Dave's Fiction Warehouse

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Oh, what can it mean?

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davy jones heart attack

You can see why the girls went wild.

I guess this post has to be about Davy Jones. I used to occasionally sneer at the Monkees, back in the day, but I still find myself singing the chorus to “Daydream Believer” whenever it comes on the radio. I know, he didn’t write it. But I don’t think I ever heard a cover as good as the original. I can still see him shaking that stupid tambourine.

What can you say about the Monkees? Quite a bit, but I’m not going to read or repeat any of the tributes now clogging the ether. They were a mediocre band who benefited from some great songwriting talent. The TV show lasted just a couple of seasons, and looking at it today you can see why. They were going for the youthful, high-energy whimsy of the Beatles in Hard Day’s Night, and came pretty close. Too bad it’s the nature of youthful whimsy to quickly become tiresome. Davy Jones still had a pretty good ride. It was only when the Monkees started taking themselves seriously as musicians that their goofy charm evaporated.

My little sister had a huge crush on Davy Jones, of course. So did my wife. Ten-year-old girls are funny that way. You take an extremely cute guy who appears to be as talented as Paul McCartney, put him on a weekly TV show with three guys of lesser cuteness, and they’re falling all over themselves.

Now’s probably a good time to admit this: I liked him too. I think I liked most that he seemed open to self-mockery, that he was never consumed by any phony artistic angst, and that he was happy beating that tambourine. He never pretended to be anything other than second-tier pop singer. He seemed to love his time in the sun. He may have had his dark side, but I always appreciate when celebrities keep that kind of crap to themselves.

Finally, he’s a contemporary. We share a first name and time called the ’60s. He did a guest shot on “The Brady Bunch.” A guy like that dies, only 66, and it makes you realize that the age comes when anything at all can happen, at any time. Like I needed reminding.

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Comments

  1. I’ve said it before, but this is one thing I really like about your writing. You avoid the easy, maudlin nostalgia and sentiment for a nuanced appreciation.

    The Monkees’ song “I’m a Believer” always takes me back to high school typing class (which I guess would be “keyboarding” class these days). Our teacher would play the 45 rpm single of “I’m a Believer” to try to get us to type with some rhythm. I have no idea how she chose that song (it was always the same song), or why it sticks in my memory so clearly.

    • Neil Diamond wrote a lot of songs that tend to stick in your head. “A Little Bit Me, a Little Bit You” is another that tends to get stuck on infinite rotation. Sounds like you had a better typing class than I did …

  2. I, on the other hand, go straight for the maudlin nostalgia. Davy fell in love on every episode of the Monkees, and he always got the girl. I fell in love with him every time, right along with those sappy girls. I didn’t know good music from mediocre – and arguably still don’t – but I remember that silly show as being good fun, and probably the great grand-pappy of the later music video.

    • I agree it was fun to watch. I never missed an episode on the crappy little black-and-white Zenith we had (the one that required a deft touch on the vertical hold knob …)