RIP the Endlessly Interesting Michael Nesmith
We live in a culture where people are expected to not only be relentlessly ambitious when it comes to acquiring status and stuff but ambitious in largely the same way. As citizens of a capitalist society, we’re expected to chase money and fame and wealth to the expense of all else, whether in the form of family or faith or peace of mind.
Because it’s angrily demanded that we spend our lives lurching desperately for that big brass ring, we have an innate reverence for people who acquire everything we’re supposed to want and then walk away at their height of their powers and popularity, turning their backs on extraordinary success.
That’s a big part of the reason Dave Chappelle was held in such high regard before he came back in the form of an insufferable transphobe. And it’s why J.D Salinger is a figure of legend, mystery and myth, an unknowable God, not just a good or important writer.
It also helps explain why Bill Watterson’s decision to not merchandise his comic strip or continue beyond a certain point when there were literally billions to be made from grinding out for another decade or two elevated him to the level of an American folk hero.
Our respect for these iconoclasts extends to the late Michael Nesmith, who signed on to become a rock and roll star as overtly as possible as it it to do so when he passed the audition for The Monkees.
By agree to portray a rock star named Michael Nesmith, he became a rock star named Michael Nesmith. Despite, or perhaps, because of the pre-fabricated nature of his initial stardom, Nesmith’s persona was defined, in no small way, by his profound and principled ambivalence towards pop stardom and commercial success.
Nesmith wasn’t an actor playing a singer, songwriter and musician. He was the real deal. And he wanted The Monkees’ albums to reflect the genuine talents of the Pre-Fab Four.
Head, the Monkees’ 1968 masterpiece of satire and subversion, written by an actor on the cusp of superstardom named Jack Nicholson, destroyed the group as a mainstream commercial proposition in the most ingenious and fearless manner possible.
The Monkees’ one and only movie represents one of the most brilliant and audacious acts of professional suicide in the history of pop culture.
But The Monkees were just too goddamn popular and irresistible to stay dead. So when MTV reruns of the show proved shockingly popular the band got back together with one very notable exception: Nesmith.
Nesmith was immune to the siren song of a big payday and a second chance to experience Monkee Mania. While a middle-aged Davy, Mickey and Peter wowed a whole new generation with their catchy songs and playful personas Nesmith said no.
As a child I did not understand that reaction. Who in their right mind would turn down being a rock star and doing sold out shows? But I respected the hell out of it, just as I respected Nesmith’s extraordinary accomplishments outside of the Monkees, whether in the form of Executive Producing Repo Man or playing a central role in the development of both country-rock and music videos. Nesmith won the very first Grammy for music videos for his influential cult project Elephant Parts.
Nesmith’s mother famously invented Liquid Paper. Nesmith could have just coasted on all that sweet, sweet Liquid Paper money but he was instead intent on making his own mark on the world.
Though Nesmith said no to the big tours in the 1980s, one of which featured “Weird Al” Yankovic as the opening act, he later relented and rejoined the Monkees in the aftermath of Davy Jones’ death for the well-received 2016 reunion album Good Times! and 2018’s Christmas Party.
When he died Nesmith had been touring with Mickey Dolenz as the Monkees for a farewell tour. I wish I had I listened to my instincts and seen Nesmith and Dolenz on that last go-round because I had a very strong, and as it turns out, correct, sense that it might be my last chance.
Nesmith was my favorite Monkee originally because he was smart and weird and intuitively subversive and rebellious. He was far and away the most interesting of the Monkees, in no small part because he was also the most complicated member and the one least interested in the tacky but irresistible trappings of big time pop stardom.
Buy The Joy of Trash, The Weird Accordion to Al and the The Weird Accordion to Al in both paperback and hardcover and The Weird A-Coloring to Al and The Weird A-Coloring to Al: Colored-In Special Edition signed from me personally (recommended) over at https://www.nathanrabin.com/shop
Or you can buy The Joy of Trash here and The Weird A-Coloring to Al here and The Weird Accordion to Al here
AND of course you can also pledge to this site and help keep the lights on at https://www.patreon.com/nathanrabinshappyplace