day We Fall in Love” is the record's only outright disappointment. This deadly boring ballad does not pick up where “I Wanna Be Free” left off.

Mike Nesmith’s only vocal comes on “The Kind of Girl I Could Love.” Mike wrote the tune with Roger Atkins, a lyricist whose other credits include the Animals’ “It’s My Life.”

Peter Tork makes his singing debut on the oddball ditty, “Your Auntie Grizelda.” The voice is flat, but friendly. The lyrics apparently refer to the generation gap. And the absurd vocal noise-making during the interlude is entirely appropriate. Peter’s voice possesses the same offbeat charm that Ringo’s always showed in Beatles records.

The demand for new Monkee sounds seemed to be nearly limitless in early 1967. Hoping to mine some of that Monkee gold, Challenge Records exhumed an old Micky Dolenz recording. “Don’t Do It”  gave Monkees-hungry fans a raving rocker which pre-dated Micky’s tenure with the band. Though it barely dented the charts, the song did let listeners hear Micky scream, “You do it with everybody you see / Why don’t you do it with me?!”

After the amazing sales totals of “I’m a Believer,” advance orders for the Monkees’ third single topped 1.5 million. Colgems released “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You” b/w “The Girl I Knew Somewhere” in March to satisfy this pent-up demand.

“A Little Bit Me” opens with a guitar rhythm reminiscent of several solo hits by the song’s composer, Neil Diamond. Unfortunately, Davy’s voice lacks the punch which the Dolenz treatment might have provided. “A Little Bit Me” did not drive to the top of the surveys like its predecessors. It crested at the runner-up position instead.

The B-side of the seven-incher, Mike Nesmith’s “The Girl I Knew Somewhere,” was accorded frequent radio spins. This marvelous song featured Micky’s estimable singing and Peter’s harpsichord playing. This was the first instrumental track on which Peter actually played.

Avid fans found another source of new Monkees music. Sometimes, songs were aired on the TV program long before they were committed to vinyl. A handful of “television” tunes never showed up on record. And “alternative takes” (i.e., songs which differed from the final recorded version) of Monkees hits occasionally accorded viewers with an unexpected surprise.

Although the Monkees were selling more records in 1967 than any other act, they were also faced with growing criticism. “They are not real musicians. They don’t even play on their own record,” the rumor mill buzzed. “They can’t write songs and probably don’t even really sing. These boys are actors, not rockers,” complained others.

This put enormous pressure on the four Monkees. Michael and Peter, especially, considered themselves musicians. They resented the perception that they were manipulated by agents, managers and businessmen. They intended to prove that the band was real.

The Monkees hit the concert trail during the year. Monkees performances generated the same kind of frenzied response which had greeted the Beatles before they quit the road. The screams and crowd noise covered the music, making it impossible for skeptics to assess the band’s skills. Creative lighting and visuals enhanced the excitement of live appearances, while revealing little about the group’s musicianship. One memorable Monkees television program documented a knockout concert, but even this did not silence the critics.

The Monkees’ predicament was not at all relived when the Beatles reclaimed their rock’n’roll kingdom in June of 1967. During the months of late ’66 and early ’67, the Monkees had reined supreme, unchallenged by their role models. The Fab Four issued only one single, “Penny Lane” b/w “Strawberry Fields Forever,” during these nine months of unremitting Monkeemania. Had the Beadles abdicated their throne to this new foursome?

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band not only demolished the young pretender’s claim, it unalterably changed the face of rock music. Just as they had done in 1964, the Beatles rolled over the vestiges of the past and recreated the future.

Suddenly, rock music achieved a new level of significance. It was no longer simply “pop.” It was “pop-art” or just “art.”

The music became complex and varied. The choice of instrumentation expanded wildly. The lyrics grew profound and meaningful. The music wasn’t for kids anymore. It was for college students and some of their hip professors. It was for political activists who could interpret the revolutionary designs of the most abstruse lyrics. It was for those who understood and appreciated music. And, of course, it was for drug experimenters.

This was 1967. The Summer of Love. Tune In, Turn On, Drop Out. Timothy Leary. San Francisco. Peace. LSD. Grateful Dead. Love. Love In. Luv. Sitars. The Airplane. Haight-Asbury. Avalon. Raga. Doors. Fillmore. Marijuana. Mary Jane.

The mid-1967 Monkees were thrust into this apparently alien and hostile environment. But there was another side, too. The rock scene still embodied a fairly unified generation of fans at this time. The same AM radio stations which played the Doors, the Jefferson Airplane and Sgt. Pepper’s, were inundated with Monkees music Nineteen-sixty-seven was also a big year for the Turtles, the Cowsills, Herman’s Hermits, and Tommy James and the Shonells. And the Monkees were still at least the second hottest band in the world.

No one was more responsible for the remarkable popularity of the Monkees than song publisher and Colgems Records president Don Kirshner. He was credited rather immodestly in hand print as “Music Supervisor” of the first and second Monkees albums. The record company executive embarrassed his four young stars by mentioning a litany of songwriters and producers on his liner notes for More of the Monkees. The band faced enough criticism for depending on outside musical support. Their own “musical supervisor” seemed to be magnifying the problem.

Kirshner did not endear himself to the individual Monkees when he insisted that studio musicians play most of the group’s instrumental tracks. His iron-handed control extended to assigning vocal parts to band members. He displayed his insensitivity by flatly refusing to let Mike Nesmith sing “I’m a Believer.”

This arbitrariness properly helped the Monkees commercially, since Kirshner’s ear for pop hits was apparently nearly infallible. But it also irreparably soured personal and professional relations between the “music supervisor” and his band.

Rumors circulated about the four Monkees’ dissatisfaction with the musical direction and public image of their band. Mike Nesmith felt particularly frustrated. A married man and father, he was settled with an unwanted teenybopper personal. A songwriter, producer and guitarist, he was prevented from developing or experimenting musically. The 6’1” Texan actually walked away from the filming of three television episode when his difference with management cut too deeply.

After a bitter confrontation with Don Kirshner in the lobby of a Beverly Hills hotel, Nesmith exposed the festering sore to the press. “We’re being passed off as something we aren’t,” he told the pop world. “The music on our records has nothing to do with us. It’s totally dishonest.” With the full support of his three comrades, Mike fought for control of the Monkees’ future.

A series of bushiness moves within Colgems’ parent corporate structure removed Don Kirshner from his position of power. This breakdown of authority gave Mike, Peter, Micky and Davy the opening which they needed. They became the masters of their own music. And their initial vinyl effort in June 1967 foreshadowed a promising future.

The Monkees’ third LP, Headquarters, was the first full album over which they had significant artistic control. Though it lacked the spar of pure pop which ignited the earlier records, Headquarters possessed a new sense of depth and sincerity. It still stands as the Monkees’ most endearing LP, and their most personal statement.

Mike Nesmith shows his maturing skills as a performer and songwriter. He sings the countryish “Sunny Girlfriend” with unabashed enthusiasm. His understated country guitar licks add an extra dimension to the solid pop rocker, “You Told Me.” With its sensitive lyrics and revealing melody, “You Just May Be the One”  remains Nesmith’s finest composition.

Micky’s first original Monkee song, “Randy Scouse Git,” sounds like a quaint, nostalgic ditty until its mood depends and the music hardens. The song’s threatening lyrics and arrangement probably surprised detractors and fans alike.

Radio stations across America accorded “Randy Scouse Git” saturation airplay. In Britain, the tune reached No. 2 as the single, “Alternate Title.”

Peter Tork also contributed his first composition to Headquarters. “For Pete’s Sake” features a great guitar intro and Micky’s dynamic voice. One of the LP’s hottest cuts, “For Pete’s Sake” replaced the Monkees’ “Theme” by playing over the closing credits of the weekly television series during its second season.

Three Boyce-Hart songs are included on Headquarters. Micky handles the vocals and Mike plays pedal steel guitar on “I’ll Spend My Life With You.” The drummer also sings “Mr. Webster,” a Paul Simon-influenced folk rocker. “I Can’t Get Her Off My Mind” weighs in as the album’s lightweight piece. And Davy’s cute voice hardly invigorates the tune.

The young Britisher offers atonement on the superb folk rock number, “Early Morning Blues and Greens.”He additionally sings, “Forget That Girl,” a Beatles-esque song composed by the album’s producer, Douglas Farthing Hatelid (actually Chip Douglas using an aristocratic pseudonym).

 Not to be outdone, engineer Hank Cicalo landed “No Time” on the album. Micky does his best Little Richard imitation on this non-stop rocker.

The record’s centerpiece, “Shades of Grey,” explores the complexities and ambiguities of modern life. Davy and Peter share the lead vocal on this, the most enduring recording of the Monkees’ career. Their style meld perfectly on the Barry Mann-Cynthia Weil opus. The lyrics are the most sophisticated the group ever attempted: “I remember when the answers were so clear / We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear / It was easy then to tell truth from lies / Sell out from compromise… / Today the is no black or white / Only shades of grey.”

Headquarters represents the Monkees struggle for self-justification. The boys strove to prove that they were a legitimate rock’n’roll act. The liner notes indicate that they understood the criticism confronting them. The words on the back of the album read: “We aren’t the only musicians on this album, but the occasional extra bass or horn player played under our direction, so that this album is ours.”

If the record’s musicianship is hardly earth shaking, it requires no apology either. Most importantly, the album works. The Monkees labored to create an album, instead of a collection of pop songs. They succeeded.

Appropriately enough, no American single was ever pulled from Headquarters.

The album was commercially successful on its own. It hit Number One on the charts but did not sell nearly as many units as its predecessors. Headquarters faced the unenviable task of competing for record sales and recognition with Sgt. Pepper’s, the masterpiece which overshadowed the entire pop world during the summer of ’67.

As the Monkees’ latest lyrics reflect the uncertainties of the world, one of those uncontrollable forces threatened the band’s very existence. A bloody war ranging half a world away underscored the other side of the American Dream. The military draft stole young Americans from the comfort and prosperity of home and tested them in the rice paddies of Vietnam.

Military service had already shot down the promising career of Gary Lewis. With his band, the Playboys, the son of veteran comedian Jerry Lewis had produced six Top-Ten smashes before the military killed his momentum. [I once heard Gary commenting that his father refused to intervene on his behalf to get him out of the military, as did Dean Martin with Dino; Gary was bitter and never forgave his father for that, to me seeming to suffer from PTSD – RBF / 2012]

Another rock star, Beach Boy Carl Wilson, decided to fight induction into the service. The youngest Wilson brother embarked upon a long, costly and frustrating legal battle to avoid compensatory enrollment in the armed forces.

Now it was the Monkees’ turn.

The army informed Davy Jones that he must report for a medical examination in the spring or summer of 1967. Though a British citizen, he was eligible for the draft because he lived and worked in the United States.

When asked how they would respond, spokesmen for the NBC network revealed how inadequately they understood the dynamics of the Monkees phenomenon. NBC’s representative suggested that Davy could be “replaced.”

Several million teenage girls breathed a collective sigh of relief when the youngest Monkee was not drafted. NBC executives were spared the embarrassment of search for a “replacement” for the best-loved Monkee.

The television establishment surrendered to the Monkees onslaught on June 4, 1967. The National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences awarded producers Bern Schneider and Bob Rafelson the Emmy for Outstanding Comedy Series: The Monkees. James Frawley earned the Emmy for Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Comedy for The Monkees’ episode entitled “Royal Flush.”

The adults joined teenagers in honoring youth. The pop world conquered the real world. The velocity of the whirlwind which trapped Mike, Peter, Micky and Davy turned up another notch. The generation gap twisted inside out.

The band’s third consecutive gold single burned up the charts in July and August. “Pleasant Valley Sunday,” another can’t-miss Goffin-King tune, lyrically exposes the banality of suburban middle class life. Micky sings lead on both “Pleasant Valley Sunday” and its very successful flipside, “Words.” Peter echoes the drummer’s vocals until the Boyce-Hart smash explores into its rocking chorus. Each song packs a devastating pop punk making this the second best single of the Monkees’ career (“I’m a Believer” b/w “Steppin’ Stone” is, of course, the best).

After a sizzling summer tour of America and Britain, the television series entered its second season and another LP was released. Like its three forerunners, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones, Ltd., shot to the top of the charts and secured a gold record award.

The record was the most developed Monkees album to date. With Chip Douglas producing again, the boys experimented with unorthodox studio techniques. The Monkees aspired to be a little less pleasing and bit more meaningful.

The first cut warns listeners that this is a very different kind of Monkees LP. Mike Nesmith sings “Salesman,” without disguising his Texas twang. The background vocals boarder on the bizarre.

“She Hangs Out” opens on a Jan & Dean-Beach Boys style “Da-Do-Ron-Ron.” Davy’s voice cuts through the cuteness with an extremely uncharacteristic harsh edge. A very punky organ sound underscores the song’s toughness.

Mike returns as vocalist on a pleasant, mid-tempo number, “The Door Into Summer.” The guitarist also singes the strangely worded “Love is Only Sleeping,” the countryish “What Am I Doing Hangin’ ‘Round,” and the sophisticated ballad, “Don’t Call On Me.” The last named is perhaps the most atypical piece the band has ever recorded.

This is Mike Nesmith’s album more than any other. His restrained but effective guitar playing distinguishes itself throughout. For the first time, his voice dominates a Monkees album. This explains the record’s depth, as well as its commercial limitations

Nesmith composed “Daily Nightly,” an amazing psychedelic number which Micky sings Lyrics like “Lost in the scenes of smoke filled dreams / Find question but no answers” conjure hazy visions not readily associated with the Monkees.

Micky is the lead vocalist on only two other album tracks, “Words” and “Pleasant Valley Sunday.” If there is one obvious difference between Pisces and previous Monkees LPs, it is the drummer’s relatively subdued role as lead singer. Dolenz introduces a new hair style on the album cover. His “Beatle” cut is replaced by a teased and curly Afro-influenced coiffure.

Davy sings three numbers in addition to “She Hangs Out.” Harry Nilsson’s “Cuddly Toy” does not rise above teenybopper predictability despite its Beatles affectations and bikey jargon. The middle-of-the-road sounding “Hard to Believe” just isn’t Davy’s song.

The lad’s voice is at its bets on the record’s closer, “Star Collector.” The Moog synthesizer instrumental jam ending this Goffin-King collaboration probably jolted listeners even more than Davy’s spunky vocal.

Though “Star Collector” is timed at three minutes and a half according to the LP jacket, it actually lasts over four minutes. This intentional discrepancy was surely designed to trick AM radio programmers who looked askance at “long” songs.

Piscesis the first album on which musicians other than the Monkees are credited individually. Mike, Peter and Micky play all guitar parts, but producer Chip Douglas plays the bass notes. Two session percussionists complement drummer Dolenz. Noted country picker Doug Dillard sits in with his banjo.

Pisces soared to Number One, but its sales lagged far behind the groups three previous long players. Now that the four Monkees directed their own musical careers, their recordings reflected greater maturity and less accessibility. Young fans were turned off and AM radio aired fewer album tracks.

The Monkees faced a no-win situation. As they began to assert themselves musically, they alienated teenyboppers and Top-40 radio. Yet, nothing they did could entice acid rockers and hipsters to listen. Despite the Monkees’ expanding sound their audience was shrinking.

Something similar was happening to the television program. The hit situation comedy of the ’66-’67 season developed into a sometimes surreal and oftentimes plotless 30-minute video escapade, the inclusion of cult acts like Frank Zappa and Tim Buckley as guest performers hardly widened audience appeal. Casual viewers, the life blood of any primetime network series, began slipping away. The falling ratings disturbed the NBC executives, a group never known to sympathize with low ratings or rock music.

The Monkees entered the year with a smash which reinforced the band’s pop image. Peter Tork’s piano introduces John Stewart’s mid-tempo classic, “Daydream Believer.” Davy’s outstanding vocal coaxes the melody line to its surging sing-along chorus.

Following three consecutive double-sided hit singles, the Monkees gambled on the B-side of “Daydream Believer.” Micky propels the blazing rave up, “Goin’ Down,” through its frenetic pacing.

The two sides of this seven-inch record demonstrate the tension between pop and rock which plagued the Monkees at this time. Of course, the pop side found the commercial success. “Daydream Believer” rested at Number One for the month of December 1967, until it was replaced by the Beatles’ “Hello Goodbye.” “Goin’ Down” did not even crack the charts.

Part Two: to be continued