SUNDAY, MAY 26, 2024 Monkees
The show only lasted two seasons, a total of 58 episodes.
But the castmates quickly grew into the role of actual bandmates while the show enjoyed a second lease on life in syndication with an ‘80s MTV revival expanding its reach to a new generation.
The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s continued snubbing of the Monkees is, of course, beyond ridiculous.
The impact of the show alone should be enough to warrant their induction. And the catalog they left behind is every bit as worthy of the honor, from the first four albums, all of which hit No. 1, through “The Monkees Present,” which gently grazed the album charts in 1969, by which point Peter Tork had left the fold with Michael Nesmith on the verge of following.
The two remaining Monkees, Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz, packed it in after releasing one last album, “Changes,” as a duo.
Assorted gatherings of bandmates would stage reunions through the years. And they enjoyed their highest-charting album since the ‘60s with 2016’s late-career revival “Good Times!,” followed two years later by their final effort, “Christmas Party.”
It’s really quite the legacy, which brings us to this unapologetically subjective countdown of the Monkees’ best songs.
10. ‘I’m a Believer’ (1966)
The biggest-selling U.S. hit of 1967, spending seven weeks at No. 1, this song was destined to remain the Monkees’ biggest hit. As previously noted, it was written by Neil Diamond, who also appears on acoustic guitar, with Jeff Barry producing.
It may be worth noting that Nez is said to have told Barry, “I’m a songwriter, and that’s no hit,” which is among my favorite stories in the history of rock ‘n’ roll. He was reportedly banned from the recording session after that, but it was worth it.
The vocal is Dolenz, who sounds like he was born to sing this song, from the understated sigh of “What’s the use in trying when all you get is pain?” to the full-throated wails going into the fadeout, a flawless performance by one of rock’s best all-time vocalists.
9. ‘Randy Scouse Git’ (1967)
This Dolenz song brings “Headquarters” to an electrifying finish. The verses feature whimsical remembrances of what sounds like a memorable night at the Speakeasy Club in London, where guests include the singer’s future wife (“the being known as Wonder Girl”), the Beatles (“the four kings of EMI”) and Mama Cass (“a girl in yellow dress”).
The tone shifts when the chorus hits as Dolenz switches character (and sides) to rail against the partygoers. “Why don’t you cut your hair?!” he shouts, becoming more unhinged until he wants to know “Why don’t you hate who I hate, kill who I kill to be free?” It ends in both sides singing at the same time, each side unmoved by the other’s point of view.
The title was inspired by an insult hurled by the uptight father on the British TV series “Till Death Do Us Part.”
8. ‘Valleri’ (1968)
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By the time they got to “Valleri,” which topped the Cash Box charts and peaked at No. 3 on Billboard’s Hot 100, the Monkees had proven they were capable of playing their own instruments. But that’s no reason not to call in session players for a song that seems like it could benefit from tagging someone in to do the heavy lifting.
Hence the impossibly fluid flamenco guitar work Louie Shelton brings to “Valleri.” Could they have gotten by without it? Sure. But man, it really elevates the whole recording, which also boasts a stellar brass arrangement.
Here’s how brilliant Boyce and Hart could be: Screen Gems President Don Kirshner asked if they had any “girl’sname” songs and they, of course, responded “Yes,” despite the fact that they did not, improvising the song on the way to the office. What?!! “Valleri” also features one of Jones’ best rock vocals.
7. ‘Pleasant Valley Sunday’ (1967)
This spirited rocker was written by one of the Brill Building’s most celebrated duos – Gerry Goffin and the legendary Carole King, inspired by their new life in the suburbs of New Jersey, with its “charcoal burning everywhere” and “rows of houses that are all the same and no one seems to care.” And you thought “American Beauty” took a dim view of life in the suburbs.
Nesmith contributes the classic guitar riff that makes it feel more like a celebration than a put-down, Tork bangs out a great piano part and Dolenz nails the vocals on a single that builds to a cacophonous conclusion yet remains one of their more contagious pop hits, hitting No. 3 on both Billboard and Cash Box.
6. ‘She’ (1967)
You’d almost have to put this Boyce and Hart song on the short list of the most impassioned vocals Dolenz ever laid to tape, from his wounded delivery of “She told me that she loved me, and like a fool, I believed her from the start” to those tortured pleas as the track begins to fade (“Why am I missing her? I should be kissing her”).
But everything about this brilliantly constructed Boyce and Hart production is essential to the mix. There’s the bentguitar intro that feels like it’s channeling “Wild Thing,” the vocal blend on those harmonies sighing “she” at the top of the verses, the shouts of “Hey!,” the way it rocks with a swagger fit to hold its own against the surliest garage-rock records of the day, the dynamics of a stellar bridge that builds to a transcendent climax.
It all contributes to the magic. There’s a reason they made it the opening track of the second album.
5. ‘The Girl I Knew Somewhere’ (1967)
The B-side of the Monkees’ third consecutive hit single (“A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You”), this Nesmith original was the first Monkees song released to feature all four members playing their own instruments, with Nesmith on guitar, Jones and Dolenz on percussion, and Tork on acoustic guitar and a Kinks-worthy harpsichord solo.
It’s also the first instance of a Monkee placing something he had written on a Monkees single. That’s two major wins before you even put the needle on the record.
But enough about what makes it an important piece of Monkees history. It’s here on the strength of its musical merits, an upbeat folk-pop gem with a suitably wistful lead vocal from Dolenz as he lets his memories of “a girl that I knew somewhere” cloud his judgment of a new relationship while bringing one of Nesmith’s most contagious melodies to life.
4. ‘Daydream Believer’ (1967)
John Stewart of the Kingston Trio wrote the Monkees’ third chart-topping single, which had been rejected by We Five (a folk-rock group featuring Stewart’s own brother) and Spanky and Our Gang by the time he pitched it to Monkees producer Chip Douglas at a Laurel Canyon party. But Douglas heard a single and the Monkees made the song their own.
That whimsical piano part that not only opens the song but shapes the vibe of the entire record? Tork came up with that and plays it on the record, which also features horns and strings arranged by Shorty Rogers, setting up the sugar-coated chorus with a riff whose chart-topping potential had already been tested two years earlier on the Beach Boys classic “Help Me, Rhonda.”
What really brings it all together, though, is Jones, who underscores the sweetness of the lyrics and the melody with a swoon-worthy vocal that adds to the innocuous appeal of their most charming hit, which spent four weeks at No. 1.
3. ‘Last Train to Clarksville’ (1966)
This Beatles-esque rocker was their “Meet the Monkees” moment, a Boyce and Hart original that had already hit the airwaves by the time the show premiered but didn’t blow up until after viewers got to know them better, hitting No. 1 the first week of November, eight weeks after that first episode.
And you can rest assured that any similarity between this record and the Beatles was entirely intentional. It was the debut single by a band assembled for a TV version of “A Hard Day’s Night.” And the Beatles had just topped the Hot 100 with the eerily similar “Paperback Writer” a month before this single was recorded.
It’s what they do with all that inspiration. though, that ultimately matters, going well beyond the flattery of imitation to create one of the year’s best rock songs while telling the tale of a soldier squeezing in some “coffee-flavored kisses” before shipping off to war. As Dolenz tells his sweetheart, “And I don’t know if I’m ever coming home.”
2. ‘The Porpoise Song’ (1968)
This melancholy psychedelic ballad was the theme song to the movie “Head,” composed by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, with Goffin overseeing what Monkees biographer Andrew Sandoval has called “the most elaborate production ever for a Monkees recording.”
It’s a haunting tapestry of sound with organ, cello, double bass, woodwinds, brass and recordings of porpoise sounds underscoring a double-tracked vocal from Dolenz, who’s clearly feeling every reference to the Monkees’ struggle for creative freedom in those lyrics.
In the liner notes to a “handmade” edition of “Head” on Rhino Records, Sandoval quotes Rafelson, the “Monkees” cocreator who co-produced and wrote the movie with Jack Nicholson. “That song was critical to me,’” he says. “‘A face, a voice, an overdub has no choice.’ In other words, the whole synthetic process of making the Monkees’ records was about to be (examined) in the movie.”
You wouldn’t think a track called “Porpoise Song” could break your heart. Unless you’d heard it.
1. ‘(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone’
Paul Revere and the Raiders beat the Monkees to the punch on this Boyce and Hart classic, which appeared on “Midnight Ride” in May 1966, two months before the Monkees hit the studio with Boyce and Hart to try their luck.
The Monkees version is perfection, fueled by Bobby Hart on the Vox Continental organ and a strong contender for the fiercest vocal Dolenz ever managed, sneering lines as bitter as “You’re reading all them high-fashioned magazines/ The clothes you’re wearing, girl, are causing public scenes” in a gritty rasp that’s positively dripping with contempt.
Released as the flip side of “I’m a Believer,” the Monkees’ take on “Steppin’ Stone” hit No. 20 on the Hot 100 to become the most successful version of a song, inspiring countless covers, from the English freakbeat band the Flies to the Sex Pistols and Minor Threat. And yet, no other version approaches the reckless abandon, the garage-rock swagger or the menace of the Monkees’ seminal recording.