Okay -- our patriotic duty now dispatched, let us move on to something more appropriate to the mission statement of this here blog.
Ahem. As you may have heard, The Monkees -- a/k/a the Prefab Four (or was that The Rutles? Whatever.) -- have a delightful new album out, produced by Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne (and have I mentioned that Adam Schlesinger is a goddamn genius?).
That being the case, we begin a week-long celebration of all-things Monkees with, from 1986, the hit single from the band's first, MTV-inspired comeback, the totally infectious and appropriately titled "That Was Then, This is Now."
And from 1985, because I love you all more than food, here's the original, more overtly power pop-esque, version by The Mosquitos, featuring a vocal by its composer Vance Brescia.
I must confess I hadn't heard the original until a few days ago; to my surprise, however, I find I still prefer The Monkees version, the dated/annoying 80s-synth production stuff (courtesy of uber-hack producer Michael Lloyd) notwithstanding. In any case, a terrific song.
Have I mentioned that Jann Wenner can go fuck himself?
Tomorrow: My favorite tune by the Smart Monkee.
16 comments:
Steve,
How about we start a Monkees tribute band called the Rusty Chainshaws ?
At our live gigs, we can dedicate each song to Wenner and explain why.
J. Lag
Oh, by the way, in this tribute band, I'm definitely "the cute one". Just sayin'... :)
Happy Memorial Day,
J. Lag
Thanks, I had never heard the original or the Mosquitos.
Do you really love ALL of us more than food?
Dave F
Depends on the food, I would imagine.
I like the Mosquitos version much better. They were even better live. Hate the production on the Monkees. Plastic vomit.
Does Vance still play in latter day Hermits?
Did the group take their name from the fictitious Gilligan's Island band? Seems likely. Bingo, Bango, Bongo & Irving. A reputation further cemented in Linklater's Dazed.
VR - happy mammorial day
http://i1282.photobucket.com/albums/a535/VanessaStone/Alta%20Loma/Sesseinssontsi-voluptueux_zpsyrcwhx6p.jpg
Oh, and fuck Jann Wenner up the ass with a splintered 2 x 4 on a bed of pus and excrement. Tiger Beat's got more credibility.
VR - salvation's yours for just the time it takes to pay the dancer
Just explain to me how the Monkees are any more "manufactured" than the Supremes or Vandellas or Crystals? They didn't write or play on their hits, were the product of a Svengali producer who each made ere defining yet timeless great music. Kind of like the Monkees, no?
I don't know if I can take an entire week of The Monkees. Can we cap it off by Wednesday?
Hey I like The Monkees but don't love them. If they get an entire week then the rest of 2016 should be dedicated to Otis Redding. Fuck, Nico should also get a week! Hell two weeks!
Captain Al
Hey, you fuck Jann Wenner!
Captain Al
The Monkees were OK. The hits were valid. And you could make a pretty good 2-LP set out of the material on the first 4-LP's. If you leave out "Hard To Believe", Pisces is a near perfect album. I liked them at the time. But, like many, I disowned them when I got older. The unreleased shit that surfaced in the 1980's got me interested again. Some of the stuff on the Links releases was pretty cool.
My youngest daughter got into them when she was four. The first song she heard was "Pleasant Valley Sunday" and she was smitten. She soaked up CD's of the first 4 albums and the 2-CD Anthology. Then I picked up a used box set of the TV series for her. After school she'd be watchin' either the Monkees, or The Outer Limits. She had no concept of how retro that was. It was all new to her. :-)
At 7, her first concert was The Monkees, albeit just the Davy and Mickey cheezeball show. As a birthday gift, I had burned her a CD compilation with pretty cool homemade artwork and even a booklet. The title was "Cutting the Monkees" and it deliberately went for the "deep cuts", no hits whatsoever. She brought it to the show and got it signed by both guys. They were very gracious, except that at first Micky thought it was some sort of pirate release.
I saw the Monkees at the Bowl in 1967. I went with this high school guy that was in a local band. About a week before, he asked me to a dance at his Catholic school. I didn't know the guy that well and was reluctant to go, but Strawberry Alarm Clock were playing and they'd been getting some local airplay in Berdoo with their indie hit. It turned out we really clicked during and especially after the dance.
He told me he was going to see the Monkees at the Bowl with a girl from the neighboring all-girls Catholic school. By the end of the night I convinced him to give her the brush and take me instead. A little friendly persuasion.
On the way to the bowl I turned him on to grass. I couldn't believe he never smoked before because he was way older than me. He got really fucked up and started driving between 35 and 40 miles an hour on the freeway like a laughing rookie in dreamland. I got his weed cherry. I told him to feel free to bogart. I was already high when he picked me up. KHJ was playing "White Rabbit" as I kissed his neck lightly and stroked his thigh. It was a pretty cozy trip to the Bowl. I saved the full Thank You for later.
I didn't expect the Monkees to be good at all, but was curious to see how bad of a train wreck it would be. They were the hottest ticket in town at the time. They had a nice audio visual presentation for "Shades of Gray". And I don't remember any other performer jumping into the fountain like Mickey did. But it was a super corny presentation all-in-all. The opening Ike and Tina Turner Revue sure made them and the Sundowners look LIMP. That's for sure!
We ended up grabbing a bite in Sunset Beach. Then we went to this surfer/acid dealer's house in Laguna. I met the guy at a Doors gig in Pasadena with Love, Canned Heat and WCPAEB. He knew one of the guys in Canned Heat. I'd partied at his place a coupla times before. He could see we were in the mood, so he gave us some primo Vietnamese weed and a vial of hash oil to enhance our experience.
We merged perfectly and slithered through dimensions and time. Moist lips and rapturous tongues were bearing the light and baring the truth. We feasted and fucked in the mystic marriage and gained omnipotence. Mucho fuckin' tasty. Ne plus ultra. Brought out my inner witch.
We ended up spending the rest of the weekend in Laguna. It's the first time I didn't make it home by dawn. Gave my parents some bullshit story.
Sadly, the guy ended up getting decapitated in a car accident a coupla years later. His best friend, who also knew me well, was driving the car and lived. They got hit by a meat truck that ran a red light. Hope I run into him in the afterlife.
VR - believe the promise painted in my smile
Didn't see the decapitation coming. Then again hash oil can also do that to you.
Captain Al
I was three cars behind them when it happened. They had a gig in Pomona. A bunch of San Bernardino people went and were on a caravan to go home. There was meat all over the street.
It was a horrible and traumatic thing to eyewitness. I was only fifteen at the time. The friend who was driving the car only had minor injuries. But he never really got over it mentally. They were best friends. We sobbed on each others shoulders a lot for the next few years. Then he checked out.
It was a significant event in my young life. And it wouldn't be the only time that someone close to me bought it on the highway. I was glad to have known the guy. We got inside each other and made magic. And we will again. They don't call them the Pearly Gates for nothing.
VR - standing in the lonely light of the silver moon
And the Resident Narcissist is clearly off her meds again.
Anonymous:
When are you going to have the guts to at least add a name to your remarks?
Captain Al
yeah, When are you going to have the guts to at least add a name to your remarks?
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