1. You Told Me
2. I'll Spend My Life With You
3. Forget That Girl
4. Band 6
5. You Just May Be The One
6. Shades Of Gray
7. I Can't Get Her Off My Mind
8. For Pete's Sake
9. Mr. Webster
10. Sunny Girlfriend
11. Zilch
12. No Time
13. Early Morning Blues And Greens
14. Randy Scouse Git
In the late summer of 1966, the times were a-changing. The Beatles, feted as the most popular band in America, began to suffer an increasing amount of cracks in their happy-go-lucky foursome image. They had embarked on a world tour, their third in 3 years, but it was becoming more and more blatantly obvious that they couldn't keep up the cheerful facade. In Tokyo, an unusually sedate crowd allowed the Beatles to actually hear their own performance, something that hadn't happened to them in a very long time. As a result of the constant shrill screech of the fans drowning out the woefully inadequate sound systems of the era, the Beatles' live performances atrophied to an embarrassingly low level that served as a constant irritation to the members of the band who would much rather be elsewhere, anyway.
Later on in the Philippines, an accidental snub of first lady Imelda Marcos led to a furor that almost got the band killed by angry crowds. When asked about the incident later, a normally peaceful George Harrison said he wouldn't mind just dropping an atom bomb on the place. And of course, Lennon's famous "more popular than Jesus" remark erupted with a bang in the United States just in time for their dates there, which led to all sorts of fun escapades such as the bands' records being burned, stations banning their music, being constantly hounded for apologies and explanations in ever-trite press conferences, and death threats from the Ku Klux Klan.
Basically, what I'm trying to get at is that being a conventional pop group in the 1960s sucked a whole friggin' lot. With shit like that happening to them, it's no wonder that the Beatles retired from touring into the drug-filled cave of Abbey Road Studios, never to return. Due to the constant exposure and output expected of your average pop group then, the Beatles' sabbatical in the latter half of 1966 must've seemed like an astronomically long time for the overwhelmingly large bubble-gum chewing, Tiger Beat reading segment of their fanbase.
The long silence was finally broken on February 1967 with the release of the double A-side single Strawberry Fields Forever/Penny Lane. Not only was the music-buying public flabbergasted at the Beatles once again effortlessly redefining what a pop record could be, but what was perhaps more astonishing to the teeny-boppers was their appearance as seen on the innovative music videos used to promote the single. Gone were the smiling mop tops of yesteryear, killed by the pressure and the screeching of a generation. Here was the new face of music, world-weary and serious. Not to mention, they had mustaches. I can only imagine how baffled the average 12 year old girl must've been to accept such a drastic image change. This may not mean so much nowadays in an era where Lady Gaga can't step outside of her house without looking completely different, but it would've caused quite a splash in the more straight-laced pop scene of the 1960s. The Beatles' records continued to sell like cocaine-filled hotcakes, of course, but they were no longer teen idols. They had managed to escape the arena, albeit barely.
But who were to be the gladiators now? Pop audiences, always notoriously fickle, needed another group of bright young things to fawn over, and dammit, TV was gonna give it to them. Enter Messrs. Nesmith, Dolenz, Tork and Jones.
Much has been made of the Monkees' supposed inability to play their own instruments. In fact, it's one of the only things that anyone remembers about those guys anymore. They were the Prefab Four, selected in a TV studio and then forced upon the unsuspecting masses as a "rock band" via wacky exploits and catchy chart topping singles. Those critics conveniently ignore the fact that they were not the only band to do this, in fact plenty of other bands used studio musicians, especially the Beach Boys who held such critical favor.
They also ignore this album, which represents an artistic triumph for the band, because it's the first time they actually play their instruments, as well as even writing some of the songs!! I mean, it's still not that fantastic an album, but they really really tried this time!
And try they did. The early part of 1967 was a rather contentious time for the Monkees, who were in conflict with music director Don Kirshner over their not being included in the music making process. Things came to a head when the band found out that an album had been released without their knowledge, which would piss anyone off. Later, a meeting ended with Michael Nesmith punching a hole in the wall and saying "That could have been your face!"
That's right. The Monkees were actually badasses. Could've fooled anybody!
And now the Monkees could truly prove to the world that they actually did have talent, and that's where Headquarters comes in. I have to admit, I kind of got my hopes up here. Surely this album would be a critical vindication of a band that I had written off for years, a truly lost classic along the lines of Genuine Imitation Life Gazette, a psych/baroque pop oddity by the Four Seasons (of all bands!). Unfortunately, what I got wasn't nearly as interesting. Sure, the Monkees played their own instruments and wrote their own songs for once, but it's not exactly a heartbreaking work of genius going on here. In fact, it sounds a lot like the Beatles. I know, half of the '60s was spent ripping off the Beatles (and vice versa!) but so many of these songs sound like they were yanked from the pages of the Lennon-McCartney songbook that halfway through the album you wonder why you didn't just put on Rubber Soul instead.
That's not to say that all of the songs are subpar Beatles imitations, though. 'Shades of Grey' is actually a decent ballad, though that may just be the cello. 'Sunny Girlfriend' comes out of left field as a catchy country-rock song, which just goes to show that the Monkees should've just gone the Byrds route and released a string of country albums. Instead, they just got forgotten about by the fickle pop audience as described above. Trappings of fame, mothafucka.
Before I go, I should talk about 'Randy Scouse Git', which is probably the best the Monkees ever came to matching the Beatles. It's got that sort of charmingly-dated feel in the verses mixed with a surprisingly inflammatory chorus for the Monkees: "Why don't you hate who I hate/Kill who I kill to be free?" That's some conscious shit right there.
Oh, and 'Zilch' was sampled by Del Tha Funkee Homosapien on a really cool song song called Mistadobalina which is worth an extra point, I guess. 7.5/10
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