Hey, We're The Monkees!
Yeah, us—the guys they slapped together in 1966 to be America’s pretend Beatles. (Mission accomplished, right?) Some TV execs wanted four goofballs chasing fame and girls between bubblegum hits, and somehow, they got us: Micky, Davy, Mike, and Peter.
At first, they didn’t even let us play our own songs—imagine that! But we fought back, grabbed our instruments, and turned this TV joke into a real band. Sure, we split up, got back together, lost a few members along the way (love you, Davy), but the music never stopped. And neither did the monkey business.
Meet the Band (From the Horse's Mouth)
Micky here, the actor.
They hired me 'cause I could act, not sing—then stuck me behind the drums and told me to scream "Last Train to Clarksville" like my life depended on it. (Turns out, I was pretty good at it.) Still not sure how I became the "voice" of this operation, but hey, I'll take it.
Davy's the reason you all screamed.
Yeah, the tiny Brit with the big voice and even bigger cheekbones. I sang "Daydream Believer", played tambourine like my wrists were spring-loaded, and made sure every teen magazine had something to swoon over. (You're welcome.)
Mike, the one who took it seriously.
They called me the "smart Monkee" because I wore a wool hat indoors and wrote moody songs about, uh, existential despair. (Also invented MTV, but whatever.) Left first 'cause I had better things to do—like proving I wasn't just the guy who stood there looking grumpy.
Peter, the actual musician.
They cast me as the dummy, but jokes on them—I played like six instruments and quit first to go teach school. Came back for the reunions 'cause, let's face it, you can't resist this face. Or this banjo.
