Greetings Beatland Readers!

I want to say a big welcome to our latest book buyers and express my continued thanks to all of those who have supported this project right from the beginning.
If you have only just joined us, I am sending out periodic newsletters for everyone who ordered books to keep you in the loop with the status of book shipment (as well as to share some insights about the Monkees).

Today is August 16th, the 55th anniversary of the release of the very first Monkees record, “Last Train To Clarksville.” It is also the day I learned that our books had not yet arrived in the port of Long Beach as was forecasted by the shipper! The books are now scheduled to arrive next week on August 24th. They will need to clear through customs and are slated to be in our warehouse for shipping to you all on September 8th.

I’m sure this isn’t the only Covid-related delay you have experienced of late, but it is obviously no easier to relate. Any hitch in what has been a lengthy production is unpleasant, but suffice to say the delivery of your books is my top priority. I truly hope the book’s arrival will bring both you and me some peace and happiness. I know they will be worth the wait.

In the meantime, I have had to go back to writing about More Of The Monkees this week for the upcoming Run Out Groove vinyl edition of the album. In doing so, it struck me just how much I have learned in the last two years about this pivotal period for the group. As a result, my book was not simply revised but rewritten. Here are a few insights I would like to share.

Jeff Barry, Don Kirshner, and Michael Nesmith (Photo courtesy of Andrew Sandoval)

As July 1966 ended, only Don Kirshner was sure of the Monkees’ success. When his trusted record makers – Snuff Garrett, Mickie Most, Carole King & Gerry Goffin – fell away, he remarkably switched gears to pull together an exceptional album – The Monkees – in just four weeks. And should the resulting release have any kind of success, he also had twelve songs (“All The King’s Horses”; “The Kind Of Girl I Could Love”; “I Don’t Think You Know Me”; “So Goes Love”; “I Won’t Be The Same Without Her”; “You Just May Be The One”; “I Can’t Get Her Off Of My Mind”; “Mary, Mary”; “Of You”; “(I Prithee) Do Not Ask For Love”; “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone”; “Whatever’s Right”) already in progress to comprise a second album.

Nevertheless, since so many of these tracks were produced by Michael Nesmith (whom Kirshner merely tolerated), it was obvious that Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart would have to come up with another batch of material to pair with two of Nesmith’s songs. Around this time the duo had phoned Kirshner with the title of the Monkees’ next hit record: “Valleri.” Never mind the fact that they had composed the song on a car drive to see Donnie (after having shucked him with the title), “Valleri” was a top-tier Boyce & Hart rocker. Were it to have been paired with “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone,” the Monkees’ place in popular music would have been assured.

Yet Kirshner was unsure if he was on the right track with Boyce & Hart. He still longed for his east coast writers and after Tommy & Bobby floundered somewhat with a few novelty numbers (“Kicking Stones” and “Ladies Aid Society”) in September, he saw an opening to shift things back to his comfort zone.

On October 15th, Kirshner brought in producer Jeff Barry and songwriter Neil Diamond to create two new tracks for the Monkees: “I’m A Believer” and “Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow).” “The first time I met them,” Jeff Barry told me in 2006, “I had the demo, just a simple track of [‘I’m A Believer’ with] either myself or Neil singing the lead, just so the [Monkees] could hear the song.

(Photo courtesy of Andrew Sandoval)

“Everybody seemed enthusiastic, except Mike Nesmith. [He had] a big attitude right from the beginning and he said at one point, ‘I’m a producer too, and that ain’t no hit.’ So, it was like, ‘Oooo.’ To break the tension I made what I thought was an obvious joke. I said, ‘Well, Mike, it’s not finished. You’ve got to picture this with the strings and the horns.’ Which I thought there wasn’t going to be strings and horns [on it, but he would understand that] and he goes, ‘Well, maybe it could be something with strings and horns.’ Then he realized everybody laughed and the relationship goes down from there.”

Ironically, the other Monkees picked up on a country & western flavor in “I’m A Believer” (rather than Barry’s rhythm & bubblegum) and thought Nesmith the ideal candidate to sing it! “We were all up in Lester Sill’s offices and we decided who should sing it,” recalled Davy Jones in a May 1967 court deposition. “We all thought that Mike should sing ‘I’m A Believer,’ it being a country type song and Mike singing country music, and Donnie went along with that.”

According to Nesmith, “Peter…said that he didn’t like the song that much…I said, ‘I think that’s a great song, Donnie. I’d like to produce that: I’d like to produce a track on that. And I really think I could do a good job by it.’ [Donnie’s response was] a little uneasiness, kind of a sweaty palms in the eye syndrome. I could see in Donnie’s eyes that he was uneasy that I suggested that I produce that record.”

(Photo courtesy of Andrew Sandoval)

It is unknown if allowing Nesmith to sing at all was a bit of psychological theater staged by Kirshner and Barry to get what they ultimately wanted (Micky on lead vocals). Either way, Donnie would later learn he was playing with fire if his intention was indeed to play Nesmith. “We got in the studio,” recalled Davy in May 1967, “and Mike didn’t sing it the way Donnie wanted him to sing it and Donnie asked Mike to sing it a certain way and Mike didn’t sing it that way. And during a break Mike just split; he just left…He wasn’t taken off lead. He chose to be taken off himself by leaving.”

“Don had allowed me to record…the song in order to pacify me,” says Nesmith. “And he never had any intention of putting my voice on as lead and had, in fact, intended to put Micky’s voice on in lead…Lester [Sill] told me over dinner that he had never seen an artist treated that way and that he was very sorry and that there really wasn’t anything he could say or do but he wanted to offer an apology.”

And so the Monkees’ biggest hit was born, as was the feud that would unsettle their relationship with Kirshner. What I found fascinating in my research was that Kirshner never attended a Monkees concert, though doing so would have granted the opportunity to commend the band musically in a sincere fashion. Instead he sat out their initial tour and plotted further work-arounds. As his relationship soured with show creators Bob Rafelson & Bert Schneider, he found himself in a far less satisfactory position than he might have assumed from all of the accumulated success.

The Monkees at RCA Studios in Hollywood, October 1966 (Photo courtesy of Andrew Sandoval)

I firmly believe the Monkees would not have meant as much historically or musically without Kirshner’s initial involvement. Furthermore, I also feel we would not be discussing them at length today if they had not taken up their instruments and become a self-contained group. I am truly happy my book can shed light on both sides of this story and I look forward to hearing what you think when you get to read all about it in September.

Very best,

Andrew Sandoval
Beatland Books