While examining “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone” in his book Long Title: Looking for the Good Times:
Examining The Monkees’ Songs, One by One, Michael A. Ventrella writes,
“I’ve never been much of a fan of this song. I’m not sure why; I can’t really
point to anything wrong with it.” Hmm. Are you sure you’re the best person to
be examining The Monkees’ songs one by one? Because I expect better insight
than what Ventrella and his co-author, Mark Arnold, try to pass off as analysis
in this book. “I don’t know why I don’t like this; I just don’t” may cut the mustard
in a Facebook comment, but it does not belong in a book. And beginning that
book by stating, “neither Mark nor I claim to be Monkees experts” does not give
you a pass when it comes to the facts either. If I’m reading a book about any
topic, I expect the writers to really know what they are talking about, to do
as thorough a job of tackling their goal as possible. And there certainly is a
lot one could do with a book examining a discography like The Monkees’. There
were so many composers, so many musicians, so many influences, so many genres
attempted, so many varying circumstances under which the music was made, so
much variation in quality. In a sense, The Monkees’ body of work is much riper
for analysis than The Beatles’ because it is so all over the place.
The problem isn’t the approach. I like the format of two
people basically rapping about songs they like and dislike, and I don’t need
complex music theory-based explanations for why a song is or isn’t up to snuff.
However, I do expect some basic musical knowledge. I expect the writers to know
what an “arpeggio” is and use that term instead of a “chord being played string
by string” and know the difference between a cuica and “someone making gorilla noises.” I expect the writer of a book about The Monkees to not be mystified
by why the corporately created “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You” was not
included on the band created Headquarters and to know such basic Monkees history as the fact that “Goin’ Down” was based
on an arrangement of “Parchman Farm”. I expect the writing to read like…well…
writing and not a transcribed conversation full of grammatically challenged sentences such as “this song shows a little bit too much strings.” I expect enough attention to detail
to recognize that the first recorded version of “You Just May Be the One” is
very different from the band version on Headquarters
and not “about the same” as it. I expect that entries on recordings so
inessential that they prompt one of the writers to comment “I didn’t even want
to list all these in the book” to be edited out. I certainly expect more
insight than “I don’t know why I don’t like this; I just don’t.”
These are not minor criticisms, but there are things I like
about Long Title: Looking for the Good
Times: Examining The Monkees’ Songs, One by One (that title is not one of
them though. These guys really could have used an editor). I like the fact that
Ventrella and Arnold are not super fans, that they are willing to criticize
some of The Monkees’ most beloved recordings and find more divisive things such
as “Writing Wrongs”, the studio version of “Circle Sky”, and “Shorty Blackwell”, lovable. I appreciated bits of
lesser known trivia, such as the allegation that Boyce and Hart’s decision to
have The Monkees record such gruel as “Teeny Tiny Gnome” and “Ladies Aid
Society” inspired Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider to hand music supervising
duties over to Don Kirshner. I certainly love the fact that a couple of writers
realized that The Monkees’ discography was rich and fascinating enough to
deserve song-by-song analysis. I just think that task should have been
performed by writers more willing to take the task seriously.