The Monkees, created for a TV series, made a creditable attempt to become a real band after I'm A Believer became a hit
------- But the real masterstroke for Rafelson and Schneider was in their choice of Monkee. There were any number of teenage pin-up types hovering around Hollywood, but all were overlooked in favour Davy, Micky, Peter and Michael - the key, according to Rafelson and Schneider being their humour, their spontaneity and their charm. Having spotted that John, Paul, George and Ringo were not exactly the ideal teenagers of US imagination, they decided that The Monkees too would have to be of the cheeky-boys-next-door variety. Their musical abilities were neither here nor there.
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And no matter what they would do in the future, that Hollywood formation would never be forgotten. But perhaps all those critics were missing the point? Like today's boybands, the early Monkees were no more than a fantasy. Most manufactured popgroups are no more than that and to consider them in terms of music, and in relation to musicians, is unfair on everybody. To The Monkees' credit however, they did make a short-lived attempt to take control of things and even began to write their own material. Some of the songs weren't bad at all, although they soon discovered that they still needed a lot of outside help. The 1968 movie Head, produced by Rafelson and Jack Nicholson, while a commercial failure, was regarded by some as a work of strange genius and it had a pretty good soundtrack too. But it wasn't enough. The whole Monkee project was bound to end in tears and only Michael Nesmith ever managed to progress with any success as a musician. But at least, at times, they tried.
The Definitive Monkees is on Warner Music
Sniping at manufactured popbands is like shooting fish in a barrel, but that's not to say it shouldn't be done. No harm to them certainly, but it's hard not to stop your stomach churning at the sight and sound of contemporary pap. It's hard not to get depressed at the total grip they have on radio and on the lives of our under-12s. It's difficult not to throw things at the screen every time some airbrushed pretty-boy winks and demands to be adored. And it breaks my heart that it always seems so easy for anybody with the money and the neck to make it happen - over and over again.
In September 1965, an advertisement in Daily Variety caught the attention of every pretty-boy in Hollywood. Placed by Raybert Productions, it sought musicians/singers for acting roles in a new television series. Four hundred and thirtyseven hopefuls showed up and the four successful candidates were soon announced to the world as The Monkees - an early example of a manufactured "band" going straight to the top of the charts. Like so much of today's pop-pap, the initial impulse had nothing whatever to do with music. Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider of Raybert Productions had witnessed Beatlemania and reckoned, correctly, that its re-creation on television would be an obvious hit. It was as simple as that. There was never any attempt to start an actual band - they simply sought out a bunch of young actors who could pretend to be one. But the real masterstroke for Rafelson and Schneider was in their choice of Monkee. There were any number of teenage pin-up types hovering around Hollywood, but all were overlooked in favour Davy, Micky, Peter and Michael - the key, according to Rafelson and Schneider being their humour, their spontaneity and their charm. Having spotted that John, Paul, George and Ringo were not exactly the ideal teenagers of US imagination, they decided that The Monkees too would have to be of the cheeky-boys-next-door variety. Their musical abilities were neither here nor there.
And so the plan was simple. The Monkees, a fictional group formed entirely for the purposes of television, would start rehearsing the shows while the composing stable of Screen-Gems Columbia would write Monkee music to order. With people such as Goffin and King, Neil Diamond, David Gates and Neil Sedaka on board, catchy pop-songs were virtually on tap. Hired professional musicians would see to everything else.
The "band" itself was an odd bunch. Davy Jones, an English actor who had once been Ena Sharple's grandson on Coronation Street, already had a contract with Columbia Pictures and was a shoo-in for the part. Micky Dolenz was also a child actor who had once starred in a show called Circus Boy. Peter Thorkelson (Tork) and Michael Nesmith who could both play guitar, had been regulars on the folk scene but got the parts even so. The fifth and sixth Monkees remained invisible: Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, who commissioned or sometimes wrote the music for the series, including the tone-setting (Theme From) The Monkees.
They also wrote a song called Last Train to Clarksville - a great song by any standards - which was released as a promotional weapon for the television show. To everyone's surprise, it soon began to get significant radio airplay and, within six weeks, it was at number one. Apart from the Micky Dolenz vocal, there were no other Monkees involved. They weren't allowed. The second single, I'm a Believer, was a number-one hit all over the world and suddenly this group (which wasn't a group) had somehow made the Beatles move over in the bed. There was, however, one obvious and major problem. Hysterical Monkee fans wanted to see their heroes play live - a tall order for a bunch of actors who, until then, had merely been jumping around to backing tracks played by other people. And so Micky Dolenz took intensive drumming lessons and, with some serious professional assistance/reinforcements, The Monkees finally did risk it on a stage - very seriously blurring the lines in the process. Inevitable questions of control soon began to arise, however, with Nesmith and Tork (the only actual musicians in the band) finally beginning to mutter and protest. They were increasingly embarrassed at what was being released in their name - tolerable enough as part of a bubblegum television show, but things had now changed considerably. The press too began to protest at the cynical nature of it all and serious music fans viewed the phenomenon with contempt.
And no matter what they would do in the future, that Hollywood formation would never be forgotten. But perhaps all those critics were missing the point? Like today's boybands, the early Monkees were no more than a fantasy. Most manufactured popgroups are no more than that and to consider them in terms of music, and in relation to musicians, is unfair on everybody. To The Monkees' credit however, they did make a short-lived attempt to take control of things and even began to write their own material. Some of the songs weren't bad at all, although they soon discovered that they still needed a lot of outside help. The 1968 movie Head, produced by Rafelson and Jack Nicholson, while a commercial failure, was regarded by some as a work of strange genius and it had a pretty good soundtrack too. But it wasn't enough. The whole Monkee project was bound to end in tears and only Michael Nesmith ever managed to progress with any success as a musician. But at least, at times, they tried.