Sunday, March 04, 2012

Sunday Funday - I'm a Believer

You know-- not so long ago, bands were NOT orchestrated. They were made up of people (friends) who knew each other and each person in a group/band had their own unique gift that they brought to the table. Someone was the bass, the soprano, the drummer, the lead guitar. You get it, right? They weren't for show. They were for music. That all began to change in the mid 60s. The Monkees were THE group that helped change that. They were a group of unknowns, thrown together, made into a group... a moneymaker. When it was found out that they didn't make their own music, the backlash was monumental, but before that, they were the hottest thing on the airwaves.

During the resurgence of the Monkees in the 80s (when Nick at Nite started replaying the show) I was caught in the upswing of new Monkees fans. How could you not love that show? It was like the three stooges (plus one) with music. My parents can attest that my regular play list consisted of the Monkees, Janis Joplin, 60s protest songs... what can I say? I was a strange kid, I guess. I have to say I watched the Monkees because of Davy Jones. He owned the original Bieber haircut! He had an accent and he was about my height (clearly this was before I realized that two short people will generally have short babies...) I swear Davy Jones and Ted Danson are responsible for my interracial dating. Yep, I blame Cheers and the Monkees! ;)

This past week, Davy Jones (dreamboat that he was) passed away. I was actually upset. He always seemed cheerful and every time I saw him on a tv show I would automatically remember him as a goofy teenage on the Monkees, chasing girls and singing songs...about chasing girls. This post is dedicated to my Daydream Believer from one of his Homecoming Queens... RIP Davy.

Daydream Believer

*Our good time starts and ends, without dollar one to spend. But how much, baby, do we really need?

I'm Not Your Stepping Stone

*You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose; but you won't find my name in your book of who's who's

Pleasant Valley Sunday

*Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, here in status symbol land. Mothers complain about how hard life is, and the kids just don't understand.


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