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multifandomrandomgirl · 1 year ago

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The Ropes That Bind US -Peter Tork x female!reader PART 12

Masterlist:

Taglist: @strawberry-sunset-skies

A few days had passed since Y/N and the boys had gone to the beach, they’d spent most of the time messing around the Pad. Davy gave Y/N a few of his old t-shirts which she hitched to fit better, Peter and Mike found a couple of theirs too which she could use as a dress top. Y/N, Peter and Micky had spent a lot of time playing music together, they had convinced her to sing ‘Love Me Tender’ by Elvis which had made Peter fall for her more, her voice was velvet-like whilst singing that song and he couldn’t help but be in awe of her.

They were all currently sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N had made them all breakfast, which despite having been made from whatever scraps they had left, tasted better than anything any of them could have put together. While they were eating, an envelope fell through the letterbox at the front door, Davy had gone to pick it up, and his eyes widened when he realised it was addressed to Y/N.

��Hey, Y/N. This came for you.” He passed the letter to the girl as he sat back down and dug back into his breakfast. Mike and Peter glanced at each other nervously. Y/N thanked Davy and then slid her finger under the seal of the envelope, she pulled out a piece of paper, she read it in silence before throwing it down and fleeing the Pad via the backdoor which lead straight to the beach. The boys looked at each other in confusion, Mike who had sat to the left of Y/N picked the letter up before either Davy or Micky could stick their noses into it.

Mike scanned the letter, and sure enough, he found what he had feared he would. It was a simple and plain letter, nothing much had been said.

Dear Y/N.

Nice to know you’re alive.

It’s also nice to know you’ve found friends as you may need them.

We no longer have space for you, we moved on after a month as we knew we had no hopes of finding you. Sorry, but we don’t need you back in our lives. Stay where you are if they want to keep you, but don’t come home or write here ever again.

Mom and Dad.

Mike frowned at the half-arsed note he was holding in his hand, he glanced out the windows by the bandstand to see Y/N storm across the sand, towards a rock.

“I think, we should give her some space, let her come to us when she’s ready to talk. None of you are to touch this, okay?” Michael gave his three bandmates a stern look as he put the letter back into its envelope, placing it back on the table. “I mean it if I find out one of you three so much as even breathed near it, there’ll be trouble. Now, let’s eat and wash up. I don’t want to hear anything about the letter. Don’t even ask her, let her speak first.” Michael picked his fork up once more, eating what was left on his plate. The four Monkees finished their food and cleared up in silence, Peter went to stand on the bandstand once they were done, staring out of the window in hopes he could see Y/N, Mike looked at the bassist sympathetically and walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sure she’ll be back up here soon, Shotgun. Just, don’t push her when she comes back, give her time, but just make sure she’s okay, I think she may need one of your hugs.” Michael stood with Peter a while longer. Half an hour of pacing around the Pad later, Y/N returned, and all four boys’ heads snapped to look at her. Peter walked over to her slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her or scare her off. Y/N made eye contact with Peter and began to sob, the blond ran over to her and scooped her up bridal style, holding her close to his chest as he made his way over to the sofa and sat down still cradling her.

“Shh, hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m here, I’ve got you.” Peter rocked her back and to whilst stroking her hair. The other three sat down cautiously on the other sofa, they decided that leaving Peter to it was the best idea. “Hey, Y/N, deep breaths, okay? Come on, I’ve got you, you can talk to me. You’re going to be okay.” He rubbed circles on her left hand, her breathing became less rapid and eventually after ten minutes of Peter trying, she calmed down slightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’ve- they’ve moved on. They don’t want me to come home, they don’t want me to ever contact them again.” Y/N burst out into tears again, Peter tried to comfort her but this time, it was no use. The poor girl was heartbroken, none of the boys quite knew what to do.

“Hey, wanna see my impression of the inimitable James Cagney?” Micky left no room for an answer as he began to put on his little act. “Okay, you dirty rat, I’m gonna get you, you dirty rat.” Y/N did not stop crying.

“C’mon man, she just isn’t in the mood. You already used that on me in that episode where I got ripped off with my song.” Mike rolled his eyes at Micky’s terrible attempt at making the girl stop crying. Micky sat back down defeated, he thought it was funny.

Davy stepped up next, he tried a dance, which didn’t work. He sang Blue Suede Shoes in a strange voice, it didn’t help either. He sat back down and folded his arms. This left Mike. Mike stepped up from the sofa and crouched down in front of Peter and Y/N, he place a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Hey Y/N, look, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m going for a walk if you want to come, see if that helps, yeah?” Michael said softly, Y/N twisted her head and nodded. She detangled herself from Peter’s arms and followed Michael to the door, the pair grabbing their shoes before making their way out of the door.

Peter’s face fell as he realised that he had failed in making Y/N feel better, his lip trembled slightly. Micky and Davy realised this and rushed to his side, hoping to prevent the boy from crying.

“I messed up, didn’t I? How is it Mike can calm her down but I can’t? Did I say something wrong?” The tears spilt from the bassist’s eyes, Davy pulled Peter into a side hug and Micky rubbed patterns on his back.

“You’ve not done anything wrong, Peter. She’s having a hard day is all, you did great earlier, and you completely calmed her down, but I think she’s struggling right now babe, she’s just been told that her family don’t want her back. I know you’re upset, but you’ve done such a good job, okay? I’m sure that once she and Mike get back, she’ll come and talk to you again, but for now, let’s leave Mikey to play the role of a father.” Peter calmed down slightly at Micky’s words. Pete nodded and snuggled into Davy more, tucking his head in between the shorter man’s head and shoulder, Davy wrapped his arm around Peter and held him as tight as he could. Micky slotted into the gap between Peter and the arm of the sofa and leant his chin on Peter’s shoulder, Peter slid his arm behind Micky’s waist in response.

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Mike and Y/N walked along the beach in silence for a good ten minutes before either of them spoke up.

“I’m guessing that you got me here to talk about the letter?” Y/N twisted her head to look at the Texan who had been concentrating on the sand. Mike’s head snapped up and his face flushed slightly, that had been his intention, but not in a bad way.

“Y/N, look. I’m really sorry. I read the letter this morning before you came back, the boys were probably going to pick it up had I not, and I know what them three are like. They’re sweet but a bit much sometimes. Anyway, I decided to move it, I’m sorry for having read it, I know I made a mistake in that. I was just worried about you when you ran out.” Mike rambled, Y/N shook her head and giggled.

“Mike, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you read it rather than one of the others. You’re right, they are lovely, but I know Pete wouldn’t panic and I don’t even want to think about how the other two would have reacted.” Y/N smiled at him. “Thank you for keeping it away from them.”

“I mainly brought you out here because I wanted to ask you if you’d like to stay? You’re more than welcome to stay, we’d love you to stay, I mean it. All of us, not just Peter. It’s nice having another mature adult around the house, and obviously, we know that Peter loves having you around. Micky and Davy love you being here too, I’d rather not question why. Just, if Micky offers you any dodgy-looking drinks, don’t take it. He likes to experiment if we have to put it into a word. Just stay away from it for your safety. Anyway, I digress, what I mean is, we’re more than happy to keep you if you want to stay. The four of us boys are like an adopted family and I’m more than happy to adopt you into our strange little family. When we were writing that letter, I kept telling myself, that I had already adopted you into our family, but I knew it was selfish to think that when you were hopeful of going home. But no matter what Y/N, we’ll always have space for you, we want you here, okay? We really do, so, if you’d like, you’re more than welcome to stay with us.” Michael had stopped now, he had a look on his face which showed how serious he was about Y/N living with him and his boys for good.

“Wait, really? You’d be willing to let me stay?” She gasped, Mike nodded, trying to not giggle at her reaction. “I mean, of course! I’d love to stay, if you’re really willing to put up with me! I love living with you guys, I know it’s not been long since I came here, but it’s so great! Miky and Davy are hilarious, and I will avoid any dodgy drinks from Micky, thanks for that heads up! You’re really great, especially when it comes to wanting to have more mature conversations? I love the other three, but I don’t think they know the definition of mature sometimes. Anyway, then there’s Peter. He’s helped me so much, both here and when we were being held hostage. Peter’s so sweet, he’s hilarious and I love spending time with him, I really do.” Mike pretended that he didn’t see the blush that decorated her cheeks as she spoke about Peter. “But, I would love to join your strange little family, I’m sure you’d love another mature adult in there, take some stress away from you.” Y/N blabbered, which made Mike laugh.

“Where’d you get the idea that I’m the acting dad?”

“Well, from how you act around the boys, and from the stories Peter told me about you guys, for example, he told me about the time he was forced to copy a really famous painting and then got tied up, he told me about how you helped him, or when he got kidnapped when trying to help that Professor, he said it was all you in plotting to save him. You’re a right dad, Mike.” Y/N shook her head, laughing at the frown on Mike’s face.

“Perhaps I am. Anyway, it’d be great to have another mature adult, as you put it, around the house. But no, I am extremely serious about keeping you, you have no choice! You have to stay with us.” Mike laughed, Y/N pulled him into a hug, he hugged her back equally as tight as she was hugging him.

“Thank you, Michael. I really appreciate it, I’d love to stay with you boys!”

“It’s really not a problem! I haven’t actually discussed it with them because I knew they’d be all in your face begging you to stay, but I know they’re going to be happy. Actually, maybe we shouldn’t tell them and see how long it takes for them to clock onto the fact that you’re staying. It’d probably take them several months to realise because they’re idiots.”

“Michael! Those are our kids you’re talking about, be polite!” Y/N laughed, jokingly elbowing the Texan in the ribs, Mike rolled his eyes whilst laughing like a maniac.

“I’m not wrong though! I’m not taking it back!” Mike grinned.

“I can’t believe you! Those poor boys, what did they ever do to you?” Y/N pretended, and failed, to frown at Mike, but she was laughing way too much at this point.

“Hmm.” Mike scratched his chin, pretending to think about things the boys had done that made them idiotic. He could give many answers as they did tend to get themselves into a lot of trouble, but he didn’t answer.

“See! Our boys did nothing wrong.” Y/N really lost it at this point, she had to sit down because she couldn’t stop laughing and it was taking all the air out of her. Mike joined her, as his stomach began to hurt from the hysterical laughing he was doing.

“Mike?” Y/N managed to calm herself down.

“Yeah?”

“You really are the best dad to them, even if you’re mean about them behind their backs.” Y/N burst into a new fit of giggles, setting Mike back off.

“Oh screw you.” Mike managed to choke out in between giggles.

They slowly made their way back up to the Pad where Peter had fallen asleep on the sofa, he was still sandwiched between Davy and Micky who were still rubbing circles on his back and hands.

“We didn’t have the heart to wake him.” Micky explained when Mike and Y/N entered the room, Mike had given them a funny look. “He was a little upset and thought he’d done something wrong when you left the Pad with Mike.” Micky looked at Y/N. Her face fell and she crouched down in front of the sofa and stroked Peter’s cheek.

“I am so so sorry Pete. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just needed fresh air. I am sorry, and I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.” She whispered just loud enough for the three awake Monkees to hear. They all smiled to themselves, she’d felt so bad when she realised that Pete had been upset, and even though she hadn’t been at fault for it, she had been so quick to panic and apologise, even though it really wasn’t her fault. They could all see she did really care for him and it made them all happy.

“It’s okay.” Peter’s sleepy voice piped up, the added pressure on his skin had woken the man up, he pulled himself out of Davy’s side and sat upright, he gave a lazy smile to the girl.

“Hey Y/N, how’s about you tell the boys the good news?” Mike put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder and gave her a small nod.

“So, Michael and I talked when we went for a walk and he asked me if I wanted to stay here, and I accepted his generous offer. So, now you guys are stuck with me!” She grinned, this gained Peter’s attention, his eyes were still droopy but he clumsily tried to hug Y/N but fell onto her as she sat on the floor, she managed to stay sat upright and grabbed Peter to steady him as he landed on her knee.

“Yay! We’re keeping you!” Peter nuzzled into the crook of her neck and fell back asleep, Y/N shook her head affectionately at him. Mike moved forward and lifted him up so Y/N could move onto the sofa, he placed Peter back down so that his head was laid across Y/N’s knees and the rest of his body was laid across the rest of the sofa. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair and smiled down at the sleepy boy.

“Welcome permanently to the Monkees family!” Micky and Davy said at the same time, giggling as they hadn’t planned that to happen.

“I think you’re right Mike, they seem to share a single brain cell.” Y/N laughed.

“Hey!” The two youngest Monkees exclaimed.

“They really do.” Mike shook his head.

“Hey!” They said again, louder this time.

“Shh, don’t wake Peter up!” Y/N waggled her finger at the two boys who were now sat on the floor pouting at her.

#peter tork #davy jones #michael nesmith #micky dolenz #the monkees #peter tork is so adorable omfg

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thislovintime · 2 years ago

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Peter Tork, 1965.

Q: “Actually, I was going to ask you about your career before [The Monkees].” Peter Tork: “Oh, I was a folk singer. Before that I was in school, and before that I was in the bosom of my family. I was in New York singing folk songs on the Greenwich Village stages.” Q: “How did you end up going out to California?” PT: “‘37 Chevy. Broke down outside of Las Vegas. When it started to belch brown water out of the tail pipe I knew it was all over. We hitch hiked the rest of the way. I had a lady friend waiting for me, I thought. Turned out I was far more threatening in the flesh than at a calm, safe distance, so that didn’t last long. But she connected me to with the Golden Bear Cafe in Huntington Beach, where I got a job washing dishes. I did some work accompanying Steve Stills when he was with Ron Long and the Buffalo Fish. I accompanied this black trio called the [Apollas], on the stand-up string bass.” - Goldmine, May 1982

“Like many ‘heads’ of the sixties, Tork's introduction to the spiritual plane was provided by LSD. ‘I brought some of those sugar cubes with me when I left New York in 1965,’ he recalled. ‘I'd heard that they deteriorate at room temperature, so I took two. Acid does not deteriorate at room temperature.’ His trip was virtually a classic of the genre. ‘I looked in the mirror and saw my mother. I dove out the front door yelling and hollering in Long Beach at two in the morning. I fell into a pumpkin patch and I had my first experience. I finally had a sense of there being a cosmic pattern. I didn't see God in the sense that Jesus came to me, or I saw a man with a beard in a chair high in the sky, but I did have a sense of a driving patterned force being the sum total of all the benevolent intelligences now or ever on the face of the earth.’ Ultimately, Tork came to feel that the acid experience was a limited one. ‘I mean, it opens you up to the possibilities of living beyond your ego, but after a while you come back down and the chemistry you had before the acid trip is largely restored; your ego comes back. I particularly relate to what Ram Dass said, which is that in the throes of acid he was egoless, but as he started to come down his ego walked back in the door and re-fused with his body. That's why he decided to go to India, so he could have the acid experience without having to go through the return trip. In India they had techniques that they'd been developing for years, that made it possible for one to go into a post-ego state.’ Tork's trip, in a larger sense, reflects that of many sixties seekers who opened up to the possibility of possibility, the magic of rock 'n' roll and the magic beyond. Some of them are still out there, having missed the flight back, either accidentally or by design. ‘It is said in a certain school of esoterica that when you first get the hint of it the mountains are no longer the mountains and the moon is no longer the moon,’ said Tork, as the afternoon sun went down and shadows slanted across his room. ‘But when you get past it and come out the other side, with some journeyman mastery, shall we say, the mountains are all mountains again and the moon is a moon. ‘I think I'm at that stage with my life. When I first got the awareness of the extramundane, things just became all holy and completely beyond rational understanding. It was the first flush of acid, the first social explosion of the hippie era. “Everything is everything” and “Wonderfulness is wonderfulness” absolutely swamped the factual reality of a chair. Chairs were no longer chairs; they were imbued with mystery and magic. Having lived with that and taken a few hard knocks on the basis of overdoing it, I've entered what I call the tertiary stage of things. The first stage is where things are what they are. You've got goals and dreams and hopes, but there's no magic. Then you find the magic and it's all magic and nothing is real. Now there is reality and there is magic; they're both real.’” - When The Music Mattered (1984)

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #1960s #1965 #60s Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #long read #<3 #When The Music Mattered #Goldmine Magazine #can you queue it

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60schickgroovy · 4 years ago

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Reunited

(Peter)

I had been out of the country on family business for about 4 ½ months and I had missed Peter every moment I was away. It had never been so hard to simply not be near someone. I arrived at LAX and drove straight to where the boys were doing a concert for their new movie, Head. I made my way inside, sat in a vacant seat in the back and cheered with the crowd. I could see four tiny people on the stage. I spotted yet another vacant seat a bit closer to the stage, I looked around and snuck over. I bobbed and weaved until I had, actually, an okay view of them. Micky was beating away at his drums, Davy was mechanically shaking the maracas while he made eyes at the girls, Mike was poker faced as he sang and then I turned to Peter…

My heart fluttered, all the pain of missing him washed over me and I probably looked just like the crazy fangirls. Seeing him up there content, happy, in his element, and so, so handsome. It was like a magnet, I just wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him, show him how much I’d missed him. His long hair was so sexy, he had a new cut and it was every bit as hot as the last, he was wearing the white sweater I got him in Ireland and it looked even better on him than I had imagined. The energy, the magic and the music were all so contagious, he looked so into it and he was always the happy one on stage, I knew him so well and he was always happiest when he was playing music.

They finished the song and there was a deafening round of applause, the boys waved and hopped around before running off-stage. I snuck out before them so as not to be trampled. I found my way around and the bouncer let me backstage. I walked down hallways, following his directions and finally found myself in front of Peter’s dressing room. I knocked softly and heard movement behind the door. It opened a bit before flying open the rest of the way. “y/n?” His mouth fell open in a shocked smile. I tried to say something witty, but he looked so handsome standing there, I smelled his familiar cologne and I craved the feeling of his arms around me and his lips glued to mine, I was home. “God, why are you so hot?” I ran forward leaping into his arms. He was ready, he caught me and held me close as he threw the door shut. He pushed me back against it, pinning me there with his leg between mine. It was one of the sweetest kisses of my life, we couldn’t get close enough to each other; my fingers combed through his silky hair when they weren’t digging into his back or holding his face or running over his chest. As he kissed down my neck he whispered in the deep voice that drove me crazy. “I missed you, every second…” He came back up to look at me, he was leaning against the door and he moved his hand to gently brush my bangs from my face. “Oh, Peter, I couldn’t stand being away from you.” I said as I looked into his hazel eyes. My neck was too tempting and he moved back down as I continued. “I missed you so much it hurt.” I kissed his hair and breathed in the familiar smell of his shampoo. “Four months felt like for…” He added extra punctuation to my sentences by kissing through my words. I gave up after that and pulled him closer, he lifted me up wrapping my legs around him. I let his tongue explore my mouth freely as my mind spun, I could hardly believe I was here, back in his arms. He brought me over to a table in the dressing room and his hands slid under my shirt as we walked. My skirt stopped him from standing between my legs when he sat me on the table, so I unzipped it and cast it aside. I moan as he filled my every sense and emotion. I only let go of him to let him lift my shirt off. I pull his sweater over his head leaving only his beads to cover his chest. I ran my fingers over his shoulders, chest and abs, relishing every second, then my hands found his belt, I tugged at it, forcing him to fall forward a bit, weight on his hands on the table. My bra had been disposed of and his lips and tongue were wandering freely over my chest. I slid his belt out of its loops, smiling as I thought of how cute it was that he always wore it sideways. He moved from where he was between my legs so he could slide my underwear off. He then wasted no time in pulling his own pants off and, taking me in his arms, made me gasp as he pushed me further backwards. Soon we were both naked, on the table in his dressing room and blissfully lost to the world. I looked up and gently touched his face as his long hair hung down around mine and I thought how safe and loved I felt, how lucky I was. He kissed me as he pushed into me and I moaned into his mouth, his head fell on my shoulder and I dug my fingers into his back. “Ugh, faster, Peter. Please.” I whined. He complied and I closed my eyes, the feeling of him inside me was beyond words. Suddenly, he pushed deeper than he ever had before and my eyes rolled back as he growled my name into my ear. I wanted to say something but I simply couldn’t, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak, the familiar had become new and exhilarating. I gasped and panted, moans falling from my slackened mouth. We climaxed and I yelled his name far louder than I meant to. He collapsed next to me and we laid there for a bit panting and trying to find words. Then suddenly we made eye contact and we burst out in a fit of laughter. We laughed at ourselves, at each other, at how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, at the mess we’d made, at the fact that we were lying naked on a table in a dressing room... When I finally caught my breath I whispered, “I love you.” I turned to lean over him, pushing some hair from his face. “I love you so much, y/n.” He said stroking my arm. He leaned up to kiss me tenderly, slowly and softly.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and we both jumped a mile in the air. “Hey, Pete. It’s us.” I heard Mike’s southern drawl. “Just a second guys, I’m naked!” He yelled as he jumped off the table, scooping me up and bringing me over to his dressing partition. “Cool it, man, it’s just us. Who cares?” Said Micky. “Yea, man, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before, jeez.” Davy said, sounding confused. The boys had shared dressing rooms hundreds of times, what was different now? I tried to stifle my laughter as Peter cleaned up the table. “Got something to hide in there, Tork?” Micky joked. He scrambled to grab my clothes while pulling up his pants. He handed them to me with a fleeting kiss before unlocking the door. The guys looked suspiciously at the topless Peter, whose shirt and sweater had been carelessly and uncharacteristically thrown on the floor. “What’s up with you, man?” Asked Mike as he sat down on the couch. “Whatever do you mean, Michael?” Asked Peter in his usual joking fashion. “He means what are you hiding, Peter?” “I’m not hiding anything, Micky.” Peter flushed as Davy leaned against the table, then he turned cherry red and covered his face with his hand as something caught Davy’s eye. He walked over to the other side of the room and picked up a black, lacey bra. “Peter…” “What is that?!” Exclaimed Micky with excitement and feigned astonishment. “That, boys, is what is called a brassiere. An article of female lingerie.” Mike said taking the undergarment from his mate. “The incriminate part is, of course, that Peter is not a female, so…” Micky stated as they all turned to Peter, who continued to feign innocence. “What? How on earth did that get in here?” He said taking the garment, tossing it casually over the partition and missing his companions knowing looks. “We should have a word with the venue about cleaning up their rooms better.” He said unconvincingly as he paced across the room. Mike made his way casually over to the partition and suddenly pulled an unsuspecting y/n out from behind it still holding her shirt in her hand. “Ah! Ha! Gentlemen, I rest my case.” He exclaimed triumphantly. “Hi, fellas!” I smiled sheepishly. “y/n!” “Hey, Babe! Long time, no see!” I pulled my shirt on as they came to hug me.

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*I do not own the Monkees or anything under their brand. I just wrote this story.*

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For my friend @amalthea9

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soundsof71 · 6 years ago

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Hal Blaine: “May he rest forever on 2 and 4.”

That quote is from his family’s Facebook posting, announcing Hal Blaine’s passing at age 90.

He played on 40 #1 singles, 150 top 10s, some 6000+ tracks in all. (You’ll see stats that say north of 30,000 but don’t believe the hype. All these guys were union and kept their timecards. When Hal says more than 6000, he knew what he was talking about.)

Hal was the drummer on six straight Grammy Record of the Year winners, 1966 through 1971:

“A Taste of Honey”, Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

“Strangers In The Night”, Frank Sinatra

“Up, Up, and Away”, The Fifth Dimension

“Mrs. Robinson”, Simon & Garfunkel

“Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In”, The Fifth Dimension

“Bridge Over Troubled Water”, Simon & Garfunkel

Plus if it was a studio recording by The Byrds, The Beach Boys, Simon & Garfunkel, Sonny & Cher, Carpenters, The Association, The Fifth Dimension, or The Partridge Family, the odds are that it was probably Hal.

You don’t need me to cue up Hal’s biggest hits like the ones listed above, or “Be My Baby”, “Good Vibrations” (Hal seen below working on it with Brian Wilson)...

...so I’m going to take you to the first song that made me say, “WHO’S PLAYING THOSE DRUMS?!?!” The song was a deceptively complicated pop trifle called “Dizzy” by Tommy Roe, and it spent four weeks at #1, starting on March 15, 1969 (50 years ago almost to the day as I write this).

I say deceptively complicated because even though it’s basically two verses and the chorus three times (it actually starts with the chorus, which I’m a sucker for.) There’s not even a bridge, but it manages to go through 11 key changes in less than three minutes! And while there are other instruments, I always heard it as a duet between the drums and the strings.

You already know it was Hal Blaine on strings, and the string arranger was another member of the extended family known at the time as The Usuals, Jimmie Haskell. I was delighted to find this, as both Hal and Jimmie were well known to me from so many other albums in the family collection by then. (I was reading album credits before I was reading books.)

This really is an astonishing track. Bubblegum pop on one level, exceptionally baroque on another, and a drums-strings pas de deux the likes of which we’ve yet to hear again. I used to listen to this on repeat for hours, singing at the top of my lungs -- including the drum breaks and strings stings (c’mon, you know you sing instrumental parts too!) spinning around and around the room until I was DIZZY.

Check Hal’s snare kicking it off like a gunshot.

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I have a couple of other gems of Hal’s that are a little off the beaten path.

I hope that y’all are enough in the know by now to not be pissing on The Partridge Family, who was making absolutely first-rate pop composed by some of the best writers of the day, with pros like Hal Blaine laying down the tracks.

(Plus, c’mon, David Cassidy would have been a singing star without the show, and Shirley Jones WAS a star, an Oscar-winner no less, with one of the great voices that humankind has ever been blessed with.)

“I Can Hear Your Heartbeat” uses Hal’s right foot on the bass pedal as the titular heartbeat, until the whole kit comes swinging in after the first verse. One of the keys to appreciating Hal (or any drummer, really) is to listen to when he starts and stops, and the gaps in between what his hands are doing. This one is a real gem.

(And yes, there’s performance footage of the Partridges of course, but none of the clips SOUND good enough to hear all that Hal is up to.)

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Now having sung Hal’s praises, I’ll note again that it’s possible to overstate the case (which Hal encouraged, and participated in more than once). There were plenty of other drummers on the Hollywood studio scene, including Earl Palmer (very likely on more records than Hal in fact), plus a number of times that Hal was one of a couple of drummers on a single track.

This was a Phil Spector trick. Multiple drums, multiple bassists (often one electric and one acoustic), and an army of guitars all playing at once were the key to the Wall of Sound, NOT multitracking. Sure, Phil used that too now and again, but rarely to add depth. More often for polishing, because there’s no substitute for the vibrations in the air when all those players are playing simultaneously. THAT’s the Wall of Sound, and Hal and his friends are the exact musicians Phil used.

Mike Nesmith used this "Wall of Sound” trick to fine effect when he produced one of the best tracks he wrote for The Monkees, “Mary Mary”, so sharp that it appeared in FIVE episodes, yet still manages to be too little known.

“Mary Mary” features FIVE guitarists (Glen Cambell and James Burton both on lead, with Peter Tork among the rhythm players), two bassists (Larry Knechtel and Bob West), and two drummers (Hal Blaine and Jim Gordon, whose name may also be familiar to you from Derek & The Dominoes, George Harrison, Delaney & Bonnnie, et al.), with notable percussive support from Cary Coleman.

This is definitely Hal kicking it off, though, with a snare lick so sweet that Mike looped it three times and added it to the front of the track, making it that much easier to sample, and sampled it was, including on a nifty COVER of this track by Run-D.M.C. (even though they changed Mike’s lyric on the verses, Mike is the only writer credited) that also used Mickey’s vocal singing the words “Mary Mary”.

I should mention that The Monkees’ version of “Mary Mary” was never released as a single in the US, but WAS included as a cardboard cutout single on the back of Honey Combs cereal!!!! Yes, I had it, though, like a fool, I failed to keep up with it.

Anyway, this is GROOVE, kids.

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Last but not least, Elvis Presley’s “A Little Less Conversation” (1968) was so far ahead of its time that it STILL sounds like it’s from the future. Originally recorded early in the year, it was re-recorded for the famed Elvis ‘68 TV special, but scrapped at the last minute. (Hal did in fact appear in the special!) The second version of "A Little Less Conversation” was used to outstanding effect in the 2001 version of Ocean’s Eleven, and a subsequent remix by Junkie XL charted even higher than Elvis’s original, going to #1 in 14 countries including the UK.

And all of ‘em featured Hal’s drums, absolutely swinging.

You’ve surely seen Hal’s name by now in the context of “The Wrecking Crew”, a name that he invented well after the era had finished to describe this loose group of LA studio aces. It was not only NOT used at the time, but explicitly and angrily rejected by many of the folks tagged with that label later (Leon Russell was so furious at the name that he insisted that the chapter of the movie devoted to him be removed, and he’s far from alone in his outrage)...but hey, as long as you keep that in mind, you can still enjoy the documentary of the same name for what it is: a long conversation between some of the folks who made some remarkable music.

You probably know the song “A Little Less Conversation” well enough (although you should check it out if you don’t), but in this little clip from the aforementioned Wrecking Crew movie, you can see 2008 Hal playing along with 1968 Hal for 30 seconds or so.

Watch his right hand in particular. It’s practically floating on air. He’s holding the drumstick so lightly that I bet you could have snuck up behind him and snatched it right out of his hand. Not that 70s rock drummers like Bonzo couldn’t swing plenty, but the death grip on drumsticks as heavy as telephone poles characteristic of later drumming is barely even the same thing as what Hal was doing.

I’m not saying one is better than the other -- I hope you know by now that I love light 60s pop every bit as much as heavy 70s rock -- but this clip tells you everything you need to know about why drummers in particular revere Hal as one of the greats...even if he pissed them off sometimes, too.

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Additional notes: the photo, the quote and some of the stats at the top are courtesy redef, the picture of Hal with Brian Wilson is via forums.stevehoffman.tv, and the single of “Mary Mary” is via 45cat. The rest is from yewchewb, and me obsessively reading the back of albums since 1963.

Here’s a great list of highlights from Hal’s credits. You’re going to be flabbergasted by them. If you have any kind of record collection that dips into the 60s at all, you may have dozens of them.

And while most of Hal’s key work was in the 60s, he did in fact have a terrific 1971, with appearances on two albums each by The Partridge Family (including one of my favorite singles of theirs, “Echo Valley 2-6809″) and Barbra Streisand (Stoney End is one of my favorites by anyone that year), Carpenters (featuring “Rainy Days and Mondays”), and a good-sized handful more.

#hal blaine #the wrecking crew #rip #hal blaine rip #the monkees #the partridge family #mike nesmith #phil spector #tommy roe #dizzy #a little less conversation #elvis presley #my edit #essay #long post

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monkeesimagines · 7 years ago

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Daddy’s Song

“…And if and when I have a son,

Let it all be said and done,

Let the sadness pass him by-y-y.”

You winced at Mike’s rendition of the Harry Nilsson song. And with your peripheral vision, you could see the record producers frowning and shaking their heads. Mike was a wonderful singer, and he had that almost magical ability to do virtually any style song.

But “virtually any” does not mean “any." This had to be the first time Mike’s singing ever sounded really bad. And, you hoped, the last.

The two producers looked up at him. "Um… good, Mike. Real good. But you know, Davy recorded one of this one, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mike said, giving an unconcerned shrug.

“Well, we’ll get with the producers on the movie and see what they say.”

“That’s fine,” Mike said as he picked up his guitar and got ready to leave. Ever since Kirshner got fired, Mike had pretty much gotten to do whatever he wanted with the music. So he had no reason to believe they wouldn’t pick his version of “Daddy’s Song” over Davy’s.

Mike’s eyes lit up when he came out of the recording booth and saw you waiting for him. “Hey, babe!” he said, and gave you a quick kiss. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Thought I’d come down and surprise you,” you said. “You were so excited about doing this song, I just wanted to be here with you.”

Mike smiled softly at your thoughtfulness. “Well, thank you. Hey, what did you think of it?”

“Well, uh…" You chewed on your lip. You couldn’t tell him. You just couldn’t. Never before had you criticized his voice, not even when he was trying to get used to his new sound after his tonsils came out. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything now, not when he had looked forward to this so much.

You changed the subject. "Say, why’d they want you and Davy to record the same song? I mean, you and Micky, that makes sense. You’re both tenors. But Davy? Your voices and styles are so different.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Mike said as he led you out to the car. “You know, Davy’s voice is perfect for songs like this. In fact,” he said once you were both in the car, “I’ve been thinking about having Davy try one of my songs. ‘Nine Times Blue,’ maybe.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Davy on 'Nine Times Blue’? You must be joking!”

Mike shot you a dirty look for that last sentence. You flashed him a grin to show you were only teasing.

“Anyway,” Mike said, “I asked to do 'Daddy’s Song.' I just…" He looked wistful. "I just liked it.”

You touched his arm gently, remembering the things he’d told you about growing up. He had once confided to you that the worst thing about his childhood was not hunger and ratty clothes, but loneliness. No father to play catch with him, and no mother to meet him when he came home from school because father had left, and mother had to work. “After hearing the lyrics, I can see why it appealed to you.”

No expression showed on his face. Mike could be very expressive when he wanted to be. In fact, his facial expressions were part of why you were so attracted to him. But when he wanted to hide his feelings, he could be absolutely stone-faced. But he couldn’t completely mask the emotion in his eyes, and although his face showed nothing, you saw the slightest wave of sadness wash over his brown irises as he thought back over the words of the song. “Yeah,” he said simply, “well, I know a good song when I hear it.”

He took a deep breath, cleansing himself of unhappy thoughts, and started the car. “I rehearse the dance number tomorrow. You wanna come watch?”

You beamed at him. “Oh, I’d love that!" You didn’t add that you hoped it would be better than his song- or that it would just about have to be.

* * *

Toni Basil was so pretty that she could have been very distracting. But Mike was completely professional, totally focused on the steps and moves. During the final filming, he would have to do the scene twice, once in a black tux and once in a white one, because of an idea Rafelson had had for editing the sequence. You stayed for the entire session, which was only the first of several. Mike, true to his nature, was a perfectionist when it came to developing his style, working on the same steps over and over again until it seemed impossible for him to mess up- and then he practiced a bit more.

You were quite impressed with Mike’s style. You knew he could dance, of course- in fact, he was learning to samba, and had promised to teach it to you. But you’d never seen him do such impressive leaps and kicks. And, for reasons you never understood, he never danced on the show, not really. In fact, the dance school episode and the "No Time” romp made him look like he had two left feet. Your theory was that he had always been too embarrassed to try to dance for the show, and so he made fun of his abilities, in much the same way he made fun of “Different Drum” when he sang that messed-up version the first year.

Maybe that was why you were almost as anxious as Mike was for this scene to get into the movie. He could finally show the world what he could really do.

When the rehearsal was over, Mike was tired and winded, but his face was flushed with pride and excitement. He knew he’d done a good job.

“Oh, Mike,” you cried, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek, “you were wonderful!”

Mike smiled. “I’ve got a few rehearsals to go before I’m good at this, but I think I did all right for a first try.”

“You were amazing,” you told him, slipping your arms around his slim waist. “And I can’t wait to see you in those two tuxedos. I don’t know which one will look better on you- black or white. At any rate, watching you dance is…" You grinned. ”…quite a treat.“

Mike smiled again, grateful for your appreciation of his talent.

* * *

Mike had only one more rehearsal to go before he was ready to actually record the "Daddy’s Song” scene, when he came home one evening in a fury. He slammed the door behind him, startling you out of the book you were reading, and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, every muscle in his body iron tight, fists clenced so hard his knuckles were white.

“Honey?” you said. “What’s wrong?" It had been a while since you’d seen him this mad.

"All that time,” Mike growled. “All that work. And for what?! You’d think they could have told me before I started rehearsing the dance. At least then, I wouldn’t have wasted all my time and made a complete fool of myself." He put his hands on his hips and continued pacing.

Calmly, you said, "Honey, slow down. What are you talking about?”

“'Daddy’s Song’!” he shouted, as if he thought you weren’t listening to him. “That song I’ve been working on so hard for a week now. Just as I’m almost ready to shoot the scene, they tell me my singing stinks, and they’re going with Davy’s version, not mine. They don’t want me." His anger began to subside into pain. He stopped pacing, folded his arms, and leaned against the mantle. "I was really looking forward to it, you know?" He glared at the toe of his boot.

"I know,” you said, softly and sympathetically.

Mike was silent for a long moment. You gave him the time he needed. At last, he sat on the couch beside you, rubbing his face with both hands. You rubbed the heel of your hand between his shoulder blades. The muscles in his back were clenched painfully tight. “You know what the worst part is?” he said. “I was too stupid to see right off that Davy’s version was better. I mean, I heard both tapes. And man, I was bad. Even at the time, I knew it. But… I let myself think I had a chance. I’m an ass." He sat back against the couch, resting his chin in one hand.

You reached up to stroke his hair, soothing him. "Wanting something so badly doesn’t make you an ass.”

“I was never right for this, for the whole Monkees project,” Mike said. “And I know it. My voice, my style… I don’t know why I’m even here.”

“Because you’re good,” you said. “Davy’s from Broadway. He’s no more right for a rock and roll group than you are. But… but some things are a little more his style than yours. And I guess this is one of them. But you’re a wonderful singer, and composer, and guitarist, and actor… and dancer, I might add.”

Mike looked at you squarely. “You never did tell me what you thought of it.”

You squirmed a little. “You want an honest opinion?”

His piercing eyes bore into yours. “Have you ever known me to want anything else?”

You acknowledged this with a nod. “Well… I have to admit, you have sounded better.”

Mike stared at you expectantly. He knew you were holding back.

You looked away, chewing on your lip nervously. “To tell the truth, it was the worst you’ve ever sounded.”

He looked hurt, but not angry. After all, he’d asked for it. He swallowed hard. “Am I losing my ability?”

“No,” you said firmly. “'Circle Sky’ sounded amazing. Now, I know you love 'Daddy’s Song,’ but you’ll do better on your next one. And anyway, 'bad’ is relative. Your 'worst’ is still better than Peter’s 'best.’”

Mike gave you such a dirty look, it made you cringe.

“Sorry,” you said. “I was trying to make you feel better.”

Mike sighed, “It’s not just the song. All of Head is about us trying to break away from our TV image. That’s what the dance routine was gonna do for me- show the world who I am, what I can do." He scoffed, and his tone took on a bitter edge. "And once again, the bigshot executives just wanna shoot down reality for the sake of the almighty buck.”

“Truth never sells,” you said, agreeing with him. “Which is what’s so bad about this, cuz your dancing was amazing.”

Mike looked at you, reading your expression carefully to make sure you weren’t just teasing him. “Are you serious?”

“Honest opinion, just like you like it,” you said, raising your right hand. “I didn’t know you could move like that.”

Mike gave a shy smile, a rare expression for him, and leaned over to kiss your cheek. As he did so, he whispered in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone this, but neither did I.”

#mike nesmith #mike nesmith imagine #submission

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daggerzine · 8 years ago

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From Lifeboat, Tackle Box and beyond, Greg “Skeggie” Kendall spills the beans….

I had met Greg “Skeggie” Kendall as a person before I even knew about his music. Sort of. He was road managing The Chills when I saw them in about 1989/1990 or so. I was backstage doing an interview with The Chills’ Martin Phillipps (for my zine, DAGGER) and Skeggie brought him a big salad (not “the big salad” like on Seinfeld but a big salad nonetheless) and faked this posh British accent when he put it down in front of Martin and stated, “Your dinner sir.” I laughed and Skeggie and I chatted bit that evening. He seemed like a real friendly, jovial type, completely unlike some other road managers types I had met throughout the years.

So I’d already missed the boat on his band Lifeboat though I’d heard of them and was sure I’d heard some Lifeboat songs. Then missed his next band, Tackle Box until my pal Jeremy Grites told me I had to hear them which was in the late 90’s or maybe 2000. I picked up copies of those cds, On and Grand Hotel (both released in 1993, if I have my story straight, and both on the Rockville label. They also released “The Wheat Penny Single” 7” the same year on Rockville. Fun fact: his rhythm section on those records, Brian Dunton and Sean King Devlin went on to work with Mary Timony in Helium) and both are filled with the kind of at times loud/ at times soft rock music that too many people missed but really should have heard. As you’ll read below he’s done plenty of other stuff, musically speaking.

You know here at DAGGER I like to dig a little deeper, go for some more obscure folks to interview and it was on a whim that I’d reached out to Skeggie to see if he might want to answer a few questions. Thankfully he did and by reading below you’ll learn about the long strange trip that Mr. Greg Kendall has been on all these years. Long live Skeggie!

John Surrette (Boy's Life), Peter Buck (REM), Skeg Kendall (Lifeboat) 1986, at The Rat in Boston, MA (photo by Paul Robicheau)

Where were you born? Did you grow up in the Boston area?

I was born in Norwalk, CT. In the three years following, my family moved to as many states: from Norwalk to Santa Barbara, CA.; Santa Barbara to Red Hook, in upstate NY; Red Hook to Huntsville, AL. I mostly grew up in Huntsville, but our family did weird satellite missions to other places for awkward fragments of school years. There was half of third grade in Atlantic Beach on Long Island, and before that, a 1968 Cocoa Beach summer at the Del-Ray Motel that stretched beyond the first day of school because my father worked for the space program at Cape Canaveral. Eight months for eighth grade in Gaithersburg, MD, then washing up in Middletown, RI in 1973. So, to answer your question, no, I did not grow up in the Boston area. I moved there in 1981, when I was 21.

Do you remember the first record you ever bought?

I was lucky to have an older brother who was way into music, so I was exposed to scads of great music from very early on. Simply, AM top forty radio WAS my childhood. I tried, but didn’t buy the first record I wanted to buy. There are many tales of the infamous Columbia Record Club. Our family returned from a vacation in what, 1968?, to find a package at our front door I’d ordered from the back of a magazine. “The Birds, The Bees, and The Monkees” is the one I remember. My parents were pissed and had to undo the bad deal and returned that record and the other two that were delivered. I eventually bought that album, and of course loved it. The Monkees are the best band ever.

When did you first pick up an instrument? Was it a guitar?

5 years old. Ukulele. Soon after, the guitar. Cat gut string. My first gig was in kindergarten in Huntsville singing “My Old Kentucky Home” with my brother and sister. There are some uncomfortable lyrics in that tune for three little kids to be singing in 1965 Alabama. (It was only recently that I discovered the origin and intent of the song. Interesting history.)

Lifeboat in 1985, the Living Room in Providence RI

Was Tackle Box your first band? If not tell us about bands prior to it.

Lots of bands before Tackle Box. That was like 1992-93. It’s hard to list the catalogue without supplying background in order to provide fun context. You gotta understand that back in the day we were in the middle of the suburban punk rock expansion explosion, jumping off of what we were gleaning from the CBGB’s scene of the late 1970s and the Detroit thing of MC5 and the Stooges, and also Blue Oyster Cult’s early stuff, not to mention most importantly Lou Reed. I worked backward from “Rock n Roll Animal” to the Velvet Underground in 1975-76. It was mind-blowing. It’s impossible to encapsulate in a brief answer. I moved into the upstairs of a nightclub in Newport RI in 1978. I lived there for two years. I was like 18 and 19 years old. I saw a load of wild shit, ingested a ton of drugs, and had a lot of fun. Johnny Thunders was a regular. I hung out with Sonny Terry and Brownie Magee, J.B. Hutto, and Max Romeo. I held court with Carl Perkins. I played regularly with Jonathan Richman, Mission of Burma, Human Sexual Response, and The Neighborhoods. What else can I say, except that I’m sure there’s a bunch of cool stuff that I can’t remember, plus can’t believe I don’t have Hep C or some other nasty affliction. Our band, Bob Lawton’s Boots —look it up—we were there from the git-go of punk rock. Just sayin��.

Tell us about seeing bands in Boston the 80’s? With the amount of amazing talent there back then you must have had some magical nights!

Yes. Some great nights were involved. “Magical” is a good adjective. I moved to Boston in 1981. It was an exciting time in local music to be there. “Magical” because one had to invent one’s scene if you didn’t dovetail easily into an existing one. A Boston rock scene was in full play, with the ‘Hoods, Mission Burma, Lyres, Neats, Del Fuegos, etc, etc., but to bust into that world required stamina and songs, particularly if you were in a jangly pop band like mine —Arms Akimbo, which became Lifeboat. We had much more in common with the North Carolina and Georgia music scenes than the grittier Boston sound. We had to work hard to prove ourselves, and we pretty much did. That band broke up in 1987.

Tackle Box on Oct 2014 at The Middle East, Cambridge MA (Photo by Johnny Anguish)

How did Tackle Box come about?

The Brothers Kendall were a thing after Lifeboat’s varied successes and failures. My brother Bobby and I wrote a bunch of songs and played a bunch of gigs in 1988-89, maybe 90? I don’t know. We made a record for Bar None with Peter Holsapple from the dBs that never came out, mostly because the record sucked, (through no fault of Peter’s). But, tell you what, I loved that band. We made some music I’m quite proud of. The core of that band became Tackle Box. Shawn Devlin is an amazing drummer I’ve been playing with since the Newport days; Mike Leahy is a genius guitarist (he’s played with Juliana Hatfield, Buffalo Tom, and Pell Mell, among others); and bassist Brian Dunton, (with Devlin, the original Helium rhythm section) are great to work with.

When I (briefly) met you back then you were a tour manager for The Chills. Had you been making your living doing that? If so what other bands did you tour manage?

Wow! Where/when did we meet? That was a goofy gig. If anyone ever asks you, “Hey, should I consider a cross-country tour that requires road managing, driving the van, being the sole roadie and — get this—opening solo act?,” you’re answer should be, “No, definitely don’t do that.”

I also went out as a roadie for the bands Big Dipper, The Feelies, and for the longest stretch, Throwing Muses. I love all of them, very much. So many tales to tell.

How did the deal with Rockville Records come about? Who ran that label (I only knew about Homestead back then).

Jeff Pachman signed us. It just happened I guess because he heard our songs and liked us. I honestly don’t know any other reason.

When/ why did Tackle Box end? Did you have any bands after that?

We all got busy with other stuff, and honestly I was becoming ambivalent about what had started to feel like asking people if they liked me through music. After all those years, I guess hit sort of a mental roadblock. I had a new family, with back-to-back sons, and that had an impact I’m sure on my commitment to touring and other time-consuming aspects of being in a band. But I found a new musical outlet when I fell into scoring film. Doug Macmillan from the band the Connells introduced me to director John Schultz, who enlisted me to write songs for his film Bandwagon, and then asked me to score it. The film screened and was bought at the 1996 Sundance Film Festival, which eventually led me to score Schultz’s 1998 Drive Me Crazy for 20th Century Fox. It was a fun, exciting and satisfying time, despite the steep learning curve.

Who are some of your favorite current bands or musicians?

My son’s projects are what I’d like to talk about.

DJ Lucas https://soundcloud.com/djlucasma

Weird Dane https://soundcloud.com/weirddane

They’ve got a whole lot stuff going on. Their collective, called Dark World, is knee-deep in music making, video projects and fashion design.

Care to tell us your top 10 desert island discs?

It’s hard to get it down to ten, but let’s go with…

Velvet Underground (self-titled third album)

Velvet Underground “Loaded”

New York Dolls “New York Dolls”

New York Dolls “Too Much Too Soon”

Jean Jacques Perry “The Amazing New Electronic Pop Sound Of Jean Jacques Perry”

Yo La Tengo “I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One”

Joni Mitchell “Blue”

Chet Baker “ Let’s Get Lost”

David Bowie “Hunky Dory”

Brian Eno “Music For Airports”

(Plus any and all releases from Gram Parsons)

Tell us about the reunion gig that Tackle Box recently played. Will there be more?

That was super-fun. I hope for more. I love those guys, and I think we rock real nice together. We fell into playing together as if we hadn’t taken over twenty years off.

What is it that you do now? Something in the film industry?

From 2002-2012, my wife Connie White and I booked documentary films into cinemas as Balcony Releasing. We distributed over twenty films in that period. Currently, I’m working with my wife’s company Balcony Booking. She’s the film buyer for eighteen independent art houses and three film festivals.

Check out our new site here: https://www.balconyfilm.com/

Skeg behind a Rhodes in Bellows Falls, VT

Any closing comment? Final thoughts? Anything you wanted to mention that I didn’t ask?

It’s been a long and interesting trip, including my recent graduation from college in May 2016. With all that music stuff going on, I completely forgot to go to college, so I entered in 2012, and graduated four years later from UMass Amherst with a self-designed BA in Historical New England Documentary Studies.

Also, I’m about to embark on a new musical adventure— or I should say, a potential adventure. I’m going to Raleigh, NC to hang with my buddy Doug MacMillan from the Connells. If it works out, we’re thinking about planning a two-hander that explores the odd lives we’ve led in the music business, including stories and songs in a fun and reflective show. We’ll see. I hope it happens. I love those Connells songs.

BONUS QUESTION: Did you ever hear from Mark Lindsay about the song “Mark Lindsay’s Ponytail?”

I have a signed copy from Mark Lindsay of the Tackle Box “Wheat Penny” single that has “Ponytail” on the B-side. He says he liked it. I’m proud to say that one of my songs, “Eeenie Meenie Miney Moe,” originally recorded with Tuffskins, (a fun post-Tackle Box mini-project) was rehearsed by the fantastic Los Straitjackets with vocals by Mark Lindsay for consideration on an album. Alas, a release was not to be. But still, that feels really good, and the song was eventually recorded and released as a single by Rochester, NY garage-rockers Ian and the Aztecs. So, all’s well, that ends well.

www.balconyfilm.com

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stephenjaymorrisblog · 8 years ago

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June 1, 2017

On This Day, 50 Years Ago

This is an article I wrote 15 years ago, however I never published it. Now, on the occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the Release of The Beatles’ masterpiece album, “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” I am posting it. Hope you enjoy it and the memories it evokes!

Beatles Memory 1967

By Stephen Jay Morris

1967 was a landmark year for me. I was 12, soon to be 13. My dad was overwhelmed with parental responsibility. The prospect was freaking him out even more because my mom had become pregnant with her fourth child. My parents wanted no more than three kids. He and my mom used to berate me with this awful euphemism: her pregnancy with me was an accident! I never understood that word “accident.” You’d think that, after their third child, they’d have figured out how the biological function known as “conception” worked! My dad would further barrage me with such endearments as “moron,” “stupid,” and “idiot.” Before long, I realized who the real moron was and, it was at that point I vowed to myself: I will never get a woman pregnant unless I want to.

Before my youngest brother was born, my parents realized that our 3-bedroom house lacked space for another child. Either we would have to move or add another bedroom. My mom didn’t want to move, so they decided to hire a contractor to add a bedroom at the rear of our house. I spent most of ‘67 listening to the unnerving sounds of endless hammering and sawing. I can still smell the aroma of wood and stucco to this very day.

My dad had stopped cutting my hair by then, mainly because everyone in my family told him that he did a lousy job. We started going to a beauty college for bargain basement haircuts. A middle aged, burly, Russian woman always cut mine. She charged only 50 cents. At least she gave me semi-decent haircuts; she’d leave a little bit of length on my sideburns. I wanted to grow my hair long so badly! I never knew I had thick, wavy hair until I grew it out a few years later.

I needed money, so I got a job selling the Sunday edition of the L.A. Times. My assigned spot was on the corner of La Brea Avenue and Beverly Boulevard. Every Sunday, without fail, I got out of bed at around 4 a.m., got dressed, and walked about a mile to that corner, in the cold, L.A. air. The neighborhood was a ghost town. My footsteps would echo along the vacant sidewalk while the fluorescent signs of shuttered and closed stores hummed and buzzed. I brought along my transistor radio to keep me company. Music sounded so eerie in the dark morning. I would arrive at my spot before sunrise and, by the afternoon, my hands were blackened with newspaper ink. Of course, most of my pay went toward buying records. I had that job for two years! I could write a book about it.

In the Autumn of 1966, a fictional, TV Rock band called “The Monkees” hit the airwaves. They had launched a successful, weekly TV show that became hugely popular with pre-teens. However, I could never watch it because, in our household, my sister dominated the TV set. My entire family enjoyed this lame game show, “Truth or Consequences.” I hated game shows! To me, they were pornography for middle class honkies that fantasized about becoming rich. To my surprise, The Monkees was usurping the airwaves. I did like the Monkees, but I had to keep it to myself; my peers considered this “uncool.” It was a trade secret that none of them played instruments on their recordings; studio musicians were used to complete the task. I liked The Monkees’ first release, “Last Train to Clarksville.” The song had that 1965 folk-rock feel that featured beautiful, “jingle jungle” guitar riffs. As such, the song was two years behind the times. During that period, a lot of “one hit wonder” songs and novelty tunes were prevalent. Ambitious record producers created “fake rock” bands that started a genre known as “Bubble Gum Music.” Sometimes, these various bands were comprised of the same studio musicians with a different vocalist. It was all intended for the under-14 demographic. I started to hear songs like “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” by the Royal Guardsmen, and “Winchester Cathedral” by The New Vaudeville Band, a British novelty group. It was the Monkees, however, who led the pack.

Everything you heard on pop radio was “teenage music”—until March of that year: That was when THE BEATLES STRUCK!!!! I remember when I first heard “Penny Lane” come across the airwaves. It was upbeat and lyrically visionary. Toward the end of the song, there’s an incongruous, screeching sound—like a sound system had malfunctioned. It was PSYCHEDELIC, Man! So, off I went—like a junky looking for a fix—to the local record shop. I hopped onto my two-wheeler and beat it to Norty’s Records on Fairfax Avenue!

To my great delight, that record—a 45 RPM single—had a picture sleeve! Few records came packaged that way. At home, I’d take those picture sleeves and hang them all over my bedroom wall. They made a cool collage! When I first saw it, I did a double take: The Beatles had facial hair! My first thought was that some prankster had taken a marker and drawn beards and mustaches all over their faces! I was so excited that, just when the clerk was about to give me the change for my purchase, I said, “Keep it!” I headed for home, breaking all bicycle speed laws! When I slapped the record onto my portable Sears record player, I had a life altering experience! On the flip side was “Strawberry Fields Forever.” Wow! It was a way out tune! I knew, then, that the Beatles had forever changed.

The cultural complexion of my neighborhood was also changing. Previously, all I would see were old Jewish ladies, slowly pushing their rickety shopping charts. The quiet, bucolic streets were lined with old apartment buildings with low rental units, primarily occupied by working class and religious Jews. Gradually, these buildings became occupied by strange looking, young tenants who dressed like Gypsies and American Indians. The media had labeled them “Flower Children.” I remember hearing a ballad on the radio called, “The Flower Children,” by Marcia Strassman. (She later became a TV actress in the 1970’s.) I didn’t get what the lyrics were about. If you’ve never heard the song, that’s understandable; it never cracked the Top 10. Other songs mentioned “Flower Children.” In 1967, the Seeds released a follow up to their 1966 garage classic “Pushing Too Hard” called “A Thousand Shadows.” On its flipside was “The March of the Flower Children.” It was the goofiest song I’d ever heard! Who in the hell were these Flower Children anyway? I would find out soon enough.

Music started to reflect what was going on in society. Just looking out of my window, I could see the scenery changing. Just a half-mile from my house was Fairfax Avenue, which became a Mecca for the so-called Flower Children. Psychedelic shops opened up. The Free Clinic opened up. Underground newspapers appeared.

I didn’t understand who these people were or what they wanted. I was just a punk kid. I recall how my dad thought it was another rehash of the 50’s Beat movement. Once, we were driving home from a trip to the mountains when Scott McKenzie’s song, “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair),” came on the car radio. My dad gave me a look of disdain and sneered, “You know what he is talking about, don’t you?”

“No,” I replied. “I don’t. What is he singing about?” I asked lethargically.

He fired back “You know what he is singing about!!! Don’t lie to me!”

My dad was paranoid. For some sick reason, he thought I was part of “the movement.” What the hell did I know?? I was 13 years old! I shut my mouth about the song and we didn’t talk for the rest of the trip home. But, I later realized that my dad wasn’t concerned or threatened by these “Flower Children.” He thought they were amusing and cute. It was two years down the road that he would be threatened by the New Left.

Late that Spring, the “San Francisco sound”—introduced by the band, Jefferson Airplane—hit the airwaves. Their first hit, “Somebody to Love,” was being played on Top 40 radio. FM radio was in its infancy then; my radio didn’t have an FM band. When I heard that song, it slammed me into a wall! It had this ghostly quality to it. I’d never heard a sound like that before!

Like everybody else, I was anxiously awaiting the Beatles’ next album. Out of the blue, I got fooled by a new single: The Easybeats, an Australian band, released “Friday on My Mind.” It sounded uncannily like the Beatles! Suddenly, there were a lot of bands that started to sound like them. “The Merry-Go-Round,” an L.A. band, was another notable one.

Then, June arrived and—BAAMMM! “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” came out! The day of its release was a major event in rock history! It seemed that every store carried it! There were multiple stacks of the album, piled high, on every store counter! And not only did drug stores carry it, but hardware stores, department stores, and even gun shops offered it for sale! I saw lines of people outside those stores! They all knew that this album would generate cash and they wanted their piece of the action.

I soon headed over to Norty’s. For the first time since I’d been a patron, there was a line of about 15 customers at the counter, waiting to purchase their copy. There were stacks of the album on the front counter. I got in line to purchase mine. I excitedly selected one and began to examine it as I waited. I studied it, carefully, marveling at the cover art by Peter Blake and reading the song lyrics printed over the back. The cash register was ringing like a Rickenbacker guitar! It was a five-minute wait and worth every second! I ran all the way home to play my new Beatles album!

One thing I hated about album packaging in the 60’s was the cellophane used to seal them. I used one of my dad’s old razor blades to open the seal. I ever so carefully removed the record from its jacket, being careful to avoid putting any fingerprints on the platter. It had that new record smell. To this point, I hadn’t heard any of the songs over the radio so, for me, it was a complete debut!

Everything about the L.P. was exciting and innovative. The record jacket was in the form of a fold-out book—like two album covers had been joined, side by side, by a narrow spine. The front cover was a colorful collage of renowned figures from music, entertainment, literature, and world history. It was fun to look at it and venture guesses at whom was who. Well-established magazines published articles listing the identity of every face on the cover. The Beatles were featured front and center, donning their colorful, Sergeant Pepper uniforms and posed above lush greenery and flowers, their name spelled out, prominently beneath them, in red carnations. On the back cover—for the first time in music history—the lyrics of every song were printed in full! For years, rock fans had complained over how they couldn’t understand rock songs’ words. Well, with this work, you could read along as you listened! On the inside, the jacket opened to reveal a strikingly beautiful portrait of the Fab Four, (Paul seated cross-legged) in their iconic and colorful Sergeant Peppers’ regalia! A special surprise was tucked inside the record sleeve: a jacket-sized page of hand drawn, color cutouts! Such fun objects included a mustache, a portrait of Sergeant Pepper himself, and a lapel button, among others. The cutouts had glue on the reverse so that you could paste them onto almost anything. I remember later seeing them pasted onto library books!

Then, there was the music…lets talk about the music! First of all, the end of each track segued into the next. This drove AM disc-jockeys nuts! The Beatles never released a single from it, so AM radio had to play songs straight off the L.P. You’d have to buy the album to hear a specific song. I loved listening to AM radio any time they played a cut because, as one song ended, you could hear the next one begin! The album was a complete body of work. You weren’t satisfied after listening to just one track; you had to listen to the entire album! Whenever I did, I became mesmerized. It was like one big medley of picturesque words and melodies. All songs were equally fantastic! Music critics, who’d once hated the Beatles, declared the album a masterpiece. And they were right for a change! The work remained on the charts for 20 years following its initial release!

Everywhere you went, someone was playing Pepper on his or her stereo or radio; it was an international tune-in! There hadn’t been a massive tune-in like this since the Beatles hit the American shores in 1964! Back in the early to mid 60’s, Rock/Pop music was a beat-driven sound you danced to. It was relegated as background noise while you did your teenage activities, like making out or riding in your daddy’s car. Soon, Bob Dylan’s songs and lyrics became center stage for college students. And then this album emerged.

Sergeant Pepper gave us the same experience that our parents had with radio: “The Theater of the mind.” You could not listen to this album while you were housecleaning or doing homework; it required your full attention. It was later said that this album increased headphones’ sales. That was, by far, the best way to listen to it and get the full nuance of its music and lyrics. Drugs? You didn’t need any! This album took you on a lucid journey of imagery and sound. Suddenly, you were in an alternate universe while the outside world vanished! You were in a psychedelic circus and the ringmaster was Billy Shears. Each song was a story, like a chapter from a book. It was the first thematic rock album—and it worked!

The album opened a creative floodgate! Jimi Hendrix, in December that year, released his second album “Axis: Bold As Love.” Consequently, my own Rock n Roll addiction became worse. So many great albums followed that year, that it becomes too numerous to list them here!

My sister bought a copy of the album, in stereo. (I’d bought the mono version.) There were three copies of the album in my house alone! In those days, record albums were produced primarily for hi-fi, or monaural record players. People in higher income brackets owned stereo systems, so the stereo version of the album was uncommon. There was no stereo phonograph in our house; my sister had simply selected the first copy she’d come across. I wouldn’t hear that album in stereo until I bought my first system in 1977. It was then that I listened to it with headphones, for the first time, and—WOW! The experience was far better than when I’d listened using my mono record player. I heard things I’d never heard before! Like John’s guitar in the song, “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.” I thought that a lot was lost in mono.

Now, I must address the critics of this album. In stating this album was overrated and not the Beatles’ best work, some think they are iconoclastic and cute. However, this is not an objective viewpoint; it is really about getting negative attention. Plus, they know they are wrong! They say that Revolver was better than Pepper. Revolver? Really?? That album was an appetizer for Pepper. John Lennon suggested that in the last cut on Revolver, “Tomorrow Never Knows,” in his lyrics, “Turn down your mind, relax and float down stream.” No one did that while listening to “Revolver;” but they did with “Sergeant Pepper!” Some say that “Abbey Road” was their best album. “Abbey Road” was a bad interpretation of the Beach Boys’ “Pet Sounds.” Plus, it was Paul McCartney’s debut for his new band, “Wings.” How about the “White Album?” Yeah, how about that? All that was was a compilation of Beatles’ solo projects. So, if you think Sergeant Pepper’s sucks, then go listen to your British import of “Beatles For Sale” and feel superior to everybody else. If you hate the Beatles, then I know you won’t be reading this tribute.

Though the album sounds dated now, it still holds up very well. It conjures strong memories of the “Summer of Love.” It represents the Beatles’ finest hour. They never could outdo that album. Their post-“Sergeant Pepper’s” era was good, but didn’t have the impact of that iconic work. In 1969, they tried to out-do Pepper with “Abbey Road,” but that product was overshadowed by Woodstock, the historic summer music festival in upstate New York. They remained a beloved band, but the Rock n Roll juggernaut put them at the back of the bus.

When the Beatles ultimately broke up, it was their most auspicious act! Their break-up made them a bigger band than the Rolling Stones could ever hope to be! The Stones went on and on (and continue to this day). Before long, I got sick of them. In the 70’s, Bob Dylan became a joke. A Rock band should be together for no more than 10 years. If they continue beyond that, they just become party guests who refuse to leave, at which point, all you can do is call the cops to make them leave! The best Rock bands last about three years; after that, they become living myths.

The Beatles influenced me musically. I never joined the Hippie movement, but I did adopt some of their lifestyle. In 1969, I became a Yippie. In 1970, I declared myself a “Marxist-Lennonist.” That is: in deference to the great Groucho Marx and John Lennon.

Yes, 1967 was quite a year indeed. You had to be there.

#60's music #the beatles #sergeant pepper #poets on tumblr #Stephenjaymorris

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mike-micky-peter-davy-imagines · 8 years ago

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“Now, don’t let it get to your head, Y/N,” Peter reassured,” I’m sure there’s a way to figure out if Mike or Davy is right for you.”

“Tell Mike you love him,” Micky finally announced in a serious tone.

You stood up, clear confusion resting upon your face. Dolenz had an explanation though. He figured if Mike had a positive reaction, then you’d have your boyfriend. If he didn’t, you could ask Davy out. Your fears went wild. What if they both turned you down?

“How could they both turn you down?” Peter seemed shocked by your thoughts,” I’m sure one of the boys is bound to love you. You’ve got this, Y/N.” You thanked Peter for his kind words. The three of you decided to head back to the Monkees Pad to determine who would be your boyfriend. Mike was the only one there- Davy was out with another girl. Your heart broke a little, but at least you had a chance with Mike. You knew you had one shot to find love. The other two boys left the room, while Nesmith had his eyes set on you.

“Hey Y/N,” he smiled,” What’s happenin’?” You slowly took a seat beside the Texan. This is the moment, you told yourself, Don’t screw up, Y/N! Tell him exactly how you feel. At first, you weren’t sure what to say. And suddenly, it all came out at once.

“I think I love you!” you covered your mouth.

Mike was blushing now- the both of you were, actually. He put down his guitar and slowly took your hands into his. You couldn’t look him in the eye, until he said your name. Only then did your eyes meet. Nesmith’s eyes were always easy to read. And now, there were things in there that left you baffled.

“Y/N,” he sighed,” I know you do. I see the way you look at me when i’m playing my guitar. I know that smile you get when I walk in the room or how you stutter when talking to me. I think you’re a great girl, but I don’t love you the way you love me. I…I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t be with you.”

Your heart snapped in two. Your worst nightmares were coming true- now you had none of the boys. Mike rejected you and that was it. Davy had his mind on another girl. Meanwhile, you were left in the dust.

“I understand Mike,” you breathed out, feeling your voice crack. You stood up, legs shaking as you made your way to the door. You didn’t look back at the house as you walked through your front door. You couldn’t help but cry the minute you closed your front door. Of course it ended this way- you alone. Luck and love were never on your side. Why would it be any different this time?

You heard a knock at your door minutes later. Your mind wondered which boy it was. Maybe it was Peter and Micky coming to tell you that you tried. Maybe it was Mike coming to tell you that he really did love you. You highly doubted your last thought. You opened your door, but there was one man standing before you. Davy.

“You love me?” were his first words to you.

Peter or Micky must’ve told him. You couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

“Yes,” you quivered,” I know you were on a date with another girl. I just can’t get enough of you. I love your voice and how strong it is. You have such a bright smile and your eyes are absolutely stunning. You never cease to amaze me. You make my life so much better than it was before we met. I hope we can still be friends.”

You went to close the door, but Jones wasn’t having it. He refused to let you shut the door. He wrapped his arms around you. It had you stunned, never expecting to have this happen. He looked up at you, gently brushing your tears away with his thumb. His hand gave you a feeling of great comfort.

“You’re a groovy girl, Y/N,” Davy whispered,” You’ve been caring to me since the day we met. Your laugh is music to my ears. You make my heart skip a beat when you look in my direction. You deserve endless love and affection- I want to be the one to give you that. Because- you’re the one I love the most. Y/N, I waited long enough to ask this. Will you be my girlfriend?” At first, you didn’t know what to say. You were still shocked that Jones had pulled you into a hug. You looked into his eyes and lifted his chin. Just so you could leave a kiss on his lips. He didn’t pull away or give into the kiss. He just closed his eyes and held you tighter. When you broke the kiss, he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed.

#Dave Jones Imagine #Mike Nesmith Imagine #submission

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monkeesimagines · 8 years ago

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It was hard to resist either one of the boys. Mike was always kind to you, he made you laugh and he was there when the going got tough. That- and he was irresistible in your eyes. You’d fallen for the Towering Texan. There was one tiny problem- well, he wasn’t too tiny. He was only an inch or two shorter than you. Davy was just as loveable as Nesmith was. Ever since you’d moved across the street, you had eyes for both of the boys. You were desperately trying to figure out who you loved more. You were hoping to get some help from Peter and Micky. Maybe they could decide who was a better match for you. “What do you love most about Mike?” Dolenz had asked you. “He’s got a heart of gold,” you started,” He’s great at making me laugh and smile. He knows what to do to make my day a little bit better. He’s got the incredible ability to write songs. He’s just so talented. Oh, and he’s hot.” Micky playfully rolled his eyes and wrote it down in a notebook. Peter asked you the same question about Davy. “For the same reasons,” you sighed in frustration,” I love the way Davy sings and how his smile lights up the room. Davy can make me laugh even on my worst days. His eyes are wonderful- and he’s adorable.” Tork wrote down what you said about Davy. The two men conversed about their notes. Judging by the conflicted looks and inaudible whispering, you could tell they had trouble too. You let out a frustrated groan and rubbed your temples. Clearly, it was going to be harder than you imagined. “Now, don’t let it get to your head, Y/N,” Peter reassured,” I’m sure there’s a way to figure out if Mike or Davy is right for you.” “Tell Mike you love him,” Micky finally announced in a serious tone. You stood up, clear confusion resting upon your face. Dolenz had an explanation though. He figured if Mike had a positive reaction, then you’d have your boyfriend. If he didn’t, you could ask Davy out. Your fears went wild. What if they both turned you down? “How could they both turn you down?” Peter seemed shocked by your thoughts,” I’m sure one of the boys is bound to love you. You’ve got this, Y/N.” You thanked Peter for his kind words. The three of you decided to head back to the Monkees Pad to determine who would be your boyfriend. Mike was the only one there- Davy was out with another girl. Your heart broke a little, but at least you had a chance with Mike. You knew you had one shot to find love. The other two boys left the room, while Nesmith had his eyes set on you. “Hey Y/N,” he smiled,” What’s happenin’?” You slowly took a seat beside the Texan. This is the moment, you told yourself, Don’t screw up, Y/N! Tell him exactly how you feel. At first, you weren’t sure what to say. And suddenly, it all came out at once. “I think I love you!” you covered your mouth. Mike was blushing now- the both of you were, actually. He put down his guitar and slowly took your hands into his. You couldn’t look him in the eye, until he said your name. Only then did your eyes meet. Nesmith’s eyes were always easy to read. And now, there were things in there that left you baffled. “Y/N,” he sighed,” I know you do. I see the way you look at me when i’m playing my guitar. I know that smile you get when I walk in the room or how you stutter when talking to me. I think you’re a great girl, but I don’t love you the way you love me. I...I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t be with you.” Your heart snapped in two. Your worst nightmares were coming true- now you had none of the boys. Mike rejected you and that was it. Davy had his mind on another girl. Meanwhile, you were left in the dust. “I understand Mike,” you breathed out, feeling your voice crack. You stood up, legs shaking as you made your way to the door. You didn’t look back at the house as you walked through your front door. You couldn’t help but cry the minute you closed your front door. Of course it ended this way- you alone. Luck and love were never on your side. Why would it be any different this time? You heard a knock at your door minutes later. Your mind wondered which boy it was. Maybe it was Peter and Micky coming to tell you that you tried. Maybe it was Mike coming to tell you that he really did love you. You highly doubted your last thought. You opened your door, but there was one man standing before you. Davy. “You love me?” were his first words to you. Peter or Micky must’ve told him. You couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. “Yes,” you quivered,” I know you were on a date with another girl. I just can’t get enough of you. I love your voice and how strong it is. You have such a bright smile and your eyes are absolutely stunning. You never cease to amaze me. You make my life so much better than it was before we met. I hope we can still be friends.” You went to close the door, but Jones wasn’t having it. He refused to let you shut the door. He wrapped his arms around you. It had you stunned, never expecting to have this happen. He looked up at you, gently brushing your tears away with his thumb. His hand gave you a feeling of great comfort. “You’re a groovy girl, Y/N,” Davy whispered,” You’ve been caring to me since the day we met. Your laugh is music to my ears. You make my heart skip a beat when you look in my direction. You deserve endless love and affection- I want to be the one to give you that. Because- you’re the one I love the most. Y/N, I waited long enough to ask this. Will you be my girlfriend?” At first, you didn’t know what to say. You were still shocked that Jones had pulled you into a hug. You looked into his eyes and lifted his chin. Just so you could leave a kiss on his lips. He didn’t pull away or give into the kiss. He just closed his eyes and held you tighter. When you broke the kiss, he looked into your eyes and smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed.

#Davy Jones #Peter Tork #admin peyton

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