For the love of Davy

We interrupt our regularly scheduled episode of "Bedroom In the Basement" (today's installment was going to discuss the new Van Halen single) to pay tribute to a guy even shorter than me, Davy Jones, who died suddenly today at the age of 66.

It's hard to recall my earliest memory of the Monkees, but I believe it was sometime back in 1986 when I saw a rerun of their show while at a hotel (possibly on "Nick at Nite?").  The catchy songs and madcap antics of the characters appealed to me, and I remember my parents taking notice of my enjoyment of them. They may have been the first band my dad and I bonded over, as he was a fan of them in his teenage years. This was an excellent example of how the music of the '60s bridged the generation gap. My dad said he had all of the Monkees records, and when we got back home he looked through an old, musty box in the basement to find them for me to listen to. Alas, they were nowhere to be found.

It turns out the Monkee records, along with my dad's Beatles collection (and possibly a copy of Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon"), were loaned out to a short-haired, bespectacled babysitter of mine named Janet.  She had wanted to record them onto cassette for her brother, and never returned them. In the meantime my family moved to a town 45 minutes away, putting the final nail in the coffin as far as ever getting them back.

Despite this setback, I continued to enjoy the music of the Monkees over the next 25+ years, and saw many a reunion occur between them. I remember it being a big deal in 1996 when all four members got back together, as Mike Nesmith had often been the lone hold-out for a full fledged reunion. I saw Davy appear as himself on a rerun of "The Brady Bunch," and watched him reprise this role in 1995's "Brady Bunch Movie."

As I got older, I noticed that the Monkees were deeper than I had been led to believe. This was evident after watching their feature film, 1968's 'Head," which was a tripped-out satire. I later discovered that some of their deeper cuts were early examples of the "country rock" style popularized in the late '60s by bands like The Byrds and Poco.

A lot of people slagged them for being actors pretending to be a band, but Mike Nesmith and Peter Tork were accomplished musicians prior to joining (Stephen Stills had recommended Peter Tork for the band after his own failed audition).

So, remembering Davy, I offer my favorite performance of his. The video is a scene from the movie "Head" featuring Davy dancing while singing "Daddy's Song." It spotlights some innovative choreography and cinematography, but what I enjoy the most about it is that it's a happy song with lyrics that are sad.

                                                    David Thomas Jones, 1945-2012

Happy B-day Brian!

Today, had he not passed away in 1969, founding Rolling Stone and original rhythm guitarist Brian Jones would be 70 years old. Original member Bill Wyman stated about Jones: "...he formed the band. He chose the members. He named the band. He chose the music we played. He got us gigs ... Very influential, very important, and then slowly lost it - highly intelligent - and just kind of wasted it and blew it all away."

Here's footage of the Stones playing on Ed Sullivan, with Brian on sitar, playing one of their most classic tunes:

From what I can tell, the Stones lost something that could never be replaced (2 rhythm guitarists later)! Maybe it was an attitude, or an impishness, or a talent for playing multiple instruments. Brian was definitely the equivalent of George Harrison in the band...the "dark horse" if you will. Like George, Brian was a guy overshadowed by the two main song-writers/front-men. He was also the one that nobody realized was as important to the band as he was until he was gone.

I'm hip...I'm with it...tucka tucka tucka tucka

One of my recent vinyl acquisitions was a 2 record "best of" set featuring Franki Valli and the Four Seasons. The band consisted of four Jersey boy Italians guys who love to harmonize. (I can remember being confused by their name when I was younger...shouldn't it be FIVE guys if it's "Franki Valli AND the Four Seasons?' Would the more technically correct name be "Franki Valli OF the Four Seasons?" Or "The Four Seasons Feat. Franki Valli?" *End hair splitting*

Having grown up listening to oldies radio, I've heard all of their hits before including "Walk Like a Man," "Big Girls Don't Cry," and "Rag Doll" (not the Aerosmith version). To fill in some gaps in my knowledge while listening to it yesterday, I hopped on Wikipedia and learned that in 1968 they put out a psychedelic album with "relevant" lyrics, called The Genuine Imitation Life Gazette. 


I can imagine how difficult it must have been for some bands to "change with the times" as a marketing gimmick instead of organically. The Four Seasons had a particular style and formula that suited them, and to put out an album like this must have seemed pretty jarring to their fans. Other, hipper record buyers may have scoffed at it upon release, seeing it as not genuine. I listened to a few tracks on Youtube and the music is  pretty enjoyable, but there is no way I would have known it was the Four Seasons by listening alone.  It just didn't contain those trademark harmonies the boys were known for.

I like the picture of them featured on the album too, where they're wearing matching "Austin Powers" outfits, a few of them even sporting facial hair, which was de rigueur at the time. At any rate, after disbanding in the early '70s they got back together in the disco era for a renaissance in popularity, with songs like "Who Loves You" and "December 1963 (Oh What A Night)."  In the 1980s started touring the oldies circuit, where they have been ever since. I wonder if they ever think of the album they put out so long ago, that now can only be viewed by fans (and themselves) as a novelty?