The Monkees - What Am I Doin’ Hangin’ Round?, 1967
Well, shit. I was on a roll for awhile there, but searching for the lost chord had to take a backseat to opening a new store, studying for finals, and all the 300 other things that sort of snuck up on me at the end of November.
I’m hoping to get back on track this week, so hellooooo, new followers! This week will be a good one if you’re just tuning in. Lots of new-old tunes to hear, and— starting Monday— you’ll get one regular song and one Queen song a day so I can make up for all the weeks I missed back there.
But anyway, let’s talk about The Monkees.
My parents are probably directly responsible for my love of the late sixties, having introduced me to all things classic rock at an early age: Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Stones, etc., were all staples in our home (and in our cars, especially) when I was growing up. But as I started delving into music once the internet came around, I started listening to things— like all teenagers do— that drove my parents up the wall.
One of the bands of my teenage rebellion was… The Monkees. I’m serious. It drove my mother crazy. This is a woman who once dressed up as Glen Campbell for Halloween. She puts Andy Williams on a loop as soon as the temperature drops a couple degrees. But The Monkees? Don’t even come at Mama Kim with that pop bullshit. ”They’re a fake band! Are you listening to me? They’re not even a real band.”
WELL, MOM. Around 1966, The Monkees started to branch out from their teevee personas and try on the hats of real musicians. The Monkees were, in fact, a manufactured group that was put on television to sell product, but the talents of Dolenz, Tork, Nesmith, and Jones were too big to ignore. They fought with their label for the most basic of musician rights: playing their own instruments in a recording.
One of the best products of that fight is their 1967 release, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones, Ltd. There are a ton of great songs on this album, including “Pleasant Valley Sunday,” “Cuddly Toy” (a much more polished version of the Harry Nilsson song), and “The Door Into Summer.”
This is my favorite cut, though. It does still contain traces of their television sound, being both lively and poppy. But this whole album is certainly a step in the right direction and was followed by the even better The Birds, The Bees, and The Monkees, a sort of sugar-coated Sgt. Pepper’s.
