Hard to Believe: The Death of Davy Jones

For only the second time in the history of A Shroud of Thoughts (the first was when Doug Fieger of The Knack died), I am too upset to write a proper eulogy. It was today that Davy Jones of The Monkees died at the young age of 66. I have never known a world without Davy Jones. He and The Monkees have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Is it any wonder then that I feel as if I have lost a beloved friend or cousin?

In fact, I cannot remember the first time I ever watched The Monkees. I know from my earliest memories that it was the first TV show I watched loyally. The Monkees was in reruns for much of my childhood and it was a rare thing indeed that I ever missed an episode. I also cannot remember the first time I ever heard a Monkees song. When I was very young The Monkees' songs were still frequently played on the radio. What is more, my sister is much older than me and owned the original LPs from the mid to late Sixties. My brother and I played them so often it is a wonder that they had not worn out.  The Monkees was in many respects the perfect show for me, a show set in a fantasy world where a struggling rock group could fight gangsters and aliens and win. The Monkees' music was also perfect for me. It was some of the earliest and most sophisticated power pop, easily on par with that of The Beatles or The Who.

While Mike Nesmith was always my favourite Monkee, I have to say I always identified with Davy. Like myself he was short and slender. Indeed, in many respects he was the perfect role model for me. Despite being below average in height, he was always confident and charming. And on The Monkees it was always Davy who got the girl. To some that might not seem important, but to a young man who was slightly shorter than most people (and I must point out even I was taller than Davy), it was very important to see someone who did not let his height determine who he was.

Of course, Davy was a role model in more ways than one. From my fellow Monkees fans who were lucky enough to meet him and from reports from various celebrities who had the opportunity to interact with him, Davy was always kind and soft spoken. Quite simply, he was the perfect English gentleman. One could do so much worse than behave in his life as Davy did in his.

Tomorrow I will write a proper eulogy, but for now I will leave you with two of my favourite Monkees songs on which Davy Jones sang lead. The first is "Valleri," written by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. The second is "Forget That Girl," written by Chip Douglas.