That's what I thought you were saying, but that doesn't sound right at all. There were plenty of US bands at the time that played their own instruments on their albums, e.g., the Byrds and the Doors. I don't know much about the Monkees' arrangement, but what it might have been was a union rule that prevented the Monkees from doing so because they were actors by trade rather than musicians. This reminds me of something I've read in various sources about the Beatles...they had something called an "anti-miming" law in Britain that made them go into the studio and record new versions of the their songs specifically for TV performances in which it was standard to lip-sync and not actually play the instruments. They couldn't just lip-sync/mime to the record.
Right -- Mike and Peter never did any acting prior to The Monkees. Mike was a songwriter as well as a musician, and the producers bought his songs when they hired him (and IMHO, his songs are better than the ones by Boyce & Hart and much better than the ones by Neil Diamond). Davy was a musical-theater performer in London and Broadway, with a 1963 Tony nomination for playing the Artful Dodger in Oliver! Micky was the only one who was chiefly an actor, although he'd played and sung in bands before.
Now on Decades: A Laugh-In guest-starring Davy Jones (2x19, aired Feb. 10, 1969). And Feb. 10, 1969, is right about when I would have been...never mind, TMI, even for me.... There was also an attempt at reviving it later in the '70s. I remember catching that.
I don't think it's ever really true when people say that, but some artists are definitely more polarizing than others. You can usually spot a few clues in those scenes. Or perhaps intended. When it's clear that he's much better off living in the trees with an ape-man. Hey, you finally got to see it. I remember thinking that, too. I love those first three. I love this one. This really captured the feeling of the times-- too bad it wasn't really true for Sonny & Cher. This is okay. Another one that I have no recollection of. This is okay. I love this one, too. One of those songs of the period that is profound in its simplicity. In the early 80s? I doubt it. Pokies had been prominent on TV since at least the first season of Charlie's Angels, and likely before. Sounds like H&I is especially prudish. That's him. That's inconceivable. I think it was the 80s. They tried to get Nixon back to say, "You can stop now."
Laugh-In was also known for its political and topical humor, although the the Smothers Brothers on rival network CBS pushed the boundaries of social commentary and political satire quite a bit further. As you mentioned, Laugh-In was more revolutionary in form than in content. It did away with the structured conventions of variety TV that harked back to vaudeville, and gave us a nonstop, machine-gun-paced stream of quick sketches, blackouts, musical numbers, one-liners, and non sequiturs. It was "absolute television" -- it wouldn't have worked in any other entertainment medium. It certainly owed much to the experimental TV of Ernie Kovacs a decade earlier.
Indeed, there were a couple of moments in the episode I saw where Dick Martin was asked a question that suggested a racy answer and he replied along the lines of "I could say it if this were The Smothers Brothers." So much television does, yet so few people remember Kovacs now. I'm indebted to my father for introducing me to his work. (My father was a music aficionado and radio professional who was very interested in experimental and avant-garde music such as the work of John Cage and Phillip Glass, so it's no surprise that he was a fan of experimental television too.)
And now Decades is playing Laugh-In's Sonny & Cher episode, from Fall 1969. BTW, might be too late for RJD to get the news, but they're scheduled to play that New Year's Eve 1969 episode that I mentioned upthread at 2 a.m. (actually aired Dec. 29). Sometimes I have to look up what the jokes are about on that show. At one point in one I caught a bit earlier, they were referring to their timeslot rivals, Here's Lucy and unidentified programming on ABC that they tsk-tsk'ed. Turns out the timeslot was shared on that network between parts of a couple of half-season wonders, The Music Scene and The New People. (And they just made another, more general crack about ABC in the one that's on as I type this.) Also caught one with Diana Ross as the guest host. She was still with the Supremes at that point, but not for much longer. And the one that just came on features Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz, and Mike Nesmith. _______ Kung Fu "The Hoots" Production no. 166210 Originally aired December 13, 1973 Caine hooks up with a group of religious zealots whose ways are so strict that they make him look like a freewheeling wildman. He's a bad influence whose presence threatens their very way of life, like Kevin Bacon in Footloose. Of course, to make for better contrast, they give him new habits, like singing while he works. His flute-playing, at least, is well-established. Features 2x2-time Incredible Hulk guest star Laurie Prange, and Bond supporting villain / evil Starfleet admiral Anthony Zerbe in a sympathetic role as her father. "The Elixir" Production no. 166211 Originally aired December 20, 1973 Guest stars 2-time TOS guest, 2-time Incredible Hulk sister, and blatant McCoy clone Diana Muldaur as a manipulative woman who's obsessed with her personal freedom. It's kind of odd to have Caine caught up in somebody else's single-episode Fugitive Premise when they've made a point of ignoring his this season. In this episode, the badass moment belongs to the main bad guy, who walks into a sheriff's office to complain about his wanted poster; the complaint wasn't that the guy in the poster looked nothing like him, but it should have been. Nobody looking at that poster would have recognized him as Candy from Bonanza. In one scene, Muldaur's Theodora plays a song on the mandolin that a bit of Wiki fu tells me is a Civil War ballad called "Aura Lee". Mid-to-late-twentieth-century audiences would more readily recognize it as the tune used for this pop classic: "Love Me Tender," Elvis Presley (Charted Oct. 20, 1956; #1 US on various pre-Hot 100 charts the weeks of Nov. 3 through Dec. 8; #3 Country; #3 R&B; #11 UK; #437 on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time) "The Gunman" Production no. 166212 Originally aired January 3, 1974 This one is maybe a little overly arty in making its points. Caine's motivation for staying in jail doesn't ring true--he was happy to take advantage of opportunities to gain or keep his freedom in earlier episodes. But he did have his Fugitive Premise to consider back then.... The climactic moment was a surprise, and artfully shot. The episode includes an awkward flashback about students bringing Master Po flowers and how he prefers genuine affection to having his butt kissed. TOS guest: Katherine Woodville (Natira, "For the Title Is Long and I Have Spelled It Out") as the aforementioned ranch widow. "Empty Pages of a Dead Book" Production no. 166213 Originally aired January 10, 1974 Last episode focused on a character who killed as a way of life; this one on somebody who kills as a family obligation. He's not just following in his father's footsteps, he has a grandmother pushing him on. There's also a two-way commentary about blind enforcement of law...first the Ranger in going after former outlaws out of his jurisdiction and eight years after the fact; then the tables turn and he and Caine are sentenced to be hanged for an accidental death that they weren't responsible for during a fight. And here's another example of Caine being plenty ready and able to escape from captivity when he has the opportunity...this time kicking open a locked cell door. It's generally a pretty serious and grounded episode, but you have to get a giggle out of Kwai Chang beating up Slim Pickens. "A Dream Within a Dream" Production no. 166214 Originally aired January 17, 1974 The old "protagonist stumbles into a town that's keeping a dark secret" thing is something that we've all seen before...the first episode of Route 66 comes immediately to mind, and I'm sure I've seen other examples. In this case, it's a sort of one-shot "Who Hanged J.R.?" premise about a character we haven't met. But the truth is an unexpected twist...albeit with at least one of the mystery beats that got us there not making much sense and seeming forced upon explanation. It's unusual for this show to open with Caine traveling through a stage set of an outdoor location; I suppose you could say that it's surreal in its execution. Also surreal is how we never see the face of the dead man around whom the episode centers, even in a sculpture of him, which has a Question-like blank visage. Other guests include Sorrell (Boss Hogg) Booke as the sheriff, who's key to the cover-up and tries to railroad Caine with the murder charge. It's odd when they give us a flashback of young adult Caine having nightmares about demons that need to be explained by Master Po...that seems like one that would have been better suited to Young Caine. Caine badass moment: Showing off at the end by easily breaking out of his cuffs once everyone knows that he's innocent. _______
Funny you should say that, because I credit Laugh-In, in part, with my love for Vaudeville and Burlesque. Son of a gun. Even reading that, I still associate it strongly with the early 80s. I wonder why. Bummer, I missed it. I'll have to pay closer attention to the guide descriptions in the future. ABC was considered a joke in those days-- the "third network." There was a joke that the best way to end the Vietnam War would be to put it on ABC, and it would be cancelled in two weeks. Come to think of it, you'll eventually see a Get Smart episode where Control and KAOS go up against the CBA or BCA or something-- the "third spy network."
This is the tail end of season two, so "grounded" villain was not going to fly in a season so influenced by the Stanley Ralph Ross--even in episodes he did not write, such as this crossover. ...similar to their own series. Assume they leave through some service or emergency exit. Why would any of this series' villains think their fanciful death traps would accomplish anything they claim? Recall the Joker's printing press from "The Joker's Last Laugh", where he actually thought it would turn Robin into a comic strip, or that's what Dozier's closing narration said the machine was doing... A minor error, since everyone else refers to Kato as the Hornet's "masked companion / confederate", etc. Just like their own series. I always assumed it was New York, since the TV Gotham was not really a full stand-n for NY. That was such a pointless, throwaway line in an otherwise straightforward action crossover. Its almost as if the writers needed to mention the absent Aunt Harriet (only appearing in part 1), just to say she's around. It was interesting to see the Collins matriarch so thoroughly broken down from her position of strength in the pre-Barnabas months, going from stern--sort of cold, to listless and defeated. The Widows' Hill spirits date back to episode 12, where Roger told Vicki the story of why the widows haunt the cliff. The spirits were always there--the entire town seems to have it as a backdrop of its history, so they were part of the cursed scenery since the Bill Malloy period. He sort of knows what's up, but is too touchy to admit anything (to Willie) at the moment. Note how quickly he's completely dropped his obsession with Maggie to any degree--as far as he's concerned, Maggie was never of interest to him, so its al about Vickie. Predatory behavior. You should see the pre-Barnabas storylines, where Burke was central to a running plot with/against Roger. For a character who was not so sympathetic (for the audience POV), one could feel sorry for her Jason situation, which only had one way out. Although Jason was not in any of the Liz/Widows' Hill scenes, one cannot forget his presence all throughout. ...one account suggests the announcement was made as it was not known if George was a permanent replacement at the time his earlier episodes were produced. Not a meddler, as the character had a frenemy relationship with her from the start. It was Burke who pleaded with Liz to let him step in as Willie was harassing the Collinwood women / Jason's turning screws on Liz. More to the point, 1960's TV was not going to have the "sweet, but misguided / troubled" daughter marry a sleazy, greaseball like Buzz, unless it there was a plotting end-game for her to learn a lesson of some kind. I enjoyed the idea of Carolyn's take-charge idea of ending the Jason threat; in that way, she was not just the run-of-the-mill daughter character (at least for now), and was more than willing to kill to protect her mother. He's busy with his drinking problem...or, the writer wisely avoids oversaturating the Jason / Liz plot with the vampire, who will play "big finish" in an episode or two...
There were no such "rules" regarding The Monkees or most groups playing on their own albums; Don Kirshner did not allow most of the four to play, as it was his production standard to use session artists on the studio tracks for (what he believed to be) the best possible sound. His resistance was slightly set to the side as Nesmith played electric and pedal steel guitar on several tracks on the first two albums (The Monkees & More of the Monkees), while Tork played piano, the Hammond organ, occasionally base and harpsichord, the most notably on "Your Auntie Grizelda" & "The Girl I Knew Somewhere" (the latter recorded shortly after Kirshner was fired). Further, American groups such as The Byrds, The Association, and CTA (changing their name to simply Chicago), were playing on their own tracks, along with aforementioned acts such as The Doors. Overseas, session artists were used for groups such as Herman's Hermits (notably Jimmy Page, who was in demand for many an act), but acts like The Rolling Stones only used session or selected artists when necessary (e.g., when a desired instrument was beyond the virtuosity of Brian Jones, or after he was ostracized from the group), but not because of some imagined "rule".
Patrick was just a great villain--and every bit believable as a man who set up the Stoddard death with long-range plans to cash in. There you go--Burke's reason to be on Dark Shadows. Solid wrap-up of Jason's schemes with Liz. Barnabas has jewels hidden all over the property--a tradition started back in the 1700s. You can feel the tension as Jason believes he's learned the Big Secret of certain strange goings-on at Collinsport, and the idea that he has no idea he has a few hours left... Jason knows enough to cause serious problems--after hearing the exchange about Josette. Mixer, its not stock music. Series composer Robert Colbert also created much of the Blue Whale jukebox music, heard throughout the series. I loved this scene; Jason, knowing he's on his way out of town, sticks it to (as he calls her) "prim and proper" Vicki, and like a master fisherman, hooks her with the suggestion about her background, and (as you note) what's heading her way. Of course, in early DS series bibles, Vickie was going to end up being the illegitimate daughter of Liz, but the idea was dropped. Willie was still decent enough to think of Jason's post-Collinsport plans; he just wants all to go with no drama, but he's caught between two very inflexible forces. Its understandable why Willie would avoid saying the V-word, since he's still trying to protect Barnabas (in the event Jason leaves), so he natural raised his intensity level to imply things are not right with his employer. Some cannot take a hint. . John Karlen (as always) sells the danger and his character's torment in dealing with outsiders invading the coffin room (as seen when Maggie tried to kill Barnabas), while his final stare--a consideration of his friend--was the right tone set at the right moment, resigning himself to the only outcome left to Jason. DS was on fire.
The point isn't when they were established, the point is when that element found its way into the otherwise mundane Jason blackmail plot. And for all the drama that they milk out of that angle, it plays a relatively transient role in the overall plotline...much like Buzz. There were at least two ways out...the one she almost took, and the one she did take. And I never found her to be unsympathetic. That's what I thought. Whatever arrangement the Monkees had, it was specific to the Monkees, not the law of the land. Hell, it was the Byrds who wrote this song as a critique of the made-for-TV nature of the Monkees: And FWIW, I mentioned the Byrds alongside the Doors. With an expiration date on the carton that would cause me to throw it straight in the trash without even thinking of trying to smell it.... It's stock music for the series, unless I'm misunderstanding the term. What it isn't is actual music that would have been found in a jukebox anywhere outside of the show in 1967. That's an interesting tidbit. So was there any eventual payoff for Jason claiming to know something of her origins, or was that forgotten? It isn't, because Willie spells it out in such a way that he's not trying to hide Barnabas's true nature anymore. "He can walk at night, but he's dead!" Just say the word, already!
This Saturday, MeTV is having a day-long tribute to Martin Landau, similar to the one they did for Roger Moore.
I think that's kind of missing the point. Yeah, The Monkees was a TV show first, but it was an innovative show in the way it blurred the lines between fiction and reality by having its invented band become an actual touring band in the real world and release actual albums. It's sort of like what Castle has done by releasing what are supposedly the in-universe novels written by Richard Castle. Or like viral websites for in-universe entities like the Dharma Initiative or the Gotham Gazette, or those "Alternate Reality" computer games that let you act out game quests in the real world. It was really decades ahead of its time in creating that kind of interactive, immersive multimedia experience for its audience. And as a bonus, the "fictional" band turned out to actually be a pretty good real band that transcended its synthetic beginnings.
^ You're arguing with the Byrds and others who felt similarly at the time...I just presented a historical fact. The other side of the coin--the reason that song was written--was that the Monkees were at the time felt to be less legit by bands who'd worked their way up as bands--playing clubs, doing auditions, getting record contracts, all that stuff--and by music fans of the time who favored such bands. That said, the Monkees really weren't that much of a departure from the "Brill Building" model that dominated the American music scene in the early, pre-British Invasion '60s, which involved record companies having stables of interchangeable vocal groups whose entire product was crafted by teams of songwriters, producers, and session musicians in-house.
Yes, of course I know that attitude existed, but I'm allowed to disagree with it. As I said, I think it's looking at the question from the wrong side. The Monkees was, first and foremost, a TV sitcom. There was never any attempt to deny that. It seems disingenuous to me to denounce something as false when it makes no secret of being artificial. But it happened to be metafictional -- a show about a fictitious rock band that managed to project itself into the real world, to use real musicians who had real albums and concerts. As a band, of course they were more artificial; that isn't even a question. (At least, they were initially, before they grew beyond the show and the prepackaging.) But seeing them only as a band is misconstruing the point of the exercise. The Monkees was a TV show, and it was also an innovative experiment in multimedia interactive entertainment, decades ahead of its time. I mean, what about Spinal Tap? That's a fictional band that was created for a sketch comedy pilot and then featured in a "mockumentary" comedy film. And yet the band has released a number of real albums and singles and performed in concert. Nobody accuses them of being illegitimate, because everybody understands that they're a fictional construct operating metafictionally, that the albums and concerts are an extension of the fictitious conceit of the movie. The Monkees were basically the same thing, aside from the fact that their characters shared their real names and that the quantity of their released material was greater. And that they eventually went on to pursue music more seriously. Pretty much the same as modern boy bands and Disney Channel stars in the Miley Cyrus vein. But as a work of television comedy, The Monkees was a damn sight more innovative and boundary-breaking than Hannah Montana probably was (not that I've ever seen the latter). And I'd say they rose above the general prepackaged model by virtue of having Mike Nesmith doing his own original songs, which were generally much better than the Boyce/Hart and Neil Diamond stuff.
You do indeed need to see it; it's not as bad as people think, and less silly than The Monkees to boot (even if Hannah/Miley doesn't write her own songs.) Frankly, I find most of the bitching about current pop music to be quite tiresome; if people can't stand it, then they (Americans) should be writing their Congressperson/Senator to bring back the old regs governing how many radio stations can be owned by one company in a given market (the 1996 revision that gave permission for Clear Channel and others to do this is what caused pop music to be so predominant.) The organization in question's called the ACB (Atrocities, Cruelties & Brutalities), and yes, it was a dig at ABC, which refused Get Smart because it was 'unpatriotic'.