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Making small thing grand and grand things small.
Erin O'Brien
All Things O'Brien
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28 comments:
The striped pants, people.
Not only the striped, but Bobby Sherman in his blond wig.
True trivia no one should live without: when the series began, there was the kickoff with The Last Train to Clarksville song, etc. They filmed blocks from my home at the Del Mar, CA, train station that was about to be decommissioned. A lot of the episodes on the beach were done within view of my home. All the nubile young ladies of the town lined the streets and we screamed our heads off for those striped pants. Mike Nesmith's legs were approximately as long as I am tall, and . . . man, it's been a long, long time.
Ha! Just the way I remember it! Bridges, desert scenery - no. Heavily treed, hilly area - maybe up in the hills far east of the beach. Beach scenes and driving on California 101 through one of a zillion little beach towns - dead-on. It was a great time and place to be young.
Oh Leslie, thank you for that. I LOVE hearing that sort of stuff!
For sure, Missy. One of few gifts for living long and possessing the memory of an elephant: a few stories to tell. And I have so loved the glimpses you've given me of growing up in a place I've never seen.
I still can't figure out why the Monkees never surpassed the Beatles...
It is the exact reason the words "Go figure" were invented.
You are a girl after my own heart, Erin. Thanks for putting that up.
Because Dan they were shite.
Vince - Not shite, but not great, like the Beatles, only wonderful. Perhaps a confection. Or soft ice cream in a wafer cone. Sandra Bullock, not Katherine Hepburn. No one remembers an orgasm, but everyone remembers holding hands.
Ah come on, you have the likes of Gram Parsons and you mention the monkeys as wonderful.
Lots of different wonderfuls in the world.
But true enough, Vince: if I were spending money, I'd be putting it on the original Flying Burritos Brothers and not the Monkees.
The Monkees evoke a time, perhaps a juvenile time. But Gram, as flawed as he was, will live forever.
Another way of explaining wonderful:
Imagining my teen youth in the 60's without the Monkees is like imagining marriage without sex. It's not important that the sex be good.
Clearly it's time to close the liquor cabinet and go to bed.
The problem is that half of The Monkees were real musicians while the other two were actors--one very experienced (Circus Boy), one relatively new but Very Cute and With an English accent--playing the role of musicians.
So the first album gets made, and all the other musicians--excellent studio people, because we have a television budget--don't get credited on the sleeve or the cover. And all the songs are written by Brill Building experts (Goffin/King, Neil Diamond [the current example], Boyce & Hart [who later tour with the nonmusicians], etc.)
And all is going well. Except that the musicians--especially Nesmith--want to be musicians as much or more than they want to be television stars.
A few albums and a year or two later, the creative desires of the musicians clash with the desires of the show's producer. Leading to the albums getting more and more interesting, and the television show going from attracting the Get Smart audience to the (rather smaller) Frank Zappa audience.
And the whole thing blows up, even without John Lennon bringing in a thief for an accountant and a one-trick pony for a producer.
It is in many ways a more tragic story: four actual musicians could have survived as a band (if not the show), while four actors would have been fine doing what the producer wanted.
But an even balance of actors and musicians could not remain a stable equilibrium, and this song stands almost as much as a tombstone as a tribute.
I swear the moves at the 1:30 mark alone are worth the price of admission.
Harry understands holding hands. **sigh**
Ken, as much as I appreciate that comment (and make no mistake, I absolutely do), it was sort of like being told exactly why that bite of coconut cream pie tastes so heavenly on your tongue and how it will eventually turn into fat and excrement.
Did someone say orgasm?
Hi Dan.
Vince, you need a slice of coconut cream pie. Maybe two.
Jeez Leslie, that IS Bobby Sherman! This just gets better and better.
Sitting in my own office accompanied only by the cat, Virginia Woolf, but still blushing mightily. Why do I know and recall so much about those damned Monkees? I wasn't really a fan except to observe the whoop-dee-doo for a couple of days in Del Mar.
Bobby Sherman's vacuous mugging as he views the film in the video, Monkee faces framed in squares - yike! This was on prime time TV, folks.
Harry said it well: "confection".
Ken may be as twisted as I am with all that Monkee information! And, if I'm not mistaken, Peter Tork was a math teacher who'd finished the school year just before pretending to play that monstrous guitar a few weeks later in the summer.
And to all those who appreciate Gram Parsons: Burritos for sure, but I love him partnered with Emmylou Harris, who was his partner.
Speaking of Emmy Lou, Iris Dement at Kent Stage 8-5-11.
Tickets $200+, rich hippies only, FTW.
Correction, just went to Kent Stage site, got tickets for $27.50. I swear I was at a site that wanted 200+.
Or I was hallucinating.
Or maybe not;
MonkeeMobile on sale $250K
@ philbilly ~ even I, poor hippie, could manage $27.50 for Dement, and would try to manage more, were I in the general area.
Emmylou could kick me in the head and I'd thank her. Thanks for also mentioning Iris!
That is some fine Emmylou and Gram, Leslie. Might have to download it.
Phil, glad to see I wasn't the only Clevelander who didn't make the Solstice party.
I have been checking this comment thread each day. You people are a whole lotta awesome!
I thought I was the only one who couldn't remember my orgasms. I am glad I am not alone.
I like Gram Parsons songs done by others more than by him and I love Emmylou as a harmonizer more than a lead vocalist.
Do you remember the album "Trio?" Emmylou, Linda Ronstadt, and Dolly Parton. It's one of the best.
Here's my shameless self-promotional link (but it's not really about me): http://twinklysparkles.wordpress.com/2011/05/17/gram-parsons-kick/
I don't remember all of the orgasms, nor do I remember all of the hand holding, kisses, dinners, or dates. But I by God sure remember the spectacular ones of all of the above.
Solstice Party?
Dolly Parton +1
Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner
+++1
The Solstice party.
Oh yeah, that Solstice party. 4000 peeps, not bad.
I was feigning ignorance in reference to a series of underground bashes on the lakefront that usta happen a decade or two ago, would not have been surprised to see EOB there at all.
I disavow any knowledge of illegal fireworks and unauthorized nekkid swimming.
Was unsure iffin you were feigning or not, but put up the link for the benefit of the entire readership.
The Philbilly is to notify the O'Brien of any future underground bashes. As for nekked swimming, sure--as long as it's after dark. The O'Brien's chassis ain't quite what it usta be.
Will do, EOB.
Haven't heard of these parties for a long time.
I find lately that I am not as willing to engage in diversions that involve scattering and running from the cops.
I was once caught skinny dipping in the lake with two(count 'em, two) lovely lasses by a Ohio Department of Natural Resources cop. I convinced him I was the owner of a yacht for which I carried a crew gate card at nearby Edgewater Yacht Club. Mostly he was distracted trying not to shine his flashlight on my associates as they dressed. Sucka.
Someone stop me. I'm like a dog with a bone and it's O'Brien's fault. I'm still musing about why I know so much about the stupid Monkees. Today I was online and I saw a news headline that caught my eye. I clicked on the link and it took me to the definitive statement about those Monkees. Go there, people. It's worth 2 seconds of your time if you like to laugh.
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