THE ALBUMS THAT RUINED US: “Pool It!” by The Monkees

*sigh*

Oh this one’s going to hurt to write about.

For those who don’t know, I love The Monkees, and I mean love The Monkees. I was gifted a copy of their first album by an old friend, and before I knew it I was diving deep into their TV show, their movie Head, and just about every Monkees thing imaginable from during their original run as a band from 1966 to 1970. Eventually I even went and got a copy of Good Times, their 2016 reunion effort which brought together the then-surviving members of The Monkees for an album that arguably holds up incredibly well, even among their original albums.

The same can not be said of their other two “reunion” efforts, but only one is truly worthy of an THE ALBUMS THAT RUINED US feature, and that’s their 1987 reunion effort Pool It!. So why this particular effort as compared to their 1997 release Justus which featured all four members of the band for the first time in 30ish years but couldn’t really find the tunes to back up the hype? Why not Changes, the final album from their original run which saw The Monkees become a shell of their former selves to finish off a contractual obligation? Hell, why not the soundtrack to Head which would become their lowest-charting album until after Peter Tork left the group?

Well, before I can get into all of that I need to get into who The Monkees even were before they decided to come back 17 years later, and the shenanigans they got into (a little “monkeying around,” you see) in the meantime.

The Monkees didn’t really start off as a band, they started off as the center-points of a TV show that was based around a fictional band with the main cast being Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, Peter Tork and Mike Nesmith. Yes, they did eventually become a real band, but it was only after the success of their TV show and a couple of records had been released, leading to a widespread demand for public concert appearances while simultaneously terrorizing the pop charts. Their first four records hit number 1 on the Billboard charts and not only did this lead to Mike Nesmith getting away with lying to the press in 1967 about The Monkees outselling The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, but this lie would go completely unchecked until 2017 when Nesmith told the story in his autobiography about lying to this reporter who printed the lie as fact. This is the sort of impact The Monkees had, and while they had a fair share of success they also got a lot of somewhat-unwarranted flack for a handful of things such as not playing their own instruments on their first two records (an issue that would be remedied on the 1967 effort Headquarters where they played and wrote their own music), and despite both the upfront honesty about how the sausage gets made and later attempts to “become a real band,” their reputation as a manufactured pop group is more-or-less solidified. Never mind that plenty of bands were doing the exact same thing in the 60s with groups like The Wrecking Crew, The Monkees would be the ones taking most of the ire and scorn from press and critics alike from that point on. Eventually the band falls apart piece by piece as Peter Tork leaves the group in 1968, Michael Nesmith leaves in 1970, and the group continues as a duo before putting out one final record, Changes with just Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz. That album is, at best, inessential, but it saw The Monkees go from being a manufactured pop group to fighting tooth and nail to be the real thing before eventually reverting back to the manufactured pop of their early records. It’s a sad career arc from a band who history would end up being particularly kind to and give a long-lasting legacy.

Due in part to TV reruns of The Monkees still giving the group some popularity even in their absence, Dolenz and Jones would eventually team up in 1976 with Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, two of the songwriters who wrote most of The Monkees’ early hits including “Last Train to Clarksville,” “I’m Not Your Steppin’ Stone,” “Words,” and “Valleri” to do a reunion album under the name Dolenz, Jones, Boyce and Hart and they would market it as “the guys who wrote ’em and the guys who sang ’em.” This album is also somewhat inessential, and no one really talks about in the way they do with the other records, if only because it lacks the actual Monkees name despite being a de-facto Monkees reunion album. The group would eventually go their own separate ways after the album is released and a subsequent tour follows it.

The year is 1986 when MTV, then in its relative infancy, shows a Monkees marathon over a weekend in February. A few months later Peter, Micky, and Davy announce that they’re going out on the road to do a 20th anniversary tour celebrating The Monkees. Mike Nesmith is unfortunately not able to attend due to previous commitments with his video production company, though he does join the band on stage in 1986 for a two-song encore featuring his number “Listen To The Band.” It’s also worth noting that unlike his fellow band mates, Mike Nesmith isn’t in a financial bind like the others presumably are because when his mother, the inventor of liquid paper, passes away Mike receives a hefty inheritance from her which left him in a more-or-less financially secure place for the rest of his life. So Nez is out, but we still have the other three Monkees here! A month after the band gets back on the road a greatest hits collection is released which includes three new songs recorded by the group; “That Was Then, This Is Now,” “Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere,” and a cover of “Kicks,” originally by Paul Revere and The Raiders. They’re all pretty good, but they feel a bit too “80’s” and “synthetic” for my tastes, but that’s just me.

By this time The Monkees are singularly one of the hottest acts of the year going into 1987, and a certain special guest would open up for the group during this time but behind the scenes certain things are starting to unravel; Davy Jones refuses to be on stage when the group would sing any of the new recordings from the greatest hits comp because he wasn’t involved with it, and even outright said he would leave the tour if “Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere” would be released as a follow-up single to “That Was Then, This Is Now.” Elsewhere MTV starts to reject any further Monkees material because of what is reported to be a misunderstanding between the group and MTV over appearing on their Super Bowl special as Davy Jones was out of the country at the time. They try to angle it as “oh The Monkees are no longer popular like they were last year” despite the fact that the band had basically been riding a revival of Monkeemania and viewers had been flooding their request lines to see the new music video that acted as the lead-off single to what would be the first official Monkees album in 17 years. Keep in mind, this was back in the days where MTV still played music and had a major say in what was and wasn’t a “hit” so this became something of a slap in the face to a band who had helped build the network up and vice versa.

Alright, so if MTV won’t show the new music video then I will. Here’s the first single and the opening track off of their latest album Pool It! entitled “Heart and Soul.”

The music video is kind of funny, the whole concept of The Monkees having to adapt to the times because of how things changed since the 60s is some… well… some good clean fun. As for the song itself, this is closer to what I was hoping for from a reunion Monkees single; it’s very much the sort of song that fits in Micky’s wheelhouse as a singer, the production isn’t too obnoxious, and the synthesizers aren’t too “in your face,” though I guess my main complaint is that the guitars sound too small and thin for such a big song. I guess you could say that stranger things have happened, but let’s keep moving onward.

This song is called “(I’d Go The) Whole Wide World” and it’s a cover of a Wreckless Eric song from 1977. The original has a very 60s taste to it so it makes sense that The Monkees would want to take a stab at their own version of it, but what even is this? It feels like the arrangement and production are a total mess, the drum machine they’re using isn’t doing the song any favors, and with how much of a mess the production is I can barely hear much of anything outside the guitar, vocals, and drums. I’d think if you’re going to try and sound “vintage” like that then why not just fully commit? What does the band have to gain from trying to do these over-the-top 80’s-styled remakes of other songs?

“Long Way Home” comes after that particularly head-scratching inclusion and this time Davy Jones takes the lead vocal. All I can really say is that honestly I had to listen to this song by itself a handful of times because there’s absolutely nothing notable about it whatsoever, it’s a down-tempo 80’s ballad with that same ugly drum machine, the same synthetic sounds, and Davy’s voice hasn’t aged too much but it has gotten noticeably worse. You can kinda hear how he has to strain himself to hit the higher notes or to move into a different gear, energy-wise.

Up next is “Secret Heart” and the intro to it is kinda questionable, but honestly I think I kinda like this one. Those little funky guitar stabs and the saxophone solo work on this in more of a Hall & Oates way than not. Micky Dolenz’s voice is in top form, way better than the songs that came before it. It’s one of the better songs I’ve heard on here but I still can’t help but wonder why this sounds like The Monkees were more focused on getting play on The Weather Channel instead of on the radio.

Peter Tork writes and sings this next one, it’s called “Gettin’ In.” Peter Tork doing vocals on a Monkees album feels like a relatively novel concept because during the original run of the band he only sang on four songs; the goofy-as-fuck “Your Auntie Grizelda,” a few lines on a verse of “Shades of Gray,” a few lines again on a duet for “Words,” and on the Tork-penned composition “Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again.” On this song, Tork brings his best Wang Chung impression and honestly this one also works way better than I was expecting it to. At first I heard the opening synths and let out a big groan, but then they subside and when the vocals kick in it all comes together. I wouldn’t have suspected that Peter Tork would be the best one to show “The Monkees for a new era” but it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to have happened. (Bonus beats: here’s a live clip of Tork performing the song. This is kind of rad as fuck, if I’m being honest.)

Davy Jones goes next with his own self-penned song “(I’ll) Love You Forever.” This is the sort of thing I was expecting Davy to come swinging out the gates with, honestly. Davy’s strong suits were always on those sweet gentle ballads and the fact that this is one he wrote himself shows that he knew his own strengths just as well as the next person. The synthesizers just work, the gentle nature of the track is on point, and it might be the closest we get to “60’s Monkees” on this album.

Alright, so at this point we’re about halfway through the record. So why are we going off in this direction? Why does the album sound like this exactly? As it turns out, according to the album’s producer Roger Béchirian the band specifically wanted to go in more of a “modern” direction much to his chagrin. You have to understand that Béchirian wasn’t just some Monkees fanboy, this was a man who produced for artists like Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, and The Undertones. He was known for working primarily with garage rock bands and producing the sort of albums that would’ve been perfect for a Monkees comeback LP, and sure he did work with Wang Chung on their first album, but The Monkees were more likely to make their own “Cruel To Be Kind” than to make “Everybody Have Fun Tonight.” This change in direction along with a lot of the behind-the-scenes issues the group had stem directly towards Davy Jones and what he wanted Pool It! to sound like, so that’s why the album has those syrupy ballads, it’s why Tork doesn’t get much singing time on this record despite his one contribution so far standing out more than everything except “Heart and Soul,” and it’s a major part of why The Monkees were ultimately not built for the 80s. I get that Davy had a lot riding on this album though; he had a career in theater before The Monkees and was even featured doing a number from a then-recent theater gig on a very important episode of The Ed Sullivan Show. Why was it important? You can take a guess as to who else was in that episode. When The Monkees disbanded Davy didn’t really have the success he predicted he would have with a solo career, having only released two regular studio albums between 1970 and 1986, and outside a few appearances in a few movies and TV shows he basically fell off the face of the earth. With that said it wouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to find out that Davy had a lot banking on the Monkees reunion album and was trying to be the band quarterback in lieu of Mike Nesmith in his absence. I don’t normally like to speculate and point fingers in such a way, but make no mistake, all the research I did for this article point directly to Davy Jones as a major issue behind the scenes.

Davy also sounds like a problem on the opener to side b and second single from the album, “Every Step of the Way.” What the hell even is this?? This would’ve worked if they were committed to the 60’s aesthetic but instead we get this weird attempt at 80’s pop metal complete with another saxophone solo thrown in there. I think the saxophone is the only thing that doesn’t sound over-produced to hell and back and it’s the best part of the song. Davy’s vocals on this are also questionable at best, he sounds like he’s trying to force himself to have a little more gruff in his voice and that’s just not Davy Jones. Look, you are who you are guy, and yeah Davy has dipped his toes in the harder, punchier side of rock on previous Monkees tunes but he never had to force himself to sound like something that he clearly wasn’t. It’s a shame because underneath it all there really is something that could’ve been something with this song.

Micky takes the mic back on “Don’t Bring Me Down,” which was written by Mark Clarke and Ian Hunter. I only bring this up because when I checked to see who they were I audibly went, “wait, Ian Hunter is one of the guys from MOTT THE HOOPLE? Now there’s a band I haven’t thought about in a long time.” I digress, but this song is actually pretty good, underrated even, so I’ll give it a thumbs up. The aesthetic of the record as a whole works in this song’s favor and the horn synths that close it out don’t feel as obnoxious as some of the other synths I heard on the earlier tracks. I could’ve seen this working as a possible third single to the album or even as the follow-up to “Heart and Soul,” but I still assume that Davy wanted to have a single for himself instead so here we are.

Dolenz also sings on the next track, “Midnight.” Honestly I kinda like this one, I don’t normally think of “funk” when I think of The Monkees, but goddamn does this kinda rip. It helps that Micky has a knack for being able to blend in with whatever environment a backing track finds him being placed in. Honestly, he could’ve probably been given some lo-fi black metal track and he would absolutely crush it, but that’s the power of Micky Dolenz. A lot of people really like this song, too, at least if YouTube comments are anything to go off of. I guess my only criticism, and it’s nitpicky at that, is that the song goes on for a bit too long; it’s four-and-a-half minutes long but it could easily be half that time length and it would still work. Oh well, you can’t always get what you want I guess.

The next track is probably one of the more bizarre offerings I could show on any THE ALBUMS THAT RUINED US article. The Monkees have tried their hands at a lot of genres; pop-rock, funk, soul, country, showtunes, even stuff with Native chanting. On here they’ve tried new-wave, dance pop, 80’s adult contemporary ballads, but “She’s Movin’ In With Rico” takes on another genre previously unexplored; reggae. And god does this thing sound like ass. Davy Jones sounds like he’s trying his hardest to do this vaguely Jamaican accent while he recounts the tale of being dumped and heartbroken by his lover because, as the title suggests, she’s moving in with Rico instead. But we know nothing about this Rico character other than he’s “everybody’s hero.” This might be the worst Monkees track I’ve ever heard, and I’ve sat through all their studio albums. THAT should tell you a lot.

Peter Tork gets his second vocal contribution of the album with “Since You Went Away” and this is also a nice little song for Tork to sing. It’s on-par with the goofier side of the songs he would typically sing with The Monkees, and it shows especially at the end in the fade-out when he commits to being the silliest person in the room. Apparently this is a re-recording of a song he did with his post-Monkees band Peter Tork and The New Monks, and that version kinda kicks serious ass in a way the Pool It! version doesn’t, but that’s still an upgrade from B+ to an A, so congrats for having the highest batting average on this album, Peter, and may you rest in peace.

The album finally closes off with another soft ballad from Davy called “Counting On You.” This is the exact sort of arena-rock ballad I would’ve expected more of on this album, right down to the guitar solo coming about 3/4ths of the way through it. Davy didn’t write this one but the fact he sang some of these clunky lyrics though is not exactly working in his favor. Ultimately it’s not a bad song but it also feels like a fart of a nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Alright, the album’s done. It felt like such a slog to get through this thing, honestly. Is the album any good? Oh, far from it. A couple good songs on an album does not make for a good album, and unfortunately even with the couple of good songs on here we do not have a good album. I don’t even know what to say about this album other than oh god why does this even exist? I’m blown away that this even exists, I’m amazed that Peter Tork’s songs are some of the best on here, I’m shocked that Davy Jones had to drop so many stinkers you would’ve thought it was a rest stop bathroom, and I can’t believe Micky Dolenz does as well with the material as he does. I don’t think some of the songs on here are necessary at all, especially “(I’d Go The) Whole Wide World,” I don’t see much of a need for “Rico” either, and generally we’ve got an EP of good songs here at best.

I’m flabbergasted, but what did critics think of it? Believe it or not it was pretty hard to find contemporary reviews for it, but I did find one from the LA Times which told you all you needed to know when their opening blub reads “hey hey, it’s a letdown!”

Woof.

In modern-day reviews; AllMusic gave it a 1-and-a-half out of five star review and a fairly brutal takedown in the form of, “this is normally the part of a review where the reviewer would advise this release for die-hard fans only, but I can’t even suggest that, as no one should be subjected to such poor quality unless they’re a collector or completist — and even then it’s best to keep Pool It! in its original packing, if anything to increase the resale value.”

Woof.

Well what did audiences think of it? Pretty much every music review site that isn’t Amazon also shits on this thing pretty mercilessly as well. I did find this one tidbit from Monkees Live Almanac where they asked people what their top 2 favorite songs on the album were and these were the results they came to.

The real shock here is that “She’s Movin’ In With Rico” isn’t ranked dead last.

For someone who doesn’t like doing so, I’ve been making conclusions left and right about this album here, but I do have one theory as to why this album ultimately stalled The Monkees’ potential for a longer wave of success during their reunion stage, and it doesn’t have as much to do with the music as one may assume, but rather it’s got a lot to do with the cover art. Seriously, take a look at this thing again and really look at it for good measure.

When Monkeemania 2.0 kicked off it was because a new generation of kids had been introduced to The Monkees via the TV marathons and the older albums, so in a way their look was still permanently stuck in the 60s. With the cover to Pool It! they looked less like the hot guys you’d find out at the pool and instead they looked more like the creepy uncles you’d see poolside at the family BBQ, especially Davy Jones whose mullet does him no favors. It might sound a bit mean to pin it entirely on their looks, but some folks certainly do still judge an album by its cover, and the music inside doesn’t give it much of a fighting chance either.

The worst thing to consider is that The Monkees didn’t need to go the route they did, they could’ve gone back to the sounds of the 60s and fit right in with bands like The Bangles or R.E.M. who were making their bread and butter doing jangly alt-rock that was reminiscent of the era The Monkees came from. Roger Béchirian also publicly stated that if Peter Tork had more of a say in what went on the album Pool It! wouldn’t have been as weak of an album as it ended up being, but of course Davy Jones wanted to have more of a say in what went on what, and it’s a shame we may never fully get to hear what Tork could’ve brought to the table. The aftermath of this whole ordeal wasn’t brought upon by just the album alone, but it sure as shit culminated with it and it spelled disaster for Micky, Davy, and Peter. In short; they would continue to tour for a couple years after the fact but Monkeemania 2.0 was over the second that album went out onto shelves across the country.

Davy Jones passed in 2012, Peter Tork passed in 2019, and Mike Nesmith passed away in 2021, leaving Micky Dolenz as the last man standing. In the wake of their respective passings as well as watching fans go blue in the face trying to get the band nominated to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, history has become particularly kind to the pre-fab four. Their 1966-1970 run of albums as well as Good Times reminded folks that The Monkees were just that good and with more people embracing the commonplace knowledge of 60s bands using session musicians combined with their interesting story as a group there’s been something of a change in attitude regarding the band. In 2023 The Monkees legacy is secure, but 1987 was the year that The Monkees went for broke and it didn’t work out for them out of a desire to sound more “modern,” but Pool It! was far from the worst failure to come from Monkeemania 2.0. That honor goes to The New Monkees, but that’s a story for another day. Stay tuned.

This is Harvey VD reminding you to kick out the ROUGE! motherfuckers!! Peace.

(…P.S., here’s 1980s DC hardcore punk legends Minor Threat covering “I’m Not Your Steppin’ Stone” in case you wanted to hear covers coming from unlikely bands.)