I guess it's official; I'm old. The heartthrob of the first rock band I ever followed has died. Davey Jones was "the cute one" of the Monkees, rather like Paul McCartney was of the Beatles. Personally, I was a fan of Mickey Dolenz, but the cute li'l Brit who played the tambourine was the be-all, end-all to my friends. I remember waiting every Monday night, 7 o'clock, to see what new song would be featured on the Keystone Kops-style program - lots of running around, fast-forward scenes where they were always in some kind of trouble. The very first music videos. And then the following day, it would be the hot topic of discussion among our pre-pubescent crowd of girls. Not that the music or the program were any great shakes; the made-for-TV group could just barely make it look or sound like they were musicians, and in fact it was always up for debate if they were lip-syncing and faking it or not.
But it's the idea that someone who is not that much older than I am - ten years - keeled over with little warning that caught me off guard. It does make one pause.....of the four of them, he was probably the one with the cleanest lifestyle. And yes, everyone will die eventually, it's the way of things. But when it's someone who's close to being a "contemporary", one stops to consider that there are more years behind than in front. A bit unsettling. And, like so many music groups, once one member dies, it negates the possibility of any future reunion - The Beatles are the most obvious, but I also think of Peter, Paul, and Mary - not only is Mary gone, but so is their bass player, Dick Kniss. I really like Peter and Paul, but it just wouldn't be the same. Crosby, Stills, and Nash wouldn't have the same panache with only two of the three....regardless of the permutation.
Another little piece of my adolescence....gone.
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