Review: The Monkees, Royal Concert Hall
SATURDAY teatimes, Easter holidays, the best thing on TV when I was a kid (as well as the Banana Splits and Tiswas) was The Monkees. They were funny, cute (we all loved Davy), zany and the music, to my young ear, was groovy - almost as good as my mum's copy of Hard Day's Night. Hey, hey, they were the American Beatles (apart from Davy, of course).
I was watching 1970s repeats, but can you really believe that the seminal sound and look of The Monkees is now 45 years old?
The amazing thing that sets The Monkees in the history book of glorious pop, is that they were never formed for their music. Formed via an advert in a Hollywood newspaper looking for four well-groomed and safe, mop-top, pin-ups for a TV comedy show, Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz, Peter Thorkelson and Michael Nesmith became sensations on both sides of the Atlantic.
Think of the Sixties and you see four long-haired boys running around dressed in orange shirts, tight jeans and cuban heels, being chased by long-haired, mini-skirted lovlies, set to some of the best pop music ever written - well, I do anyway.
And it's little wonder the music was so good, given that it was written by some of the most renowned songwriters in American pop history: Gerry Goffin and Carole King, Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwhich, Neil Sadaka, Neil Diamond, Carole Bayer Sager - as well as The Monkees themselves.
Their look and sound and the notion that four boys could live together in a beach house making music has inspired countless garage bands, indie groups and other TV shows - remember S Club 7?
But it was 45 years ago. And Michael Nesmith is no longer among the Pre-fab Four, so what on earth could three, let's facing 'aging' actors/pop stars give in a live show that wouldn't turn out to be, well, a little sad? I certainly didn't want my huge affection for the group to be diminished.
The set of this, the last leg of their UK tour, started with a film montage of those mad-cap days which almost brought a lump to my throat - a bit like when I went to see Hard Day's Night at the Broadway cinema. You feel so happy to see it, but sad it's all gone.
Then the three bounce on to stage. They're older, sure, but so are the vast majority of the large audience. It doesn't stop them grooving.
And Davy's still the short one, Micky's still the crazy one and Peter's still the slightly wry, musical one.
They blast into I'm a Believer and it couldn't be more apt. Backed by a big band and clips and photos from the shows on the screen behind them, from the first Hammond organ 'toot, toot, toot, toot' and jangly guitar, 'dangely, dangely, dangely, dangely', we're in 1966 baby!
And so the hits roll in. Mary, Mary; The Girl I Knew Somewhere (accompanied by amazing scenes of the four being chased by groovy French girls in Paris) and When Love Comes Knocking On Your Door. Then Micky stops to tell us about the group's trip to London when he met royalty (The Beatles) and the song he wrote inspired by a line from the TV show Til Death Us Do Part. In England it was censored to be called Alternate Title, but we know Randy Scouse Git as the one in which he manically drums the timpani, which he did and it was magic. Then there's more from the soundtrack of my childhood: Look Out Here Comes Tomorrow; Words; Listen to the Band; Sometime in the Morning and Valleri.
Then a break. Well, they are pensioners, they probably needed tea and biscuits. During the interval, adverts I'd never seen before starring The Monkees for a kids' drink and for Rice Krispies kept me entertained...not sure if others even noticed.
Afterwards, we were into the freak-fest that was The Monkees' movie, Head. In late 1967, the band threw themselves into one last epic project; a glorious, doomed feature film. It was released in 1968 and savaged by the press. But it was a masterpiece of Sixties anti-establishment wierdness - much, much better than Magical Mystery Tour. And the hippy-trippy, Beatles-in-India inspired music, with scenes from the film, was indeed magical. And the dads and grandads were even treated to a young belly-dancer on stage. Groovy baby!
After the Porpoise Song it was back to the pop favourites - For Pete's Sake; She; A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You; Shades of Gray and Last Train to Clarksville which is Micky's favourite and the audience are now on their feet. We groove to Stepping Stone, sing along to Daydream Believer and know they'll encore with Pleasant Valley Sunday - surely one of the best social-commentary songs ever recorded.
There were a few numbers dotted around that have been written since the glory, glory days but I don't think I was alone in not knowing them.
We came to be transported back to magical days when the sun shone and guitars jangled and the band didn't disappoint. The show was delivered with the same charm that has been winning hearts since 1966.
Hey, hey, they're The Monkees, they're an older generation, but they've still got something to say.
Sharon Mitchell
I was watching 1970s repeats, but can you really believe that the seminal sound and look of The Monkees is now 45 years old?
The amazing thing that sets The Monkees in the history book of glorious pop, is that they were never formed for their music. Formed via an advert in a Hollywood newspaper looking for four well-groomed and safe, mop-top, pin-ups for a TV comedy show, Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz, Peter Thorkelson and Michael Nesmith became sensations on both sides of the Atlantic.
Think of the Sixties and you see four long-haired boys running around dressed in orange shirts, tight jeans and cuban heels, being chased by long-haired, mini-skirted lovlies, set to some of the best pop music ever written - well, I do anyway.
And it's little wonder the music was so good, given that it was written by some of the most renowned songwriters in American pop history: Gerry Goffin and Carole King, Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwhich, Neil Sadaka, Neil Diamond, Carole Bayer Sager - as well as The Monkees themselves.
Their look and sound and the notion that four boys could live together in a beach house making music has inspired countless garage bands, indie groups and other TV shows - remember S Club 7?
But it was 45 years ago. And Michael Nesmith is no longer among the Pre-fab Four, so what on earth could three, let's facing 'aging' actors/pop stars give in a live show that wouldn't turn out to be, well, a little sad? I certainly didn't want my huge affection for the group to be diminished.
The set of this, the last leg of their UK tour, started with a film montage of those mad-cap days which almost brought a lump to my throat - a bit like when I went to see Hard Day's Night at the Broadway cinema. You feel so happy to see it, but sad it's all gone.
Then the three bounce on to stage. They're older, sure, but so are the vast majority of the large audience. It doesn't stop them grooving.
And Davy's still the short one, Micky's still the crazy one and Peter's still the slightly wry, musical one.
They blast into I'm a Believer and it couldn't be more apt. Backed by a big band and clips and photos from the shows on the screen behind them, from the first Hammond organ 'toot, toot, toot, toot' and jangly guitar, 'dangely, dangely, dangely, dangely', we're in 1966 baby!
And so the hits roll in. Mary, Mary; The Girl I Knew Somewhere (accompanied by amazing scenes of the four being chased by groovy French girls in Paris) and When Love Comes Knocking On Your Door. Then Micky stops to tell us about the group's trip to London when he met royalty (The Beatles) and the song he wrote inspired by a line from the TV show Til Death Us Do Part. In England it was censored to be called Alternate Title, but we know Randy Scouse Git as the one in which he manically drums the timpani, which he did and it was magic. Then there's more from the soundtrack of my childhood: Look Out Here Comes Tomorrow; Words; Listen to the Band; Sometime in the Morning and Valleri.
Then a break. Well, they are pensioners, they probably needed tea and biscuits. During the interval, adverts I'd never seen before starring The Monkees for a kids' drink and for Rice Krispies kept me entertained...not sure if others even noticed.
Afterwards, we were into the freak-fest that was The Monkees' movie, Head. In late 1967, the band threw themselves into one last epic project; a glorious, doomed feature film. It was released in 1968 and savaged by the press. But it was a masterpiece of Sixties anti-establishment wierdness - much, much better than Magical Mystery Tour. And the hippy-trippy, Beatles-in-India inspired music, with scenes from the film, was indeed magical. And the dads and grandads were even treated to a young belly-dancer on stage. Groovy baby!
After the Porpoise Song it was back to the pop favourites - For Pete's Sake; She; A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You; Shades of Gray and Last Train to Clarksville which is Micky's favourite and the audience are now on their feet. We groove to Stepping Stone, sing along to Daydream Believer and know they'll encore with Pleasant Valley Sunday - surely one of the best social-commentary songs ever recorded.
There were a few numbers dotted around that have been written since the glory, glory days but I don't think I was alone in not knowing them.
We came to be transported back to magical days when the sun shone and guitars jangled and the band didn't disappoint. The show was delivered with the same charm that has been winning hearts since 1966.
Hey, hey, they're The Monkees, they're an older generation, but they've still got something to say.
Sharon Mitchell