Michael Nesmith (1942-2021)

I was crushed by the news that Michael Nesmith had died. I was at work yesterday morning when I heard, which sucked because at that moment I just needed to listen to records and have a long cry. You know? But I muddled through the day, while surrounded by people who mostly didn’t know who I was talking about, which made it worse. How could they be unaware of someone who had such a tremendous impact on my life? It made me feel disconnected. We don’t have a common culture anymore. But that’s another story, I suppose.

I started listening to The Monkees when I was four years old. It was 1976, and re-runs of the television show were being aired on Channel 56 in Massachusetts. I was hooked immediately, on both the comedy and the music. The Monkees were my first favorite band, and Michael Nesmith seemed to be the group’s leader. He came across as more serious, which made his comedy all the more hilarious. Of all the members, he offered the most surprises. And he wrote some of the best songs. All the Monkees contributed material, but Mike was the real songwriter of the group, writing not only most of the songs that he sang, but many that Micky Dolenz sang lead on as well, songs like “Mary, Mary,” “Daily Nightly” and “Auntie Municipal Court” (that last being one of my all-time favorite songs). In 1986, The Monkees reunited for a tour, and I was thrilled to finally – after ten years – be able to see my favorite band in concert. Only one problem: Mike Nesmith was not with them. He was busy with other projects. The show was still wonderful, and I saw the band several more times. And even though Mike wasn’t touring with The Monkees during those years, he ended up being the first member of the group that I met. He did a solo show in a park in Oregon in the 1990s, and after the show I was able to just walk right up to him. I didn’t realize it would be that easy, and so I wasn’t prepared. I had nothing for him to sign, just a tiny notebook I kept in my back pocket. And so he signed a page torn from that.

It wasn’t until after the death of Davy Jones in 2012 that I got to see Mike perform with The Monkees. The first time was in 2014 in New Hampshire at Casino Ballroom. I was beside myself with joy at getting to hear him sing “Sunny Girlfriend,” “Tapioca Tundra” and “Circle Sky.” Then in 2016, there was a rumor that the Los Angeles show at Pantages Theatre would be his final appearance with the group, and I made sure to attend that concert. It turned out not to be the case, of course, for he and Micky went out on the road together in 2018, and I was able to catch a show on that tour. The Monkees had long been good about pulling out some surprising songs, including “All Of Your Toys,” “She Hangs Out,” “Can You Dig It” and “D.W. Washburn,” and this tour  included such beloved deep cuts and rarities as “Steam Engine,” “St. Matthew,” “Nine Times Blue” and “Auntie’s Municipal Court.” The shows on that tour also included a short acoustic segment at the beginning of the second set. It was a magical night. Then in 2019 I had the great fortune of being able to see Mike Nesmith perform in the rather intimate Troubadour in West Hollywood. Micky Dolenz, by the way, was in the audience that night. The pandemic caused the next Monkees tour to be postponed, and when the band was finally able to go back on the road, it was under the banner of their Farewell Tour. That tour ended just a few weeks ago with a final show at the Greek Theatre here in Los Angeles. The most powerful and moving moment of that show came early in the second set when Mike Nesmith sang “While I Cry,” a song from the Instant Replay LP. It was fantastic to hear that song, and the entire performance was incredible, but at the very end it seemed to me that his voice broke. I glanced up at the screen, and saw there were tears in his eyes. It was at that moment that I believe it really hit him that this was his final concert, and it was at that moment that we in the audience believed it as well. And we all knew how much it meant to both him and us. At that moment, the Greek Theatre felt as intimate as Troubadour. It was something I’ll never forget, and I doubt very much that anyone else who attended will forget either.

Michael Nesmith will certainly be missed.