With one magic word: SHAZAM!
Although the super-hero boom in comics of the 1940s was undeniably started by the incredible popularity of Superman, and manifested in countless attempts to copy/capture/re-create/steal the Man of Steel’s successful model, Superman wasn’t necessarily the best-selling superdoer in the funny-book business. For a time in the ’40s, Superman was outsold by his biggest rival, the original Captain Marvel.
For those who don’t know this original Captain Marvel, lemme give you the brief. A young, orphaned newsboy named Billy Batson is granted secret, fantastic power by the ancient wizard Shazam; whenever our Billy speaks the wizard’s name, he is magically transformed into the World’s Mightiest Mortal, Captain Marvel. The wizard’s name is itself an anagram of the wonderful abilities Billy can access when he calls on the power of Shazam: The wisdom of Solomon! The strength of Hercules! The courage of Atlas! The power of Zeus! The skill of Achilles! The speed of Mercury! If you are a mad scientist like Dr. Sivana, or an evil tyrant (and literal worm) like Mr. Mind, or just another nogoodnik in The Monster Society Of Evil, get set to get your ass kicked by Captain Marvel!
I’ve been trying to remember when and how I first got hooked on Captain Marvel, who would ultimately become my all-time second favorite comic book hero (after The Batman). As a kid in the ’60s and early ’70s, I had heard of Captain Marvel, even though Cap was long gone by that point. The first Captain Marvel I ever saw was a Marvel Comics character who’d usurped the name from its rightful owner. Even as a stupid kid, I eventually figured out that Mar-Vell of the Kree couldn’t be the same Captain Marvel referenced on TV shows like The Good Guys and The Monkees.
(Digression: one of my many favorite moments on The Monkees was when Peter Tork had been kidnapped and tied to a chair. Left alone, still bound to the chair, our brave Peter shook ‘n’ shimmied his way in front of a mirror, squared his shoulders, and cried out with a defiant, “SHAZAM!” And the mirror shattered, prompting Peter to say, “Well, that’s seven years’ bad luck for Captain Marvel!”)
My first exposure to Cap was second-hand, in the letters page for a Lois Lane Giant. The letter-writer complained of a scene in a previous Giant where Superman fended off a number of super-powered suitors vying for Lois’ fickle affection; one of the defeated suitors, lying dazed on the floor, was Captain Marvel. The fan took issue with this, saying something like, “I know you put Captain Marvel out of business in the ’50s, but there’s no need to gloat over it!” The editor, E. Nelson Bridwell, replied that it was meant in fun; Lois Lane artist Kurt Schaffenberger had previously been one of the main Captain Marvel artists, and had included Cap’s image as a joke. Bridwell further commented something to the effect that Captain Marvel had been one of his own favorites as a young comics fan, and that he’d never wish to be disrespectful toward the World’s Mightiest Mortal.
I dug out that previous Lois Lane Giant, and I found the page and panel in question. There he was. So that was Captain Marvel! And now, I wanted to know more.
Coincidentally–but relevantly–I found a Super-8 movie projector in the attic. On subsequent visits to K-Mart and White-Modell, I saw Super-8 movies for sale, including Super-8 movies starring Charlie Chaplin, Super-8 movies starring Batman…and Super-8 movies starring Captain Marvel! I acquired them all in short order.
Long before the home-entertainment Utopia delivered by Betamax, laser discs, VHS, DVD, Blu-ray, and on-line streaming, 8mm and Super-8 films were short, silent movies made for home consumption. My two Captain Marvel Super-8s were twelve-minute distillations of the first and the final chapters of the 1941 movie serial The Adventures Of Captain Marvel.
The chronology of my Captain Marvel fandom gets a little confusing; so much happened either all at once or in short order, and I have difficulty putting it all together 45 years later. But figure we’re in a rough timeline of 1972 to ’73 or so. I watched my Captain Marvel Super-8s over and over. I read a single page of the first Captain Marvel comic book story, reprinted in Jules Feiffer‘s book The Great Comic Book Heroes (which contained just that one page of Cap, for legal reasons we’ll touch on in a few paragraphs). I was getting well hooked on Captain Marvel, albeit with relatively little to go on.
But two events kicked my Shazam mania into overdrive. In this time frame, it became clear that my teeth were a mess, and that I would need braces. One evening, following an early (and physically uncomfortable) consultation with the orthodontist, my parents decided to treat me to an evening with the Syracuse Cinephile Society. The Syracuse Cinephile Society was a monthly (I think) gathering of film buffs, who would convene upstairs at a downtown bar called The Firebarn to screen vintage films. This was not my first visit to the Syracuse Cinephile Society; my cousin Maryann had already taken me to The Firebarn to see Humphrey Bogart in Dead End, and she also took me to see Errol Flynn in The Adventures Of Robin Hood, though I don’t recall for sure whether that was before or after Mom and Dad took me to see….
…Well, they took me to The Firebarn to see the Syracuse Cinephile Society’s screening of the complete twelve-chapter movie serial, The Adventures Of Captain Marvel. The whole thing! With sound, unlike my silent little Super-8s! Mind you, this was over three and a half hours of serial action, three and a half hours originally intended to be enjoyed over the course of three months in twenty-minute weekly installments, not in a single evening as your butt hurt from sitting and your teeth ached from orthodontic invasion. But it didn’t matter. I was captivated. SHAZAM!
By this time, I probably knew a little bit about what had driven the World’s Mightiest Mortal off the newsstands decades ago. The folks in charge of DC Comics were none too thrilled about the success of Captain Marvel, a character published by Fawcett Comics. DC sued, claiming that Captain Marvel was a copy of Superman, and a violation of DC’s copyright on mighty caped guys who could fly. Fawcett eventually capitulated, and agreed to retire Captain Marvel permanently. Captain Marvel and the rest of The Marvel Family (his sister Mary Marvel and their pal Captain Marvel, Junior) disappeared–seemingly forever–following their final appearance in The Marvel Family # 89, cover-dated January 1954.
One of my favorite comic books in the early ’70s was a reprint title called Wanted: The World’s Most Dangerous Villains, a DC book that usually featured stories from comics’ Golden Age, the ’40s. The fourth issue of Wanted was a particular favorite, with a lead story reprinting the original Green Lantern‘s first encounter with Solomon Grundy, and a back-up of Kid Eternity (another of my faves!) facing his evil opposite number, Master Man. But, for all that, the one thing in this issue that just ’bout made my head explode was this one-page house ad:
Captain Marvel was coming back?! At DC??! Not even world peace or a Beatles reunion could have been more welcome news to me at the time. Well, maybe a Beatles reunion. World peace is nice, too. But I could barely contain my glee at this announcement. Captain Marvel was coming back!
The new comic book was called Shazam! During Captain Marvel’s nearly two-decade absence from newsstands, Marvel Comics had claimed the Captain Marvel name as a trademark, preventing DC from ever using that name as a comic book title. Curses! But I loved the new stories at the time, and I really loved the fact that DC was including a Golden Age Cap reprint in each issue. I figured this was the start of a new Golden Age!
But DC couldn’t quite get a handle on what to do with the World’s Mightiest Mortal. The scripts aimed to be charming, but usually settled for silly instead. Even with a new Saturday morning live-action Shazam! TV series, the character just never really caught on in a big way. Matters weren’t helped by the then-unknown fact that DC hadn’t actually purchased the rights to Captain Marvel; it was merely a licensing deal with Fawcett; that meant there was a limit to how much exposure Cap could get at DC, at least without DC having to pay additional fees that, frankly, wouldn’t have been worth it, given Captain Marvel’s lack of blockbuster sales appeal.
In the decades since, DC did eventually assume full ownership of Captain Marvel, and the character has appeared as a member of the Justice League of America and the Justice Society of America, and on animated TV shows including Justice League Unlimited and Batman: The Brave And The Bold. There is a Shazam! feature film in development, with Dwayne Johnson signed to play one of Captain Marvel’s enemies, the mighty Black Adam. So the World’s Mightiest Mortal lives on.
Unfortunately, DC doesn’t call him Captain Marvel anymore; now, the character is just called Shazam. Marvel Comics owns the original name, and has its own Captain Marvel movie coming, with Brie Larson in the title role. It bugs me a little that the original Captain Marvel can’t use his own name, but that battle was lost a long time ago. I read Marvel’s Captain Marvel comic book regularly, and I’ll see Marvel’s Captain Marvel movie when it’s released. That’s the way it is, and I accept it. I’ll even enjoy it, I betcha.
But, in my heart, I know who the real Captain Marvel is: a little kid with the biggest, best secret in the world; a kid who can move mountains, and fly around the world, and shrug off bullets and bad guys with a smile and a twinkle in his eye; a kid who can shed the troubles and limitations of frail humanity, and become a champion like no other; a kid who can become, at will, the World’s Mightiest Mortal.
It’s a pretty good deal. All it takes is one magic word.
In the novel Glimpses by Lewis Shiner, the protagonist develops the power of time travel, but a very specific sort of time travel: he is able to travel back in rock ‘n’ roll history, and he tries to help artists like The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, and The Doors complete works that were left unfinished in the real-world timeline. Our hero’s crowning achievement is shepherding Brian Wilson through the completion of The Beach Boys’ unrealized 1967 masterpiece Smile; returning back from ’67 to the novel’s present-day setting, the now-completed Smile is released, and is embraced by fans worldwide as an unexpected, enduring source of pure joy and happiness.
Don’t worry: no one’s going to compare Good Times!, the new 50th anniversary reunion album by The Monkees, to the mythical 1967 Smile, nor even to Brian Wilson’s 21st-century version. But the above scenario is pertinent to today’s discussion, for one simple reason: just as Smile caused pop fans in the novel to rejoice, The Monkees’ new album likewise inspires a delighted grin, a smile that grows wider and wider upon repeated listening. Good Times! Never has an album been more aptly named.
It’s a gift we may not have really anticipated.
Many of us know this story by heart: The Monkees were formed in the mid-’60s by neophyte TV producers Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider, who cast singin’ actors Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones alongside singin’ musicians Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork as the titular struggling rock ‘n’ roll combo in a new weekly television series; the series debuted September 12, 1966 on NBC. Music mogul Don Kirshner was brought in to make Monkee music, bringing with him songwriters and session players, and directing the TV show’s four young stars to sing, Monkees, sing! The records sold. And sold. And how! A # 1 single, “Last Train To Clarksville.” A # 1 album, The Monkees. Another # 1 single, “I’m A Believer.” Another # 1 album, More Of The Monkees. Buoyed by success, but chafing under Kirshner’s control, The Monkees sought a more active role in their musical efforts, and were allowed to play on their recordings, and given a (somewhat) larger say in their fortunes. More great and even greater records followed, but the TV show ran its course; after the dismal box office failure of The Monkees’ bitter, brilliant feature film Head, The Monkees’ pop success faded. Tork left. Nesmith left. In 1970, Dolenz and Jones killed the lights on their way out, too. The TV show’s two seasons were rerun again and again, across the course of generations. There was a partial reunion (without Nesmith) in the late ’80s, and all four regrouped in 1996 for a new album, TV special, and a brief UK tour; both reunions ended in a flurry of bickering. Dolenz, Jones, and Tork returned for an acclaimed 2011 tour that embraced The Monkees’ vast recorded legacy as never before. Jones passed away in 2012. To the surprise of…well, everyone, Nesmith rejoined Dolenz and Tork for a fantastic reunion tour in 2012-13. Nesmith eventually withdrew from touring again, leaving Dolenz and Tork as The Last Monkees Standing (and Touring).
This was the state of Monkee affairs when word of a 50th anniversary reunion album leaked in February of 2016. The questions came unbidden: Would Nesmith participate? Hell, would Tork? Would it be a glorified Micky Dolenz solo album? Would it be any damned good at all? And how could these blasphemers presume to do this without the late Davy Jones?!
The answers arrived in a slow-cooked stew of guerilla hype and sly rumors let slip. By the time of its release, we knew that Good Times! would be prepared under the auspices of Monkees superfan Andrew Sandoval and producer Adam Schlesinger (of Fountains Of Wayne and That Thing You Do! fame). The album would be a mix of new recordings–including songs written by each of the surviving Monkees, as well as songwriting submissions from XTC’s Andy Partridge, Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo, Death Cab For Cutie’s Ben Hibbard, and the Britpop Modgasm pairing of Noel Gallagher and Paul Weller–with unfinished (and now finished!) ’60s stuff from the vaults. Micky, Peter, and Michael were involved; Davy would be represented by a remixed 1967 recording, with new backing vocals from Micky and Peter.
This could have been a recipe for a big ol’ mess. Instead, Good Times! has a good shot at being the best pop album of 2016.
Good Times! starts and ends with explicit exhortations of good times to be had and good times to be remembered. The album opens with a title track written by the late Harry Nilsson; the track is actually Nilsson’s 1968 demo of the song, with Nilsson’s 1968 voice dueting with present-day Dolenz, a potentially scary prospect that avoids being ghoulish by just being so much freewheeling fun. You can feel Dolenz’s affection for his departed friend in every loose ‘n’ swingin’ hoot and holler. The album closer, “I Was There (And I’m Told I Had A Good Time),” co-written by Dolenz and Schlesinger (based on Dolenz’s oft-told anecdote of being at a bacchanalia with The Beatles), likewise swaggers with satisfied pride in all the gusto grabbed along the way. It’s not strictly essential, but it’s not a throwaway, either. Perhaps that’s the nature of good times.
And in between those two tracks? Oh Lordy–Good Times! is just magic.
Micky Dolenz–one of the most underrated pop singers of the rock ‘n’ roll era–is given three brand-new pop confections, all made with real sugar, and they’re irresistible. Andy Partridge’s “You Bring The Summer,” Rivers Cuomo’s “She Makes Me Laugh,” and Adam Schlesinger’s “Our Own World” are light and sunshiney in all the right ways, as if More Of The Monkees had been made in 2016, and someone found a way to beam its tracks directly into the radio that plays inside your head. “Radio-ready” is one of this blog’s favorite phrases, describing perfect pop music that is so pure as to be undeniable, the stuff you wish you were listening to right now on a car radio turned up way too loud. Man, pop tunes don’t come any more radio-ready than these. Speaking of More Of The Monkees, Dolenz also gets to sing two songs that date back to that 1967 album: the Jeff Barry/Joey Levine “Gotta Give It Time” is a sturdy garage-pop nugget, its backing track completed in 1967 by the Kirshner hit machine, now with newly-added vocals by Dolenz (and uncredited backing vocals by Nesmith); Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart’s “Whatever’s Right” was also submitted for The Monkees in ’67, but this is an all-new recording (with Hart himself joining in on vocals). At 71, Dolenz can still bend a pop tune to his will like no other can, and all five of these tracks (plus the two “Good Times” celebrations) give him ample opportunity to do so.
Peter Tork was never The Monkees’ key singer, but he acquits himself quite well on his two tracks. The first is “Little Girl,” a song Tork originally wrote as a follow-up to “I Wanna Be Free,” a popular Davy Jones-sung ballad from The Monkees’ eponymous debut in 1966. While Jones never quite got around to recording a version of “Little Girl,” Tork’s all-new rendition is amiable and likable. But Tork’s lead on the Carole King/Gerry Goffin “Wasn’t Born To Follow”–a track begun in the studio in 1968, with added vocal by Tork in 2016–is an understated triumph, one of the best performances that Tork has ever given on record.
Still, it’s Michael Nesmith who ultimately puts Good Times! over the top. His own song “I Know What I Know” is disarming, quietly mesmerizing, uncluttered, and fascinating–yet it’s still somehow the least among the three tracks with Nesmith lead vocals. Ben Gibbard’s “Me & Magdalena,” with harmony and counterpoint vocals from Dolenz, isfull of hope and/or heartbreak–one is never quite sure which–but the song just aches with love’s promise and life’s compromise; regardless of whether the song reflects the heart’s ongoing victory or an imminent, devastating loss, it is unforgettable. The album’s tour de force is the Noel Gallagher/Paul Weller “Birth Of An Accidental Hipster,” where Nesmith’s co-lead vocals are again complemented by Mr. Mick. This track certainly calls to mind Gallagher’s old band Oasis, but it sounds equally like THE Great Lost Monkees track. It would have fit in well on 1968’s The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees album; it would have fit in well on the soundtrack of Head. It’s a freakin’ psychedelic pop masterpiece, and it may be one of the all-time greatest tracks to ever bear The Monkees’ brand name. Make no mistake: if Good Times! had been completed without this track, it would still be a terrific album, maybe a great one; the inclusion of “Birth Of An Accidental Hipster” tosses that “maybe” away, and ensures that yes, Virginia (and Sandra, and Mary, and Valleri, and Fern), The Monkees have indeed made a great album in 2016.
The late Davy Jones is represented on Good Times! by Neil Diamond’s superb pop song “Love To Love,” which was recorded in 1967 but unreleased until the ’80s. Its inclusion here is curious; it’s certainly a wonderful track, one of Jones’ best, but it’s hardly a rarity. Although this is its first appearance on a proper Monkees album, the track has been on compilations and repackages galore. It is slightly remixed for Good Times!, with Davy’s original double-tracked lead vocal stripped to a single track, and with new Micky and Peter backing vocals on the chorus. So yeah, an odd choice. Still, a great song’s a great song. “Love To Love” had a circuitous path to get here, but it’s a nice remix, and none should complain about it finally taking its rightful place on an actual Monkees album.
As a 50th anniversary celebration, Good Times! was specifically designed to include key figures from The Monkees’ history. There are The Monkees themselves, of course (including Davy), plus songwriters Boyce & Hart, King & Goffin, Neil Diamond, Harry Nilsson, and “I’m A Believer” producer Jeff Barry, the late “Fast” Eddie Hoh (drummer on much of The Monkees’ best album, 1967’s Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones, Ltd.), and even Don Kirshner is sorta represented by the 1967 studio musicians performing on “Love To Love” and “Gotta Give It Time.” Notable MIAs would be songwriters Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil (who wrote “Shades Of Gray” and “Love Is Only Sleeping”), and especially Chip Douglas, who produced both of The Monkees’ best ’60s albums, Headquarters and Pisces, and played on them as well. Douglas played an enormous role in The Monkees’ emancipation in ’67, and it would have been a kick to see him involved in here somehow.
Reunion albums are tricky, especially if it’s a reunion of a group you loved a long, long time ago. There have been a handful of interesting reunion records by ’60s groups–The Animals’ 1977 album Before We Were So Rudely Interrupted comes to mind, as well as The Beau Brummels in ’75, and The Beach Boys’ more recent That’s Why God Made The Radio–but you’d be hard-pressed to find many reunion albums that could truly stand shoulder-to-shoulder among any group’s best-loved work. Hell, until now, you’d be hard-pressed to find one. But Good Times! pulls it off–unexpectedly, miraculously, and convincingly–and can be considered right alongside the much-loved records The Monkees made in the ’60s. Even its sequencing evokes the arc of The Monkees’ original recording career, from the prefab, peerless pop of the earliest tracks, skipping the self-contained hey-hey-we’re a-rock-band of Headquarters, but running full-force into a contemporary Pisces, Birds & Bees, and Head, even subtly suggesting a post-1968 version of The Monkees if Tork had stayed in the fold.
With its mix of studio hotshots (particularly Schlesinger, guitarist Mike Viola, and drummer Brian Young on the new Dolenz-sung tracks) and bona fide contributions from The Monkees themselves, the album’s approach recalls the heyday of the Pisces record, mixed with a bit of the ol’ Golden-Eared Kirshner More Of The Monkees method on Dolenz’s sugarpop tracks. “Birth Of An Accidental Hipster” then builds a bridge to the psychedelic heights of Head, and the whole damned thing should just make you gleefully, willfully giddy. If this is The Monkees’ swan song, they’ll go out on top. If they do more in the future…well, that would be welcome, welcome news. Good times? GREAT times.
Oh, and next stop? The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. What on God’s green earth is there still left for The Monkees to prove? We’re believers, anyway.
Live – The Mike & Micky Show (Rhino)
Micky Dolenz has often joked about the aging Monkees over the years, saying, “Eventually, there’ll be just one of us touring, billed as The Monkee.” Truth be told, though, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, Davy Jones and Mike Nesmith have toured in so many different groupings over the years, that diehard fans don’t find it particularly odd that further shows will only include Micky and Mike. Seems like par for the course, actually.
The Mike & Micky Show chronicles a string of shows done in March of 2019, and it’s one that is sure to please. Micky opens the show with an enthusiastic “Last Train To Clarksville,” followed by Mike’s “Sunny Girlfriend.” Both Monkees are in fine voice, evidenced by the fact that Mike belts out the ringing high notes in the bridge of his “You Just May Be The One,” and Micky still squarely nails the high notes at the end of “Pleasant Valley Sunday.”
Fans are also treated to several neglected Nesmith gems like “You Told Me” from 1967’s brilliant Headquarters, and “Birth Of An Accidental Hipster,” written for him by Noel Gallagher and Paul Weller for the recent Good Times! long-player.
Also from Good Times! and arguably the highlight of these evening shows, is the beautiful duet between the old friends, which is an absolute master class in harmony vocalizing. These two Monkees have always had a really fine vocal kinship, but here, in the tender ballad, “Me & Magdalena,” it’s nothing short of gorgeous.
Fronting a skilled band that includes Mike’s son, Christian, and Micky’s sister, Coco, The Monkees are as strong and smile-inducing as they ever have been. Unlike their initial live album way back when, The Mike & Micky Show’s sound quality is superb. Additionally, it boasts a whopping twenty-five tracks, each as welcome to these ears as the one before it. Highly recommended.
This week, I’m taking another look at reviews I wrote of various Adam Schlesinger projects, when my Quick Spins column ran in The Kenosha News. Adam’s recent passing due to the pandemic has really impacted me, so I’d really like to be a part of people discovering what made him such a special guy.
Good Times! (Rhino)
A new Monkees‘ album couldn’t have come along at a better time. Knee-deep in political bile, social media aggression and civil rights unrest, planet Earth seems to be devolving into negativity at an alarming rate. What better antidote than Peter, Davy, Micky and Mike? Here they come, walkin’ down the street…
Good Times! is lovingly produced by Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne. Schlesinger, who wrote the theme song for Tom Hanks’s That Thing You Do!, unabashedly takes The Monkees back to their 1960’s heyday. While their previous reunion albums, Pool It! and Justus, were uneven attempts at being contemporary, Good Times! is all about taking it back to the beginning.
“You Bring The Summer,” written XTC’s Andy Partridge, and “She Makes Me Laugh,” by Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo, are perfect vehicles for Micky Dolenz’s apparently ageless voice. Mike Nesmith, he of the wool hat, shines on the pretty Western ballad, “Me & Magdelena.”
Though Davy Jones has passed on, his original 1967 vocals for the Neil Diamond-penned “Love To Love” fly in to keep things groovy. I’m so glad they found a way to make him a part of this, as he spent so many decades keeping the band’s legacy alive in concert. Peter Tork, though never recognized as a great vocalist, leaves not a dry eye in the house with his beautiful version of Goffin/King’s “Wasn’t Born To Follow.”
Good Times! is pure joy from start to finish, I can’t recommend it highly enough. It will make you want to roll down your car windows and put off running errands, in favor of a drive to the beach and an ice cream cone. It will lift your spirits, as it fills your mind with wonderful memories of good times and summers passed. If you’re lucky enough, CD-DVD-Games Warehouse might even have a Monkees’ coloring book for you when stop in to get your copy. What more could you ask for? Enjoy!
Michael Nesmith and Micky Dolenz should make a new album.
The two surviving members of The Monkees (Davy Jones died in 2012, and Peter Tork passed in early 2019) recently announced plans for another tour, and for release of a live album, The Mike & Micky Show Live, due out in April. That is welcome news, even though they’re still not coming anywhere near Syracuse. The mix of hits and deep cuts in the duo’s concert repertoire is intriguing, and they’ve assembled an absolutely crack combo to accompany them. It’s wonderful to hear that’s being preserved in official form; it’s further encouraging (and somewhat surprising) to learn that collaboration will continue for at least a little bit longer.
But man–they really should record a new studio album with their live band.
Why? Honestly, this particular combination of talents simply deserves an opportunity to do something more. The goal of a pop concert embraces familiar material, and rightly so; the audience may or may not be receptive to something new (a discussion for another time), but they for damned sure expect to hear some of the songs that made them fans, songs that made them wanna buy a ticket and throng to venues near and far. A live album documents that experience, both for those who were there and those who wish they could have been.
But an album of new material can expand our appreciation, and give us more songs to love. The Mike & Micky Show’s setlist includes “Birth Of An Accidental Hipster” and “Me & Magdalena,” two gems from The Monkees’ triumphant 2016 album Good Times! The presence of those songs amidst your “Pleasant Valley Sunday” and your “Listen To The Band” demonstrate the truth that great songs don’t care what year it is.
So why not add to that motherlode? Why not continue to create?
The pool of talent is there, and it starts at the top. As the once-common dismissals of The Monkees as a mere prefab pop product recede into the realm of a grumbling, myopic minority (probably otherwise occupied with yelling at kids to get off of their damned lawn), more and more enlightened fans and pundits recognize the gift and artistry the individual Monkees invested in their work. Dolenz remains a soulful, accomplished singer, Nesmith retains his well-earned aura of gravitas, and the two of ’em sound magnificent together. They always have.
But the magic of this combo goes deeper than that. Their live band is just killer, propelled in large part by Michael’s son Christian Nesmith. The younger Nesmith is a rockin’ pop force of nature, his guitar and vocals fueling the group’s driving, irresistible sound. Christian’s wife Circe Link–a well-respected talent in her own right–and Micky’s sister Coco Dolenz add heart and harmony to this family affair, and all of the players–all of ’em–know exactly what they’re doing and how to do it. The Mike & Micky Show band can kick any ass that needs kickin’.
And I would so love to hear what they all could do on a new studio album.
I don’t want them to do remakes. I don’t want them to do a tribute to Monkees songwriters like Carole King or Neil Diamond or Boyce & Hart. I’m sure they could pull off a few well-chosen covers for flavor–I’m particularly fond of the idea of Micky singing Gary Frenay‘s unrecognized pop classic “Make Something Happen”–but come on! Don’t you think the members of this band could come up with some great songs you haven’t heard yet, songs that no one has heard yet? For cryin’ out loud, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith’s “I’m On Your Side” was our most-played song on This Is Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio in 2017, and I already know there’s more fantastic stuff where that came from. I wanna hear it, in the studio, with Mike and Micky. I bet you’d wanna hear it, too.
If such an album were ever made, I think I’d prefer that it not be billed as a Monkees record. While these two last surviving members of the group do have every right to call themselves The Monkees, the idea of a new Monkees album invites the idea of including recordings by the late Peter Tork and Davy Jones; many fans would want that, some would insist upon it, and I do not want that at all. We mourn those we have lost. We acknowledge our loss, and pay tribute when it’s appropriate. But we can’t live our lives trying to bring theirs back.
I know this is all a remote possibility. It’s a bit more plausible than my previously-posted fantasy of Micky Dolenz making an album with The Flashcubes. Frankly, I’m not even sure Nesmith or Dolenz would have the merest interest in doing something like this. But I’m still a believer, and I would very, very much like to listen to this band.
According to the two men themselves, Mike Nesmith & Peter Tork were not great friends, but, rather, co-workers resigned to their individual duties. Maybe it’s not what we (or they) would have wanted for them, but in the end, their relationship was what it was. I feel a lot of love and respect in this new message from Mike, and I’m glad he put these thoughts out into the universe (for Peter).
Girl b/w Forget That Girl (Jetfighter)
What’s not to love about this digital single? Benefitting The Davy Jones Equine Memorial Foundation, it features two songs that the man himself sang, “Girl,” which was a solo single featured on an episode of The Brady Bunch, and “Forget That Girl,” a swell Monkees’ track from their Headquarters Lp.
Sharp’s heart is clearly in the right place, and the joy is palpable in every note of these two “Davy” numbers. They’re just plain fun to listen to, and can’t we all use a bit of fun these days? More, please!