Before you try to make a mockery over my monkee, it is true. My favorite Monkee died and a piece of my personal history flashed before my eyes shortly after hearing the news. Davy Jones was the lead singer for The Monkees. If you are not familiar with the Monkees, you must have been born much later than 1965 when the band debuted. They were a bit of artificial insemination into the music world as the band was created as the foundation of a television sitcom that followed a real band.
Davy died of a heart attack at the age of 66 years old. That alone is worthy of a pause when someone goes by natural causes at such a young age. Of the four Monkees, Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork, Davy was my favorite. Perhaps is was his Manchester accent, those familiar, yet unfamiliar British notes that had sharps and flats in unexpected places for my ear.
Although they started as a made to order band, they were real musicians in every sense of the word. Their hits included "Daydream Believer," "Last Train to Clarksville" and "I'm a Believer", which still run through my mind on occasion bringing a smile as I remember exactly were I was when I heard the song the first time. I had all of their albums, a rarity for me. I was not what anyone would call a musicologist by any degree. Just listening to these again, has me in tears for a number of reasons: the death of man who was not old by today's standards, the passing of my own life, all mixed with memories of pleasures past.
Thank you Davy and the rest of you!
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