Justus was released in late 1996 and was recorded and produced by all four members of The Monkees. Via their Facebook page, Friday Music will this summer issue what they are calling a deluxe edition Justus CD/DVD package. No further details as of right now as to what bonus tracks will be included or what the content of the DVD will include.
Friday Music had previously announced a vinyl release of Justus for this summer.
I just found this video on YouTube that was recently uploaded (I believe by former Monkees backing band keyboard player Dave Alexander) that shows The Monkees rehearsing "You and I" at Wembley Arena in 1997 during the Justus tour. The audio appears out of sync, but it's definitely interesting footage and something I haven't seen previously.
The deluxe edition will feature two bonus tracks. Peter's own "MGBGT" was recorded live on the '86 tour and was the b-side to "Heart and Soul." The single remix of "Every Step of the Way" is the second bonus track. (Where's the live version of "I'll Love You Forever," which was the b-side to "Every Step of the Way"?)
Also included in the deluxe edition for the first time on DVD is Rhino's Heart and Soul videography from 1988.
The Monkees' Justus (1996) is coming soon to vinyl
As announced recently by Friday Music (and don't forget to see my earlier blog post from this morning below):
COMING THIS SUMMER: This is what is slated for the near term, but there are more surprises we are working on right now too…..stay tuned.
THE MONKEES-Instant Replay 180 Gram Vinyl/Gatefold Cover (FIRST TIME GATEFOLD COVER AND AUDIOPHILE VINYL RELEASE) THE MONKEES-Justus 180 Gram Vinyl/Gatefold Cover (FIRST TIME ON VINYL! FIRST TIME AUDIOPHILE VINYL RELEASE)
A deluxe edition of The Monkees' 1987 album Pool It! was thought be released by Friday Music on March 27 but is now going to be released on April 24 as well. Their original announcement read like this:
Friday Music will be issuing the original compact disc with bonus tracks, plus a separate DVD of the super rare Monkees Rhino Video HEART & SOUL- The Official Monkees Videography. The liner notes also feature a recent conversation with Micky Dolenz, as well as the usual cool rare picture sleeves, 45 rpm labels, and other cool photos and elements from the original 1987 release.
Check out a new video posted of The Monkees arriving in London in 1967 for the British portion of their tour that year here. The 1968 Far East Tour section has a new picture of the band arriving in Tokyo for the Japanese shows that year, and the DJBH section has a new photograph of the quartet.
Here's a video I recently uploaded to YouTube of Davy on the Today show in 1984:
'For me David was The Monkees. They were his band. We were his side men.' by: Andy Greene
Michael Nesmith (best known as the Monkee in the green wool hat) has largely stayed out of the limelight since the group split over forty years ago, though he released a series of acclaimed country-rock albums in the early 1970s and helped lay the groundwork for MTV in the early 1980s. His mother invented Liquid Paper, and left him the bulk of her massive fortune – giving him little incentive to join the Monkees on their many reunion tours. In 1996, however, he shocked fans by reuniting with the band for the album Justus and a brief European tour the next year. That was the last time he spent any real time with Davy Jones, but the singer's death brought back a flood of memories and he agreed to speak with Rolling Stone through e-mail.
What's your first memory of meeting Davy? I think, not certainly, that I met him on the stage where we were doing the screen tests. He seemed confident and part of the proceedings, charming, outgoing.
It's clear the producers cast each of you for different reasons. Why do you think they selected Davy? What did he bring to the group that was unique? I think David was the first one selected and they built the show around him. English (all the rage), attractive, and a very accomplished singer and dancer, right off the Broadway stage from a hit musical. None of the other three of us had any of those chops.
Is there one anecdote that stands out in your mind that personifies Monkee-mania at its peak? It was nonstop from the moment the show aired, so there was a constant hyper-interest in the group of us – the meter was maxxed and stayed that way for a couple of years. Once in Cleveland we strayed from our bodyguards into the plaza where a train station, or some public transport hub, was letting out thousands of fans for the concert we were on the way to give. They spotted David and the chase was on. We were like the rabbit – fleeing in blind panic. We saw a police car and jumped in the back seat, blip, blip, blip, blip, – squashed together shoulder to shoulder in our concert duds, and slammed the door just as the tsunami of pink arms closed over the car's windows. We were relieved. The cops were freaked out. They drove us to the station and our guys picked us up and we did the show. But it was like that when the four of us were together, Davy in front – pandemonium. One missed step and we were running.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but the story tends to go that you (and to a slightly lesser extent Peter) got frustrated pretty early on with your lack of control over the Monkees music. Davy had a Broadway background and was pretty used to following orders. Did he share your frustrations at first? If not, explain how his views evolved to the point that he was eager to join your battle against Kirshner and the label. You are not completely wrong, but "frustrated" is the wrong word. We were confused, especially me. But all of us shared the desire to play the songs we were singing. Everyone was accomplished – the notion I was the only musician is one of those rumors that got started and wont stop – but it was not true. Peter was a more accomplished player than I by an order of magnitude, Micky and Davy played and sang and danced and understood music. Micky had learned to play drums, and we were quite capable of playing the type of songs that were selected for the show. We were also kids with our own taste in music and were happier performing songs we liked – and/or wrote – than songs that were handed to us. It made for a better performance. It was more fun. That this became a bone of contention seemed strange to me, and I think to some extent to each of us – sort of "what's the big deal – why won't you let us play the songs we are singing?" This confusion of course betrayed an ignorance of the powers that were and the struggle that was going on for control between the show's producers in Hollywood and the New York-based publishing company owned by Screen Gems. The producers backed us and David went along. None of us could have fought the battles we did without the explicit support of the show's producers.
Some have described the movie Head as "career suicide." How did you feel about it at the time? Did you have concerns that it would alienate and confuse a huge segment of your audience? Looking back, was it a mistake? Looking back it was inevitable. Don't forget that by the time Head came out the Monkees were a pariah. There was no confusion about this. We were on the cosine of the line of approbation, from acceptance to rejection – the cause for this is another discussion not for here – and it was basically over. Head was a swan song. We wrote it with Jack and Bob – another story not for here – and we liked it. It was an authentic representation of a phenomenon we were a part of that was winding down. It was very far from suicide – even though it may have looked like that. There were some people in power, and not a few critics, who thought there was another decision that could have been made. But I believe the movie was an inevitability – there was no other movie to be made that would not have been ghastly under the circumstances.
In your estimation, why did the Monkees burn out so quickly? The whole thing ended after little more than two years. That is a long discussion – and I can only offer one perspective of a complex pattern of events. The most I care to generalize at this point is to say there was a type of sibling suppression that was taking place unseen. The older sibling followed the Beatles and Stones and the sophistication of a burgeoning new world order – the younger siblings were still playing on the floor watching television. The older siblings sang and danced and shouted and pointed to a direction they assumed the Monkees were not part of and pushed the younger sibling into silence. The Monkees went into that closet. This is all retrospect, of course – important to focus on the premise that "no one thought the Monkees up." The Monkees happened – the effect of a cause still unseen, and dare I say it, still at work and still overlooked as it applies to present day.
Do you think Davy enjoyed the experience of being a Monkee more than you did? If so, why? I can only speculate. For me David was The Monkees. They were his band. We were his side men. He was the focal point of the romance, the lovely boy, innocent and approachable. Micky was his Bob Hope. In those two – like Hope and Crosby – was the heartbeat of the show.
The incident in which you punched a hole in a wall during a fight with Kirshner has been told so many times over the years it almost feels apocryphal. At the very least, the notion you were fighting about "Sugar Sugar" seems to have been debunked. What's your memory of that incident? Did Davy ever convey a feeling to you were rocking the boat too much after scenes like that? David continually admonished me to calm down and do what I was told. From day one. His advice to me was to approach the show like a job, do my best, and shut up, take the money, and go home. Micky the same. I had no idea what they were talking about at the time, or why. The hole in the wall had nothing to do with "Sugar Sugar." It was the release of an angry reaction to a personal affront. The stories that circulate are as you say – apocryphal.
Do you have a favorite Davy Jones-sung Monkees song? If so, what makes it your favorite? "Daydream Believer." The sensibility of the song is [composer] John Stewart at his best, IMHO – it has a beautiful undercurrent of melancholy with a delightful frosting, no taste of bitterness. David's cheery vocal leads us all in a great refrain of living on love alone.
What's your fondest memory of your time with Davy? He told great jokes. Very nicely developed sense of the absurd – Pythonesque – actually, Beyond the Fringe – but you get my point. We would rush to each other anytime we heard a new joke and tell it to each other and laugh like crazy. David had a wonderful laugh, infectious. He would double up, crouching over his knees, and laugh till he ran out of breath. Whether he told the joke or not. We both did.
A memorial for Davy at The Monkees' star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame
Monkees historian Andrew Sandoval paid tribute to Davy Jones on his Come to the Sunshine podcast. There are plenty of Davy and Monkees rarities, alternate mixes and interviews to be heard. Check it out here.
Peter Tork recently appeared on the Iain Lee Pocket Radio Show in tribute to Davy, which can be heard below. Fast forward in about 25 minutes to hear Peter.
I wrote an article after the death of Michael Jackson in which I meditated upon the inner life of the pop star.
Now comes the loss of my sometime partner Davy Jones, and I'm in an entirely different position. I was close to David (as I almost always called him), and I got to know him as few others could.
I've often said I loved, liked and respected each of the other three Monkees in different proportions. What I don't often say is that I loved David the most.
When we first met, I was confronted with a slick, accomplished, young performer, vastly more experienced than I in the ways of show biz, and yes, I was intimidated. Englishness was at a high premium in my world, and his experience dwarfed my entertainer's life as a hippie, basket-passing folk singer on the Greenwich Village coffee house circuit. If anything, I suppose I was selected for the cast of"The Monkees" TV show partly as a rough-hewn counterpart to David's sophistication.
What stands out for me about David, however, were the several events through the years in which I came to see a man of extraordinary heart and sympathy. First comes first:
We had just been selected as co-cast members and introduced to each other. Shake hands, "How do you do?" The producers sent us out to the desert, a drive of a couple of hours, to film a commercial for Kellogg's, which was sponsoring he show.
We were almost entirely silent throughout the drive. "Nice day." "Huh." Silence. "Anyone hungry?" "Hunh." We pulled into a diner, sat down and ordered. For some reason, Micky Dolenz's and my salads came first. He and I basically stuck our forks into the bowls, and put whatever came up into our mouths.
"You pigs!" David said. "Anyone would think you was raised in a bahn the ways you guys is eatin'!" Micky and I were shamefaced.
David's salad came. With all eyes upon him, he carefully cut the salad into one-inch strips, turned the bowl 90 degrees and cut the strips into one-inch squares. He doused it all with creamy dressing. Then, he reached into the bowl, grabbed a fistful of the salad and smashed it into his face.
I suppose he felt he'd overdone the manners maven thing and was making it up to us, but it was the style and willingness to go overboard that was so appealing, and more to the point, so very funny. I laugh to this day thinking about it.
The Monkees (the group now, not the TV series) took a lot of flack for being "manufactured," by which our critics meant that we hadn't grown up together, paying our dues, sleeping five to a room, trying to make it as had the Beatles and Rolling Stones. Furthermore, critics said, the Monkees' first albums (remember albums?) were almost entirely recorded by professional studio musicians, with hardly any input from any of us beyond lead vocals.
I felt this criticism keenly, coming as I did from the world of the ethical folk singer, basically honoring the standards of the naysayers.
We did play as a group live on tour, including a concert in Osaka, Japan, in 1968. There, in the middle of a performance of Mike Nesmith's "Sunny Girlfriend," we hit the pocket. The beat fell into place, solid and grooving. Rock 'n' roll was happening there for us on stage. David came bouncing over to me and yelled above the volume, "WE'RE GONNA FORM A GROUP!"
David's sympathy for my feelings about the criticism, his musical awareness and his sense of humor buoyed me that day about as much as getting into the groove. Later, when we four argued to be the musicians on our own albums, it was David's agreement that provided the unanimity that made the difference. This was huge, actually; Micky and David came from an entirely different tradition. Actors sang on records made for them, and nobody thought twice about it. Folkies and rockers made their own albums!
There were many such incidents, but I hope these help to convey David Jones' sympathy, humor and heart, qualities always in too short supply.
This cartoon from the Hartford Courant is being syndicated across the country this weekend.
Since Davy's passing, I've received a lot of nice emails to the site. Gustavo from Mexico sent me a picture I have never seen before of Mike and Micky being interviewed in Mexico City in 1969. The other photo you'll recognize from the back cover of the Present album, showing Davy and Mike performing in Mexico in 1969.
Mike and Micky are interviewed in Mexico City, 1969 (From the collection of Gustavo Z.)
Davy Jones and Mike Nesmith perform in Mexico City during the 1969 tour