I’ve done quite a few of these “21 Underrated Songs You Need
to Hear Now” lists, but this is the one that matters most, because none of the
other groups I’ve covered are as misunderstood as The Monkees. Ridiculed during
their time for being phonies because they formed on a TV studio back lot and
not in a garage, The Monkees were painted as a quartet of no-talent, bubblegum
salesmen. Anyone with ears who heard their best hits could detect this wasn’t true,
even if the guys rarely contributed more than their considerable vocal talents
to those charting singles. But as far as I’m concerned, you have to dig a bit
deeper to uncover the songs that really made The Monkees extraordinary. Some of
these non-hits—such as “Randy Scouse Git” (which actually was a hit in the UK),
“Shades of Gray”, “What Am I Doing Hangin’ ‘Round?”, “Saturday’s Child”, “Mary
Mary”, “Goin’ Down”, and “For Pete’s Sake”—have been well represented enough on
hits compilations that they can’t really be called underrated anymore. A lot of
other Monkees recordings have gotten a lot less exposure than they deserve. So
for anyone who still holds to that increasingly outdated opinion that Mike
Nesmith, Micky Dolenz (celebrating his 70th birthday today), Peter
Tork, and Davy Jones weren’t truly talented, truly original singers, musicians,
writers, and producers really does need to hear the following 21 underrated
songs.
1. “Papa Gene’s Blues”
(from the album The Monkees) 1966
The Monkees were rarely taken seriously during their own
time, but fortunately a lot of the stupid prejudices to which they were
subjected have faded over time. Today it’s hard to feature anyone not succumbing
to the exhilaration of Mike’s Tex-Mex jambalaya “Papa Gene’s Blues”. With its
rising and falling chord progression and simplistically joyful chorus, it
remains one of Nes’s freshest compositions. With its intricate web of
percussion and twangy guitars, it is one of his most magnetic productions. Mike
deserves extra credit for demanding Peter Tork be allowed to pick his acoustic
in the backline, thus taking the first tentative step toward making The Monkees
a real group.
2. “Sweet Young Thing”
(from the album The Monkees) 1966
Despite composing some high quality material on his own, Mike
Nesmith still couldn’t catch any respect from music supervisor Don Kirschner,
who insisted he work with the more seasoned duo of Gerry Goffin and Carole King.
The experience wasn’t pleasant for anyone involved, and Mike apparently said
something that reduced Carole to tears at one point. Fortunately, something
great came out of the forced collaboration, the stomping, careening Cajun funk
“Sweet Young Thing”. Like “Papa Gene’s Blues”, it was a real pop anomaly in
’66, and I certainly haven’t heard anything that sounds like it since. I don’t
care if Mike wasn’t the guy whacking out those fuzz chords or sawing away at
the fiddle (session man Jimmy Bryant deserves credit for that dizzying touch),
he produced this thing, and it’s the production that makes the fairly
simplistic composition come alive.
3. “All of Your Toys”
(unreleased until 1987’s Missing Links
compilation) recorded 1967
Now we jump ahead a bit (since so much of More of the Monkees ended up on Greatest
Hits albums) to a decisive time in The Monkees’ career. A mere four months have
passed since the first episode of their TV series aired, and already they were
taking command of their career. Angered by product featuring his name and
likeness he deemed subpar, Mike Nesmith led his cohorts in a true-blue
revolution, slapping down a tough ultimatum: either Kirshner allows the guys to
play on their records and choose their own material or The Monkees walk out on
a money-making juggernaut while there were still a lot more dollars to rake in.
Kirshner may have had a good ear for hits, but without The Monkees, there’d be
no recordings. Their inaugural selection was Bill Martin’s pensive “All of Your
Toys”, and yes, cynics, that really is Micky on the drums, Peter on the
harpsichord, Mike on guitar, and Davy on percussion (Mike’s old buddy Jack
London sits in on bass). The amazing thing is they sound like they’d been a
proper band for ages, with Mike’s fluid arpeggios complimenting Peter’s dancing
keyboard beautifully. But the MVP is Micky, whose vocal improvs on the fade out
are as stunning as his muscular snare attacks. Sadly, the song wasn’t published
through Screen Gems Music so “All of Your Toys” could not be the single The
Monkees intended it to be. Fans would have to wait twenty years to hear it on
the Missing Links outtakes
compilation. I’m sure most of us agree it was worth the wait.
4. “You Told Me”
(from the album Headquarters) 1967
Kirshner continued to hang on for a while even as he sneered
at The Monkees’ attempts to be “a real band.” He had so little regard for their
ambitions that he took it upon himself to put out two tracks Jeff Barry
recorded with studio musicians—Neil Diamond’s “A Little Bit Me A Little Bit
You” b/w Barry’s “She Hangs Out”—as the next “Monkees” single. The
megalomaniacal move got Kirshner canned, and The Monkees celebrated by
recording their first—and last—album as a basically self-contained band. Headquarters is a classic for its
freshness, variety, and charming from-the-garage performances, and it all gets
started with a seriously ass-kicking new Nesmith number called “You Told Me”. The
guys goof through a parody of the count-in to The Beatles’ “Taxman”, Nesmith
picks a few rudimentary arpeggios on his guitar. Amateur hour? Hardly. Tork’s
fleet-fingered banjo shudders into the mix. Suddenly the track whirls, and when
producer/former-Turtle Chip Douglas’s drops in his bass and Dolenz slams into
his four-on-the-floor beat, we’re knee deep in a country-rock basher no “pre-fab
band” could ever pull off.
5. “Sunny Girlfriend”
(from the album Headquarters) 1967
Mike wrote “Sunny Girlfriend” as a simple tune the guys
could reproduce on stage with a minimum of fuss. It worked, and the song became
a staple of The Monkees’ famed 1967 tour. On record, it was just as effective,
borrowing the guitar riff from The Rolling Stones’ version of “It’s All Over
Now” and the standard boogie bass line to create a jangly, country rocker that is
as close to the “true” Monkees sound as it gets. Mike and Micky show off the
unique Texas-twang-meets-blue-eyed-soul vocal blend that would be one of the
most wonderful bi-products of the band’s most collaborative era.
6. “Early Morning Blues and Greens” (from the album Headquarters)
1967
The vocal blend of Peter Tork and Davy Jones was another
interesting, though less used, product of this period, and it can be heard on
two of the moodier Headquarters
tracks: “Shades of Gray” and “Early Morning Blues and Greens”. While the former
song was popular enough to serve as a sort of “honorary single” on the
single-less (at least in America) Headquarters,
the latter remains pretty obscure. Peter hoped to handle Jack Keller and Diane
Hildebrand’s melancholic watercolor on his own, but was relegated to a harmony
role. His slightly off-tune delivery provides delectable saltiness over Davy’s
whispered sweetness. The arrangement is highly unusual, taut with Micky and
Chip’s clockwork rhythm section, lazy with Mike’s loose guitar chipping.
Peter’s organ stabs add a surprising, almost violent element to the
instrumental interludes.
7. “Salesman”
(from the album Pisces, Aquarius,
Capricorn, & Jones, LTD.) 1967
Headquarters is
The Monkees’ most playful sounding record, but it was apparently pretty
grueling to make. Chip Douglas often had to piece together backing tracks from
acceptable bits of otherwise unacceptable takes. Not surprisingly, most of The Monkees
had little interest in recording this way again (ever the devoted musician,
Peter was the only one who wanted to keep working as a true band). So for their
next album, The Monkees settled on a compromise between the old studio musician
method and the new “we play on everything!” decree. With all do sympathy to
Peter’s Rock & Roll dreams, it really was the best approach, and Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, & Jones
is the best Monkees album. Crack session drummer “Fast” Eddie Hoh was one of
the benefits of the new approach, and he gets a real showcase on Craig Smith’s
sly “Salesman”. So does Mike, who gets to smirk his way through Smith’s put
down of sleazy hawkers. Chip chips in with one of his best loping bass lines
and Micky shows off his scary falsetto in the back ups.
8. “The Door Into Summer” (from the album Pisces,
Aquarius, Capricorn, & Jones, LTD.) 1967
When we last left Bill Martin, he was getting shut out of
The Monkees’ story because he failed to publish “All of Your Toys” through
Screen Gems. Get on your knees and thank Zeus or whoever you worship that he
sorted out his publishing by the time he wrote “The Door into Summer”, because
this is the most beautiful, most perfectly executed thing The Monkees ever did.
Martin took the title and a quick reference to time travel from Robert
Heinlein’s really good sci-fi novel, but his lyrics mostly seem to be about the
unattainable dreams of the greedy. Peter kicks off the track with a filthy
clavinet riff out of which a fluttering nylon-string riff rises like a phoenix.
Eddie Hoh (or according to some theories, Micky Dolenz) kicks in for a
pulse-quickening tempo that off sets Mike’s almost offhand vocal. Mike and the
rest rouse themselves for a heart-swelling chorus over which Peter adds a
breathtaking music-box piano melody that sparkles like sunlight glinting off a
geode. The vocal volley that ends the song is the most sublime such thing this
side of “God Only Knows”. Can you believe people wrote off The Monkees as a
bunch of talentless bozos? Can you fucking believe it?
9. “Love Is Only Sleeping” (from the album Pisces,
Aquarius, Capricorn, & Jones, LTD.) 1967
The Monkees had interesting plans for their fifth single.
Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil had written some of the biggest hits of the
sixties, including The Animals’ “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”, Paul Revere
and the Raiders’ “Kicks”, and The Righteous Brothers’ “You’ve Lost That Lovin’
Feeling”, as well as The Monkees’ own “Shades of Gray”. Like that song, “Love
Is Only Sleeping” is an unusually moody, reflective song for The Monkees,
dealing with the ups and downs of a relationship in a more complex way than
anything the band had recorded yet. Like “Pleasant Valley Sunday”, it is driven
by a wiry guitar riff and crisp drumming, but the combination of Nesmith’s
eerie wail, the psychedelic percussive clicks and clacks that flit through the
mix, and a rather undanceable time signature that lurches between 7/8 and 4/4
makes for a less commercial and more unsettling sound. “Love Is Only Sleeping”
had a better chance of establishing The Monkees as a serious group than any
earlier single, but after a pressing delay, Colgems rethought the plan and
decided to flip the B-side to the A-side and shift “Love Is Only Sleeping” to Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, and Jones, LTD.
It probably would not have been the #1 monster “Daydream Believer” turned out
to be if that song was left on the B-side, but “Love Is Only Sleeping” is still
a hell of a lot cooler.
10. “Star Collector”
(from the album Pisces, Aquarius,
Capricorn, & Jones, LTD.) 1967
The two Moog-centric tracks from Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, & Jones, LTD. had to battle it out
a bit. I figured more than five tracks might over-represent The Monkees’ best
album, not leaving enough spots on this list for, say, Present or Instant Replay.
“Daily Nightly” is a really cool song with a fabulous bassline and it allows
Micky Dolenz to show off his weird ways with the Moog synthesizer undiluted by
Paul Beaver’s more accomplished skills, and it’s probably a better track than
at least a couple of things on this list. Nevertheless, I made my choice, and I
stand by it. Congratulations, “Star Collector”, you’re in with your super
catchy chorus scripted by Goffin and King and your head-spinning collision of
Beaver’s very musical and clinical approach to the Moog and Micky’s trippier
flights of madness. Davy shouts insults at a groupie from the middle of the
electronic maelstrom and Eddie Hoh and Chip Douglas once again show off what a
dynamic rhythm section they are. Bye bye!
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| Can you click it? |
11. “Carlisle Wheeling” (unreleased until 1987’s Missing
Links compilation) recorded 1967
Mike Nesmith wasn’t happy with “Carlisle Wheeling”, hence
its failure to appear on the next album, The
Birds, The Bees, & The Monkees. Mike tried rerecording the song several times before deciding its
issues laid in its lyric and not the arrangement (he even tried renaming it
“Conversations” for a solo remake that went on his Loose Salute). In my Mike Nesmith’s Ten Greatest Monkees Songs list (much of which I recycled for this one) I wrote that the lyric is “a bit heavy handedly poetic”, but I’m not sure I still feel that way. The slightly awkward metaphors (“the phoenix of our love first flapped its silver wings”) may actually make the completely direct lines (“I remember the time I said I really had to go / I remember the tears that filled your eyes”) cleaner and more poignant in contrast. Mike’s simple, astoundingly
beautiful folk melody and the original recording’s spare arrangement of acoustic guitar, drums, percussion, banjo,
and organ are uncomplicated by any possible issues. Though it has been reedited and remixed for several compilations, the first and best version of
“Carlisle Wheeling” simply must be heard with the ominous percussive introduction only included on Missing Links.
12. “Auntie’s Municipal Court” (from the album The
Birds, The Bees, & The Monkees) 1968
After basically making two albums as a band, The Monkees
really went their separate ways, each guy producing his own tracks without the
slightest regard for what the others were doing. Any semblance of cohesion was
now gone, which became clear on The
Birds, The Bees, & The Monkees, a record largely split between some of
Davy’s sappiest tracks and Mike’s freakiest. Overall, the LP doesn’t really
work, but there are some great things on it. The greatest is a new song Mike
co-wrote with Keith Allison of the Raiders. Mike had been experimenting with
ways to replant his Texan country roots in stranger soils since the very
beginning of The Monkees. That project flourished with “Auntie’s Municipal
Court”, which is both down-home and extravagantly psychedelic. I won’t begin to
pretend I know what the lyric means— or if it indeed means anything— but the
track just sounds incredible, a perpetually churning murky sea over which little bits of
metallic debris glimmer. Richard Dey’s bass arches out of the mix like a rainbow.
13. “P.O. Box 9847”
(from the album The Birds, The Bees, &
The Monkees) 1968
Despite his out-sized talent, Micky did not share Mike,
Peter, or even Davy’s ambitions, so he took the lead on fewer tracks when he
became responsible for producing them himself. Still, when he got in the studio,
he could still do wonderful work, as he proved with his mesmerizing vocal on “Auntie’s Municipal
Court”. His best contribution to The Birds, The Bees that wasn’t helmed by another Monkee is “P.O. Box 9847”, a song by veteran
Monkees composers Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. Micky handed production
duties off to them on this one (even though all production credits on the LP
would still go to “The Monkees”), though this sounds completely unlike their
work on the first two records. Inspired by Bob Rafelson’s suggestion that Boyce
and Hart write something in classified-ad format, the song itself isn’t that
special, but the heady mix of instruments—tabla, tack piano, swooping bass,
shrieking strings, bone-jangling marxophone—and Micky’s ever dramatic voice
make the recording extraordinary.
14. “Circle Sky”
(from the album Head) 1968
The Monkees’ first— and, alas, final— feature film was an
attempt to show the guys as they really were: hip to the artificiality of their
creation and capable of making truly imaginative music as good as any of their
pop peers. Part of the plan was to have them play one of the songs live in Head. For this assignment, Mike Nesmith
wrote “Circle Sky”. With its surreal lyric and hypnotic Bo Diddley guitar riff,
the track boasted the wildest psychedelia and the rawest Rock & Roll
simplicity. The Monkees played the number with enthusiastic aggression in the
film (though I never liked how Micky’s constant fills trip up a beat that should
be propulsive), and it is usually held up as the definitive version. I still
prefer the swampy studio version by a long shot. Mike’s vocal is mixed very
low, forcing him to shout over the apocalyptic explosion of percussion and
guitars. Everyone who thinks Mike Nesmith was some sort of pre-fab puppet who
couldn’t make real Rock & Roll needs to hear the electrifying “Circle Sky”. It will shut them right
the fuck up.
15. “Can You Dig It?”
(from the album Head) 1968
All four Monkees worked hard to produce quality tracks for
their fifth album, The Birds, The Bees, &
The Monkees, but when music-supervisor Lester Sill chose the tracks, he shortchanged
Peter Tork completely. Apart from his piano parts on “Daydream Believer”, Peter
is not represented on the album at all. Perhaps this was punishment for the
massive amount of studio time and money he’d spent on his songs “Lady’s Baby”
and “Long Title: Do I Have to Do This All Over Again?” Fortunately, he was not
shut out of Head, which he nearly
dominates by contributing two of its mere six songs (Carole King is the only
writer as well represented on the soundtrack). Though its title dates it, “Can
You Dig It?” is one of Peter’s most alluringly melodic compositions, and the whirling
dervish arrangement of clattering guitars, hard-hitting drums, and anxious bass
is killer.
16. “As We Go Along”
(from the album Head) 1968
Arguably, The Monkees’ finest single was Goffin and King’s
cryptic, mesmerizing “Porpoise Song”, but its flip side is gorgeous too.
Co-written by King and new collaborator Toni Stern, “As We Go Along” is
technically odd because of its unconventional 5/8 time signature, yet it is so
melodically fluid and so beautifully arranged (Neil Young contributes to the
tapestry of guitars) that it sounds as pure and clear as a mountain brook. Micky’s
lovingly rendered vocal really makes “As We Go Along” special. Although that
time signature made the song tough to sing, Micky sure sounds like he’s
navigating it effortlessly. When his voice soars up on the chorus, he’ll pull
your heart with it.
17. “Long Title: Do I Have to Do This All Over Again?” (from the album The Head) 1968
Peter also plays with odd time signatures on “Long Title: Do
I Have to Do This All Over Again?” but to very different effect. As lovely as
“As We Go Along” is, “Long Title” is hectic, ferocious, fast, downright punky.
Of course, few punk bands could handle its heart-stopping shifts from 4/4 to
3/4, and few could probably pull off what Lance Wakely accomplishes on his
gnarly bass. Peter’s vocal may be his best. Don’t you think he sounds a lot
like Jim Morrison on this one?
Unfortunately, “Long Title” also marks his final major appearance on a
classic-era Monkees record. Fortunately he went out on a real high.
18. “I Won’t Be the Same Without Her” (from the album Instant
Replay) 1969
Peter’s last minor appearance (a bit of acoustic guitar) is
buried pretty deeply on Goffin and King’s “I Won’t Be the Same without Her”, a Nes
production dating back to the earliest Monkees sessions. It is one of many
oldies dusted off for the hodge-podge Instant
Replay. Really, there was enough good recent unused material to assemble a
fine LP, so there was little sense in pulling ancient tracks off the back
shelves. Still, you can’t really complain about the inclusion of this one. “I
Won’t Be the Same without Her” is not as innovative as other early pieces like
“Papa Gene’s Blues” and “Sweet Young Thing”, but it is one gorgeous piece of
melancholy pop. The weaving backing vocals on the pre-chorus make The
Association sound totally unassociated.
19. “You and I”
(from the album Instant Replay) 1969
Between “I Won’t Be the Same Without Her” and “While I Cry”,
the most experimental Monkee is behind the prettiest pieces on Instant Replay, so it’s only fair that
the prettiest Monkee is behind the record’s nastiest track. Davy claimed his
“You and I” was not a reference to his disintegrating band, but it’s hard not
to hear this bitter song in that light. Neil Young is back on guitar, but this
time he’s stinging like a jellyfish. I love the sound of Joe Osborn’s
hard-treble bass guitar, and its great to hear the usually cute Davy work
himself up into such a froth on the vocal. The Monkees’ producers really missed
the boat by not having him sing more tough-ass Rock & Roll numbers like
“You and I”.
20. “French Song”
(from the album The Monkees Present)
1969
The Monkees’ final album as a trio was purer than Instant Replay, but Colgems’ Lester Sill
still made the cowardly decision to include two old tracks. This was an
unfortunate decision because one of them was merely OK (the “Valleri” clone
“Looking for the Good Times”) and the other was dreadful (“Ladies Aid Society”)
and because they made up half of Davy’s allotted one-third of Present. Based on his other half, it’s
clear that he’d been choosing and writing better material, pushing his usual
balladry into less sappy, more mature directions. “If I Knew” is a lot more
tasteful than regrettable schmaltz like “The Day We Fall in Love” and “We Were
Made for Each Other”. Davy’s real stand out on Present is his rendition of Bill Chadwick’s “French Song”, a
mysterious, elliptical number inspired by European film soundtracks. The light
jazz arrangement featuring flute, vibes, chimes, and organ is lovely.
21. “Little Girl”
(from the album The Monkees Present)
1969
Micky decided to fully commit to the whole Monkees thing
again on The Monkees Present. He
wrote or co-wrote three of his contributions to the record (charmingly, his mom
co-wrote the fourth). The best is the record’s opening track, a speedy piece of
jazz-pop called “Little Girl” that Micky sings like a breathy bumblebee. As he
did on “Valleri”, Louie Shelton blazes out stunning guitar licks. “Little Girl”
was featured on a couple of oddball compilations in the eighties but has been
largely forgotten since then (possibly because the main curator of The Monkees’
legacy, Andrew Sandoval, doesn’t seem to have much love for Present—he only included four of its
songs on the two Monkees box sets he assembled). That’s unfortunate for “Little
Girl”, which deserves more attention… much like the other twenty terrific
tracks on this list.
