Carrying on the Music Writer's Exercise (#MWE) from February 2015 and 2016, each day I listen to a new album and tweet a brief review of it. Then I compile those tweets in a post with some extra or expanded thoughts.
3/2: Honeyblood – Honeyblood: Closer “Braid Burn Valley” best exemplifies their blend of noise pop and evocative lyrics. Why? Spotify included “Killer Bangs” on my Discover Weekly playlist and I decided to check out the rest of their stuff. Additional Thoughts: I enjoy this album. I love the drive and bounce of “Killer Bangs” and how “Joey” and “Bud” show flares of 50s/60s girl groups. However, I feel like it leans too heavily on reverb and Smith-esque haze, especially in the beginning. And of course I’ve enjoyed dream pop type stuff in the past, but getting heavy with reverb can lead to problems. Not only can it cause multiple songs to run together and become less distinct (which can work, but doesn’t always), but it can also hurt individual songs and hamper reaching their full potential. Take “Fortune Cookie,” which has a great melody but buries the vocals under so much fuzz and haze. That said, Honeyblood has potential, so I look forward to keeping up with them. 3/3: Otis Redding & Carla Thomas – King & Queen: “Are You Lonely For Me, Baby?” allows them to both blend and hold their own. Why? I’ve been working through Redding’s discography since he’s been on my list for a while. Additional Thoughts: It’s… okay. Unfortunately, I don’t know if this is due to how it was recorded or how it was mixed, but Otis sounds far away. Not metaphorically either. He sounds backed up away from the microphone and/or Carla. Once I noticed it, I couldn’t ignore it and it really hurts the album. It’s a duet record, after all, part of the appeal is the interplay and chemistry between the performers and it’s hard to pick up on that when one of them sounds like he’s five feet away most of the time. That said, Carla does have a lovely voice, Otis is great, of course, and “Lovey Dovey” is an awesome track with some great interaction. 3/8: Otis Redding – The Dock of the Bay: Bittersweet that this posthumous release contains some of his happiest tracks. Why? Finishing up his discography. Additional Thoughts: I can’t go too deep into this compilation here, because it’s part of the RS500. However, I will say that this is where I’m going to stop with his work, at least as far as the daily album tweets are concerned. A couple of his other posthumous releases and concert recordings are on the RS500 and I’ll probably get to them eventually. I have very conflicted feelings when it comes to any artist’s posthumous work, but I made an exception for this one since it was released quite close to his death. Also, it’s apparently mostly B-sides and older album tracks, which isn’t the same as releasing unfinished demos or stuff that had been shelved. 3/8: Lily & Madeleine – Keep It Together: Sometimes jangley, sometimes trippy, always held together by ethereal vocals. Why? 2016 release. Additional Thoughts: It’s alright. I like the music itself and the mood I think the album might be going for, but I still wish there was more variety in the vocals. The album already has a 60s/70s soft rock sorta vibe, which can make distinguishing the individual song difficult and the vocals staying at mostly the same intensity and emotion throughout adds to that difficulty. But I dig the beat of “Hotel Pool” and “Hourglass,” which is one of the more upbeat tracks, relatively speaking. The lyrics didn’t jump out at me much, except for one very relatable line from “Westfield,” which goes “Talk about the next five years, it makes me feel weird.” 3/10: Whitney Houston – Just Whitney: A sonic back to basics with great vocals, but the spotlight has taken its toll. Why? I’ve been working through her studio discography as well. Additional Thoughts: I mean, it definitely has its strengths and good songs, but damn a lot of it is uncomfortable to listen to and I doubt my discomfort is just a result of everything that occurred in Whitney’s life afterward. There’s no way this content wasn’t uncomfortable for some to listen to in the wake of the “crack is whack” debacle, especially songs like “Unashamed,” “Whatchulookinat,” “Try It On My Own,” and “Tell Me No” (“Tell me no and I’ll dig my feet right in.”) I feel like there’s a fine line between defiant and defensive and “Tell Me No” “Whatchulookinat” in particular fit into the latter for me. There’s also the awkward juxtaposition of “My Love,” a duet with Bobby Brown, and sort of pre-break up song “Dear John Letter,” the one track Whitney receives a writing credit on. I mean, given their subsequent divorce lyrics like “I tried to stay, but it never got better” ring far more true than they’re attempt to prove the strength of their love. I wish I could listen to this record literally any other way, but that seems impossible. 3/11: Cardiknox – Portrait: Their anthemic synthpop falls flat for me, but “Supermodel” and “Bloodlust” show potential. Why? New release and I saw they’re on tour with Carly Rae Jepsen, which piqued my interest. Additional Thoughts: Let me be honest, it’s not a terrible album, really. However, as someone who listens to a lot of synthpop this was sort of run of the mill. That said, it could be a decent intro into genre and style and given CRJ’s recent work I can see why they were chosen for the tour. Still. In addition to all the synthpop I listen to, another problem with this record that I just can’t ignore is vocalist Lonnie Angle’s pronunciation and inflection. I don’t know why, it just causes a visceral reaction in me and breaks any immersion I could’ve had. It’s not any one word and it happens throughout the record, so I can’t pin it down or really avoid it. So, yeah, not a record for me. 3/15: Esperanza Spalding – Emily’s D+Evolution: Exceptional and lovely with a seamless combination of jazz and prog rock. Why? 2016 release. Additional Thoughts: While I do think great works can and do need as much (if not more) examination and analysis as bad ones, sometimes I find actually doing so to be very difficult. Emily’s D+Evolution is one such example, an album that just oozes greatness and by a brilliant artist who can more than certainly speak and show for herself. I think my original tweet stands as a good summation with tracks like “Earth to Heaven” being exemplary of my description. That track also might work as a good gauge for whether or not one might like the album as a whole, as would “Ebony and Ivy” which has a fantastic acapella opening. The album also contains a cover of “I Want It Now” from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, which totally works in context and on its own. Another quick note, Esperanza plays both double bass and bass guitar and it definitely shows in her work, such as “Judas” and the general funkiness throughout the record. 3/17: Whitney Houston – One Wish: The Holiday Album: The funk-infused “Deck the Halls/Silent Night” is a major highlight. Why? Working through her non-soundtrack work. Additional Thoughts: I very nearly repeated the tweet I wrote about Hanson’s Christmas album, Snowed In, because this is the Christmas album I’d expect from Whitney. I find in a lot of music writing when an artist is described as doing what is expected of them it’s meant as a negative, but that’s not my intent. I mean, sure, sometimes it is a bad thing and with good reason; what’s the point in going on as an artist if you’re out of ideas and just covering yourself? But, meeting expectations or “being predictable” isn’t always bad in and of itself. Consider Christmas music as an example, very few modern songs have been added to the Christmas song canon, because no matter what, people like some familiarity and there’s comfort in knowing what you’ll get from something. Anyway, Whitney! Her Christmas record is a lot of classy soul/R&B and gospel, which again, seems very appropriate coming from her. Some good examples of this would be the cover of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” and “O Come O Come Emmanuel,” which focus a lot on the vocals, appropriately. I already mentioned it in the tweet, but I think the reason I love “Deck the Halls/Silent Night” so much is that so many renditions of “Silent Night” are, understandably, quite somber, so it’s nice to hear one that’s so joyous. Another highlight is the adorable though very bittersweet “Little Drummer Boy” with Bobbi Kristina Brown. I don’t even know what else to say about that song, except it makes me wish so badly that so many things had turned out different. But, yes, this is a great record and likely one of her best. 3/29: She Is We – War: The soul of “Fight for Me” stands out among the electro-pop tracks that tend to blend together. Why? 2016 release. Additional Thoughts: Another big problem I had with this album is Rachel Taylor’s (She Is We) tendency to do the singing-through-Novocain indie girl voice. It’s a big pet peeve of mine, which I am very aware, not everyone shares, as evidenced by the success of Lorde and others. The lyrics were also a big problem for me and I’m not entirely sure why. Often it seems like Rachel is going for open and blunt, but something about it doesn’t work (such as the line, “Hanging by my heartstrings”) and she ends up sounding like she wanted to be overwrought and melodramatic but fell short. But this album appears to be Rachel's first time writing about her own experiences and point of view, so perhaps that explains it and she will improve with time. 3/30: The Coathangers – Suck My Shirt: Punk that knows when to bounce, growl, and swing, but not when to stop a track. Why? Amazon recommended it to me because of my search for Honeyblood. Additional Thoughts: Okay, let’s start with some positives: “Drive” is bouncy fun with a 50s/60s flare, “Smother” has great energy, and “Merry Go Round” feels like a dark Franz Ferdinand track. Now. Maybe one issue is that I’m just not connecting to this album, but I do stand by my original tweet. They certainly have good ideas, energy, and hooks and they know how to start a good song, but when it comes to developing them or knowing a good time to end them, not so much. I mean, the opener “Follow Me” goes on maybe two minutes longer than it needs to, which is not a could indication for the rest of the record. Even a short track like “I Wait,” it clock in at only about two minutes and still could’ve used a trim. “Zombie” has something of a coda, but for the most part they seem to have one idea and that’s it, the songs don’t build or change much once they start and if they do go longer than two minutes it feels like they’re just filling the time for the sake of it. 3/31: Whitney Houston – I Look To You: Sadly, “I Didn’t Know My Own Strength” is painful now instead of inspirational. Why? Finishing up her non-soundtrack discography. Additional Thoughts: I don’t really have much to say about this album. I think the disco-y “Million Dollar Bill” and “Call You Tonight” are some of the best tracks, but even they don’t reach anything beyond “pretty nice.” Again, “I Didn’t Know My Own Strength” is quite hard to listen to in retrospect and the same goes for “A Song For You,” which is a decent tune, but takes on a bittersweet feeling with lyrics like “And when my life is over remember when we were together.” Granted, it’s better than Just Whitney, but it still sucks that what turned out to be her last record ended up so lackluster. All albums available to stream on Spotify. If you'd like to suggest an album, comment on this entry, tweet me, or ask on Tumblr.
Before we get into the episode I wanted to start this post with a “Monkees Primer,” of sorts, because it occurred to me recently that I did just jump into the show itself and never gave proper background for it. As I’ve mentioned before with regard to spoilers, I do tend to assume that anyone reading these posts has some knowledge of or familiarity with the show, but passing over that background entirely still feels like a huge oversight on my part. Plus, it’ll become even more important once the discussion turns to subjects like Head and 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee, so it’s better to lay the groundwork now. And if you are familiar with the background, don’t worry, this will be a very, very condensed Cliffs Notes version of the series beginnings. After being inspired by the Beatles in A Hard Day’s Night, Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider (the filmmakers behind Raybert Productions) began developing a show about a fictional group. Eventually, production company Screen Gems bought the idea and auditions looking “for 4 insane boys” and “spirited Ben Frank’s-types” began in the fall of 1965. Out of the four hundred who auditioned, Micky Dolenz (drums), Mike Nesmith (guitar), Davy Jones (percussion), and Peter Tork (bass) landed the main roles. Micky and Davy had previous acting experience (Micky in the show Circus Boy referenced in “Monkees at the Circus” and Davy in musicals such as Oliver!), while Mike and Peter had focused on their music with Peter primarily being a folk singer and Mike pursuing singing/songwriting as well as publishing his work before The Monkees. One could argue that their musical history contributed to their eventual dissatisfaction with how the Monkees’ music was made and then perceived. Initially, that side of the Monkees was handled by music supervisor Don “the Man with the Golden Ear” Kirshner, a team of songwriters (such as Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart and Gerry Goffin & Carole King), and studio musicians while the Monkees shared lead vocal duties (again, like the Beatles.) There were exceptions to this, including their concerts and tracks like “Papa Genes Blues,” which was written by Mike and included Peter on banjo, I believe, after Mike argued for Peter’s inclusion. In addition, the mid-sixties saw a growing importance placed on the notion and appearance of ““authenticity”” and playing one’s own music (instead of simply covering pop standards as had largely been the case prior to acts like Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, the Beatles, etc.) as a result ““real”” musicians didn’t much appreciate the manufactured nature of the group. Hence, the “is it true you don’t play your instruments?” question in the interview segment that ended “Monkees At The Movies.” So, between the group’s growing frustrations and releasing material that had not been cleared, Don Kirshner was fired around March 1967 and the Monkees became the primary players on their third record, Headquarters, released in May 1967. Which leads us to “Monkees On Tour,” an episode that documents the group’s January 21, 1967 show in Phoenix, Arizona and served as the finale for season one on April 24, 1967. And I’ll be honest here, part of why I chose to do a Monkees Primer now instead of waiting is because episode summaries tend to take up a big portion of these posts and that’s not really possible with “On Tour.” It’s pretty straightforward in terms of what happens and shows them on stage, backstage, with screaming fans, with calm fans, at the hotel, at a radio station and each of them roaming on their own. I like the chance to see them perform, but I can’t help but feel as frustrated as I do when I see Beatles performance footage. Like, I totally get being an excited fangirl, but when I watch this stuff I wish the damn seagulls would just shut. up. Keep in mind that I’m the type to get very irritated when audience members scream during a quiet moment in a song or when an artist talks in concert, so the constant stream of shouting utterly ruins footage like this for me. I want to hear the band, not the nonsense of an audience high on themselves, but that’s impossible because some people are just obnoxious. I don’t want to go off on a full rant, so I’ll stop here by saying that I will never understand the point of going to see an artist’s show if you’re not going to listen or have any regard for the artist and your fellow audience members. That’s all.
Another thing that sticks out to me is that while I love the silly moments, like Davy messing with a swan or them taking over a radio station, what stays with me the most is the sorta melancholy of the second half, like Mike’s “someday… someday,” Peter’s “a little green and a little quiet,” or Davy’s “it looked lonely.” I don’t know if it was necessarily meant to be serious or sad, but that’s how it makes me feel. Maybe part of why it does is due to these more personal, introspective moments being intercut with the very public, energetic, and loud concert and how that perhaps unintentionally highlights how isolating touring specifically and fame in general can be. Or maybe it makes me feel that way because “On Tour” is another episode that I haven’t watched very often and for the longest time my main memory of it was Micky talking about how he wants to build “something that’ll last” and “something I can say is my own.” I can’t really verbalize exactly why that particular moment made me feel sad. I guess the best way I could put it is that it made me sad to think that maybe he gave up what he truly wanted in favor of something else and I always hoped that he was able to realize that goal in some way. In fact, a few years ago he started a furniture company with one of his children, so maybe it fulfills that dream for him, at least I hope so. And on that note, that brings us to the end of “Monkees On Tour” and The Monkees season one! Even though it’s taken me way longer than I wanted to get the project to this point it’s still been quite fun to reminisce and become reacquainted with the show. I’m really looking forward to diving into season two and those posts will start the week of January 8th. Until then!
“Monkees At The Movies” begins with the band playing checkers on the beach. Soon director Luthor Kramm sees what he thinks is them doing a “typical new dance step” and approaches them to be extras in his new beach movie, I Married A Creature From Outta Town. The movie stars “perfect teenager” Frankie Catalina (played by Bobby Sherman), who can’t sing, can’t act, can’t surf, and fears girls. During a scene involving a volleyball game, Frankie throws a tantrum because he thinks Davy is trying to upstage him and proceeds to insult the others when they come to Davy’s defense. But “he doth abuse the Monkees at his own peril,” which leads to everything from his makeup to his cue cards and even full shots being sabotaged by the band. While going over dailies, he sees the Monkees’ actions and quits the movie, believing the sabotage to be a result of Kramm’s resentment toward him. After Davy draws the short straw, the others try to convince Kramm to cast him as Frankie’s replacement. Their schemes work, but maybe too well as they quickly fear the stardom has gone to Davy’s head.
This episode’s alright. It’s not as aggressively filler as “Manhattan,” but it’s also not as great as, say, “On the Line” or “One Man Shy.” It moves fast and the romps are fun, so I think that helps. On the other hand, the pace is detrimental when it comes to the idea that fame had gone to Davy’s head. The show establishes Frankie as a longtime movie star and jerk right from the jump, but Davy becomes arrogant before he even steps foot on set as a lead actor. It doesn’t make much sense and I feel like it might’ve made more sense to just cut that angle entirely. As I’ve said I’m sure many times, they have about twenty-five minutes per episode, so I know concessions will be made and certain corners cut. I’m not expecting nuanced, detailed stories here, but I’m still going to point out when I think things don’t work. And speaking of things that don’t work, that hideous wig Bobby and Davy have to wear. Yuck. I bet if this were a season two episode that ugly thing probably would’ve been the source of their arrogant behavior. But, alas.
Another notable thing about “Movies” is once again the interview segment. Davy’s story about his brother-in-law arresting a guy while dressed in Monkee merchandise is hilarious, but a more pertinent discussion brought up here relates to the Monkees’ concerts and whether they play their instruments during them, which is itself just an extension of the ““““controversy”””” (in heavy air quotes) about how much they write and play on their records. I think it’s notable, in part, because it’s an interesting lead-in to the next episode “Monkees On Tour,” a mini-documentary of said tour. Also, I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure this instance is the first time the whole authenticity stuff made its way onto the show proper and the fallout from the breakdown of Monkees-kayfabe greatly shaped the Monkees’ image, music, show, and beyond from here on out, for good and ill.
Carrying on the Music Writer's Exercise (#MWE) from February 2015 and 2016, each day I listen to a new album and tweet a brief review of it. Then I compile those tweets in a post with some extra or expanded thoughts.
"Monkees In Manhattan” begins as the band arrives at an NYC hotel in order to meet with McKinley Baker, an unknown Broadway producer who wants the band to star in his new musical. They spent all their money on the bus trip, so Baker offers to let them stay in his suite until he receives money from his financial backer. The boys accept, but soon the hotel manager, Mr. Weatherwax, threatens to throw Baker out for lack of payment. The manager refuses Baker’s promise for payment once he meets with his backer and gives them an hour to leave, so the boys must stall for the three hours until Baker’s backer meeting. Unfortunately, once the backer backs out, the boys then have to find a new one to save the show and find a way to pay the hotel. Oh, boy, what a load of nothing. I don’t even know what to say here, because this does feel like mostly filler. Even the romps are kinda boring and contain mostly clips from other, better episodes. And yeah, it’s not rare for the show to recycle, but in this case, it’s difficult to ignore when the results don’t amount to much and the rest of the story doesn’t amount to much either. Like the plot itself, the show is just stretching for time until something better comes along. The only redeemable and not recycled (and not rabbit related) aspect of “Manhattan” is the interview section at the end. All of the clips are endearing in their own ways, but the most adorable is likely the one that shows Davy and Peter goofing around with their makeup artist, Keeva, But y’know what? Here, just watch it:
“Monkees Get Out More Dirt” should be subtitled “Laundry Day Is A Very Romantic Day,” because when the boys stop by the laundromat and go looking for soap, all four quickly fall for the owner, April Conquest. Upon returning home, they each concoct a reason (from sick aunts to dog food) to immediately go back and visit her at work where they find her working on her doctor’s thesis in laundry science. They return home again only to pace around the pad for a bit being snippy at each other before watching Dr. Sisters advice show in which she claims to win the girl you want through her mind and learning “the kind of man she likes and then be that man.” This leads each of the boys to call April and other people in her life to find out her interests and hobbies, including pop art, ballet, chamber music, and motorcycles, and taking them on in order to impress her. Unfortunately, the plan works a little too well with April proclaiming, “Oh, I love you all” and pushing her close to a nervous collapse. Her nerves lead her to close her laundromat one day and the boys worry it could cost her the business, so they decide to choose one of them for her while the others let her down easy. I’ll say, for an episode based on a love pentagon it’s lighthearted. I mean, at no point did I ever think the band was in danger, unlike “Success Story” which had an ominous cloud hanging over it during that first watch. “Dirt” does put them, ostensibly, into competition with each other, but they don't really lose sight of their friendship (as shown by Peter’s letter to Dr. Sisters) nor do they allow it to hurt April and her business. They do snip at each other a bit and split the pad into quarters for a brief moment, so any beef between them is relatively minor and short-lived. It’s a nice change of pace from other love triangles-rectangles-tetradecagons where people damn near want to slit each other’s throats, no matter how good of friends they were. Then again, this particular pentagon centers on the try-to-describe-her-and-not-use-the-word-statuesque Julie Newmar, so who could really blame them if they did become so blinded by infatuation they threw it all away? I mean, if a chick were to come between the band it might as well be the only Catwoman. My other prompt for this episode says, “Wait, how old are they supposed to all be again? (thirty year old teenagers.)” If April’s working on her doctor’s thesis, she’s gotta be about twenty-three, twenty-four, at least, right? Meanwhile, Mike’s twenty-one and Davy’s young enough to still have a legal guardian. Hell, forget age differences, April apparently has multiple degrees and her own business, why is she even giving a bunch of broke “teenagers” a second glance? Especially when they lied to her from the start. Yeah, let’s be honest, they didn’t really deserve her anyway.
In “Monkees On The Line” Mike decides the band should hire an answering service, since not being home or answering the phone when they are around could cost them gigs. When they try to negotiate a lower rate at the Urgent Answering Service, the lone operator offers them a job with service included on top of the regular pay. They accept and she goes to Jamaica, but not before she establishes the main rule: “Don’t get involved with the clients.” It takes all of one phone call before that rule is thrown right out the window, because Mike encounters a client, Ellen Farnsby, he believes is suicidal. (*jazz hands* Comedy! But fear not, she’s simply an actress using the service to rehearse and “live [her] part” for a play.) While Mike and Micky run to check on her, Davy and Peter take over the phones, only for Davy to leave in search of the recipient of an urgent message from “Zelda-baby” and get caught in a circular chase sequence with a cop and his angry wife. Left to his own devices, Peter schedules what he thinks is a gig for a band and ends up hidden in the wall after pushing a red button. Eventually the misunderstandings come to a head in another chase around a giant telephone.
Like I said last time, perhaps on paper this seems too weird or silly, but it’s all in the execution and the execution here is brilliant. In fact, if I had to pick this might be my favorite episode of season one. It’s simply hilarious and the writing and performances are on point, though it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that to me Mike is the absolute star of this episode. He frequently has great facial expressions (see "Monkee Chow Mein"), but “On The Line” is loaded with absurd Mike faces. Given that he’s generally the level-headed straight man of season one (to the extent that it even has one), it’s fun to watch him go off the wall and over the top with his performance. And while I love the bonkers stuff, I gotta say that one of my favorite moments is Mike’s relatively dry delivery of “No, I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number we don’t have a telephone.” My only real complaint would be Davy’s assertion that Mike got involved with Ellen’s situation because he was “kinda hooked on” her. Right, because there is no other reason why someone might be concerned when another person claims they’re so lonely they “can’t go on” and want “to end it all.” Yeah, nope, no. No other possible reason. Empathy for a fellow person in distress? Basic decency and compassion? Nah! He just wanted on her because hysterical phone calls are so damn hot. Jeez. Though he says, “How could I not?” in response to Davy and babbles about masculinity, most of Mike’s reaction makes it seem like maybe he did it to be the hero, so to speak, or at least wants to look that way to the others. An idea not nearly as out of character for him considering much of the show characterizes him as someone who helps people, be they his friends or others, such as in “Monkees Vs Machine,” “Don’t Look A Gift Horse In The Mouth,” and even the ending of “I’ve Got A Little Song Here.” Could it be that I’m just blind, since he’s favorite? Maybe, but for now I’m sticking to my guns and my dislike. Finally, given that the very concept of an answering service was something of an anachronism by the time I got into the Monkees, I must echo Mike’s confusion, how do you tell which one is ringing?
“Monkee Mother” begins with Mr. Babbitt, armed with a list of complaints, kicking the Monkees out of the pad. He claims the new tenant will be there any minute, said tenant is Milly, a widow with a stuffed parrot (Lewis) and dog (Martin.) As Milly begins to settle in and arrange her belongings the boys confront her about how they were living there first. She responds with “So live!” that she’s had boarders before, a label the boys don’t take too kindly toward. Despite some heartwarming bonding moments with her, they decide the arrangement still isn’t working out once Milly brings over visitors in the form of her noisy relatives and an English girl she met at the store. Micky suggests that she really wants is a new husband and they decide to set her up with Larry, the mover who helped her into the pad and seemed to take a liking to her. The pair quickly marries and during the wedding Mr. Babbitt apologizes for inconveniencing the boys, because he wasn’t too fond of Milly’s visitors either. After the wedding, Milly says goodbye her “darling boys” with some advice and a promise to visit them “soon,” that is, that night. This one’s a heart-squeezer, folks, and I love it so much. In the words of Miss Truvy Jones, “Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.” “Monkee Mother” certainly fits that bill if you’re a big ol’ sap like me. As I said, there are some bonding moments between the boys and Milly and they all happen one right after the other and it just leaves me in pieces. The worst (best?) is the moment when Mike looks at her so, so sincerely and says, “Make me a success.” Ugh! I’m tearing up right now writing about it! Cap off the sequence with “Sometime in the Morning” and forget it, I’m destroyed. I love the comedy of The Monkees, that much should be obvious by now, I hope, but I love the rare, little moments of emotion and drama as well, so much so that they tend to define their respective episodes in my mind. Like, I can’t think of “Success Story” without thinking of “Shades of Gray” and Davy saying goodbye. Likewise, as hilarious as this episode is, for me it will always be about those times when Milly and the boys find a connection and learn to like each other despite all their differences and the fact that living in the same house didn’t work for them. And the episode is hilarious. Rose Marie, in her second Monkees role after the Big Man, and the guys play off each other really well in both the comedic and dramatic scenes. I think my favorite line comes from Davy, “Listen, don’t worry, man, she’ll find somethin’ to do with yeh,” which may not seem all that funny on paper, but it’s all in the delivery, trust me. The songs included in this episode are fantastic, too. I already mentioned “Sometime in the Morning,” probably one of the best Monkees ballads. It’s one of those songs that’s so sweet and so beautiful it makes my chest ache. The episode also features “Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow,” which I love and is made even better by Peter and Mike being utterly adorable during the performance. Lastly, I’m once again left confused by notes Past Me made regarding one of these recaps. The note in question this time says, “’I don’t care’ about ‘cupcakes in sour cream.’” …’Kay. Obviously, this is a reference to the only words Clarisse seems to know and Davy’s advice to Larry, respectively, but I don’t remember what exactly this was meant to prompt me to talk about. Only answer I can come up with is that it was about the humor and quotable lines, but surely, there had to be a more direct way doing that. Eh. Hopefully as I get into a routine where my note-taking and post-writing happen more closely together I won’t run into this issue as much.
“Monkee Chow Mein” begins with Mike, Davy, and Micky eating in a Chinese restaurant while Peter fills a giant doggie bag with food. While leaving he dumps a plate of fortune cookies into his bag and grabs another off a waiter’s plate. This seemingly innocent action leads the waiter to shout “He has the cookie, stop him!” as the other restaurant patrons and spies gather around him. Mike yanks Peter out of the crowd and the band flees the restaurant before they can be caught, only to then run into agents from the Central Intelligent Service who take them to headquarters for questioning. After some attempts to explain that Peter likes to feed cookies “to a dog we don’t have,” the agents eventually realize the band’s innocence and non-involvement in the goings-on of the restaurant. They explain to the boys that the cookie contained information about a chemical weapon they’d developed called the Doomsday Bug, which had been stolen by a spy ring with a second-in-command called the Dragonman. Despite the inspector’s warnings, the boys nervously head home with Micky certain they’re being followed. After multiple kidnapping attempts, threats of torture, “bad food and drugs,” and costume changes, it’s up to the Monkeemen to bring down Dragonman and, his boss, Mr. Big. Right. So, this is gonna be another one of those awkward episodes to talk about, because it is quite racist against Asians and Chinese folks, in particular. Like I’ve said before, I don’t think problematic elements automatically make a work worthless, but I also wouldn’t blame someone for skipping over it due to them. It’s a complicated issue. Part of me finds the old “It’s from the 60s, what do you expect” line, while true to an extent, riddled with its own problems. Racism is alive and well, folks. You can’t really get away with “well, that’s how it was then” when stuff like yellowface and stereotyping in fiction goes on to this day. Then again, I do think it’s slightly unfair to place our current standards onto older media, especially when comedy in particular often ages quickly and badly. For me, talking about these issues isn’t about ripping something to shreds, but about acknowledging the problems so that we can do and expect better going forward. In the case, the problematic elements are made all the more frustrating by the moments are good and kinda subversive. Early in the episode, after the band’s been chased out of the restaurant, Mike says, “Well, you never can tell, Orientals [cringe] are a curious people,” which is soon followed up with “I don’t know, occidentals [westerners] are a curious people” when the C.I.S. agents pick them up. But the best moment comes when Toto accidentally kidnaps Micky and says, “Forgive me, master, but all American look alike to me,” a play on the racist notion that all Asians look alike. Of course, the episode still hinges on stereotypes and yellowface, so I could understand the little moments of subversion not really making up for it. And yet, I can’t deny that I have affection for this episode. When I was young and first getting into the show, it was a big favorite. Peter’s “Miiiiike!” and the Monkeemen scene always did me in. Honestly, those and all the other bits that always made me laugh and made me love it then, still make me laugh, even though it also makes me cringe hard at times. As I said before, this stuff is complicated. Luckily, the coming string of episodes are some of my favorites and hopefully won’t as a cringe-inducing and awkward to talk about. Oh, wait… Miss Farnsby is coming up. Shit!
