WHO would have thought it - The Monkees turning a show that was far from disastrous and almost inspired in places? Two of them - Dolenz and Jones - tried hard, giving it that ol' zany, showbiz, summer season 100 per cent. Tork, in his ungainly but affecting way, proved himself the most versatile musician of the lot, concentrating hard on bass, guitar and keyboads, and looking to Nesmith for encouragement. Nesmith hovered in the shadows most of the time, performing in third gear, appearing a little quizzical about what on earth he was doing here, but entering, into the spirit of things with the odd gesture or remark every so often.
In fact, yes, just like the TV show. It was like, an absolute solid gold version of those besuited second division Merseybeat acts with diminishing original members doing that cabaret thing, and yet a glance at the audience demographic confirmed that The Monkees like The Beatles still have that indefinable appeal from simple pop nostalgia to psychedelic cult status.
They had an embarrassment of riches in old tunes to play, and some (not great) new ones to include. An interval of solo spots was an unnecessary indulgence, but they played the first half on their own (and who now says they can't play?) bringing on session men for the big numbers to finish.
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