Wednesday, 29 February 2012
I was going to tell you all about the conferences and meetings I've attended this week, along with getting the loo fixed, the car serviced and my blood tested. I would have continued in this same vein for a page or two, ensuring that my few faithful readers' patience would have been completely exhausted.
Instead life has landed a whammy. Davy Jones has died.
My late teens were taken up with "The Monkees"; their Californian fun and frolics a cross between "Batman" and "The Beverly Hillbillies". They were old fashioned in a relatively modern sort of way. Safe, friendly and no doubt with proud mums looking on.
Not brash and ugly like "The Stones", nor brash and pretty like "The Doors". They were as far away from "Subterranean Homesick Blues" as the "Black Hills of Dakota".
Hard rockers and mods called them manufactured. Which they were, but unlike "The Spice Girls" there was deep down - solid gold. They were lucky enough to have "I'm A Believer" and " Last Train To Clarkesville" two songs that still sound fresh and positive. (By the way, Neil Diamond's version of "..Believer.." is stonking). And their shows were fun, in a totally meaningless way.
They were before Rock turned to the Dark Side. For them getting high was a balloon ride. For me it chimed with Herman and the Hermit's "I'm Into Something Good" and the Ivy League's "Funny How Love Can Be".
A year later I was at University and it was The Cream, Julie Driscoll and Buffalo Springfield. I'd seen the Dark Side and it was irresistible.
Farewell another leaf of my innocence, my home town, and first true love. Davy's joined Del, Buddy, Jim and the Big O. What a heavenly choir.
We've all got to be Believers.....