Not exactly a 'new' release this, but something which seems to finally be reaching our shores in useable quantities and a disc I've had my eye on since first glimpsing it a year or two ago.
Capturing the Monkees on three August '67 dates at Seattle, Portland and Spokane (part of the tour that saw them famously and inadvisably teamed with The Jimi Hendrix Experience until the promoters came to their senses), this album is something of a curiosity, primarily because The Monkees weren't exactly known as reputable musicians at the time. In fact, their four headed beast had become something of a hate figure amongst the genuine musical and acting communities, being arguably neither at all, more puppets who occasionally had a guitar and a set of drums thrown at them in a film studio.
However, the screen friendly Davey, Mike, Peter and Mickey had, by now, started to write and play their own material, and one assumes the recording of these shows was intended to show the world exactly that - the result may well explain why the record didn't see the light of day until 1987 ! As a worrying start, the four inner photos show Mike on maracas, Mickey AND Davey with mics in their hands and Peter on banjo, which inevitably leads to the questions "Who the fuck was playing guitar/drums/organ/bass ?" respectively.
In terms of presentation and running order, the whole thing's a bit ramshackle, but, as you'd expect, several of the band's mid-60s hits are here. "Last Train To Clarksville", "I'm A Believer" and "Forget That Girl" are all present, but a few of the lesser known tracks cause concern. For example, both "Your Auntie Grizelda" and "Cripple Creek" appear, for reasons best known only to the band and their set-list planners. The later provides some entertainment, if only because a hapless Peter Tork introducing a one-man-and-his-banjo squaredance tune to hordes of screaming Monkettes has to be heard to be believed. I guess it's impossible for our modern minds to truly judge a 1967 teen and pre-teen audience's expectations from a pop concert, but my moneys on anything but a hoedown. Truly some bizarre choices, perhaps the strangest I've ever encountered on a live set. The girlies seem to do their best to get into it but, in reality, the band's questionable musicianship just makes the task increasingly difficult with every song - even ten year old girls can tell the difference between a musician and an actor with a banjo.
And, as much as it pains me to say it, Monkee faithful that I am, this is a problem which dogs the album throughout. They made some great recordings once they'd grabbed the wheel of their own steamrolling success, but the standards of the performances here are shaky at best. It doesn't help that, for the most part, the band are reduced to a three piece, with Jones' off mic marraca shaking and "if you squint I look like a bit like a Beatle" role barely registering. The remaining three soldier on, but the resulting jingle jangle, complete with some eratic timekeeping on all their parts, give the impression of one man, having played the band's hits once, thrust into the spotlight guitar in hand, drum on back and asked to do his best until those involved have gathered up their greenbacks and safely left the building.
Sure, there are a few hits so well written that they'd be impossible to completely massacre, and some of their better lesser known numbers too ("The Girl I Knew Somewhere", "Mary, Mary" etc) but each and every one of them falls a mile or two short of their recorded counterparts. The live performance and recording facilities in 1967 may have left a lot to be desired, even by the standards of half a decade later, but these offerings fail even to provide some of the grit and energy that carry the majority of live discs from this era (witness The Beach Boys' "Live In London" (1968), or any number of Hendrix or Cream live sets, legitimate or otherwise). .
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OK, so that's the downer out of the way - no definitive and much needed evidence of The Monkees' validity as a working musical group. Musicianship and set-list aside, though, there is still a good degree of pleasure to be found here, primarily in the band's inter-song banter.
Coming across as far more natural comedians than musicians, Mickey Dolenz's requests to "Take you down the memory lane of music to the year 1966", Tork's insistence that "We tune because we care" and the continued baiting of "What is considered by some to be the world's best looking midget" Davey Jones are perhaps far more akin to the Monkees 1967 knew and loved than the performances they appear wedged in-between. Other moments give the impression that something visual and incredibly amusing is going on on-stage, whilst a selection of impressions, misunderstandings, wild rants and routines that may or may not be scripted scatter themselves across the albums 58 1/2 minutes.
Interestingly, these moments often reveal a band that, despite having become drastically unhip amongst their peers in a short six months, and doing their best to try to change with the times (how often can Mickey Dolenz say the word "beautiful" !?!) remain keen to pander to their sub Beatlemania audience and appear more than happy to flash a smile and wear a trademark bobble-hat. They even manage to set up a mass "flashcube" photograph opportunity for those who've brought their cameras but left the necessary lighting equipment at home. Aaahhhhhh........
To be honest, if its a fun for all the family Monkees hits package your looking for, you'd be best advised to stick to the all encompassing "Definitive Monkees" ??? compilation released a few years back (especially in its double disc, rarities and oddities packed format). But, if you're already Monkee'd up hitswise and want to take a deeper, exposed look at the 60's most musically successful group of screen actors, and a band that would soon willingly destroy itself with the "Head" movie debacle, this is, despite all sixteen of its floors, well worth wasting £15 on.
And, I assure you, it does kinda start to make some sense after the fourth or fifth spin.
Relax.
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