It starts with a splash. Not a metaphorical one, but a literal, echoing dive into the Pacific Ocean that signaled the end of an era. When Micky Dolenz hit the water at the beginning of the 1968 film Head, the bubbly, manufactured image of "The Prefab Four" didn't just drown—it dissolved into a shimmering, hallucinogenic dreamscape. That’s the power of the Porpoise Song theme from Head the Monkees, a track that stands as one of the most hauntingly beautiful pieces of psychedelic pop ever recorded.
Honestly, if you only know The Monkees from "I'm a Believer" or "Daydream Believer," this song is going to melt your brain. It’s light years away from the bubbly teenybopper anthems that made them famous. It’s slow. It’s weird. It’s deeply cynical. It’s a funeral march for a brand that was tired of being a brand.
The Weird Genius of Goffin and King
You might not expect the duo behind "Will You Love Me Tomorrow" to write a lysergic masterpiece about a performing sea mammal, but Carole King and Gerry Goffin were going through their own transitions in 1968. Their marriage was crumbling, the music industry was shifting toward harder rock, and Goffin was experimenting with LSD.
That tension is baked into the track.
While the lyrics seem like a nonsensical acid trip—talking about "riddles" and "reasons" and a "porpoise mouth"—they’re actually a sharp critique of the entertainment industry. The porpoise is a metaphor for the band themselves. They were the trained animals jumping through hoops for the public’s amusement. Goffin’s lyrics capture that sense of being trapped in a loop of performance. "A false power to believe," Micky sings, his voice drenched in echo. It’s a resignation. It’s the sound of someone realizing the joke is on them, but they’re too high or too tired to care anymore.
How the Porpoise Song Theme from Head the Monkees Was Built
The production on this track is a masterclass in 1960s studio wizardry. Jack Nitzsche, who worked with everyone from The Rolling Stones to Neil Young, handled the arrangement. He didn't just make a pop song; he built a cathedral of sound.
Listen closely to the beginning.
That massive, swirling organ? That’s the sound of a band disintegrating. The track uses a heavy dose of the Moog synthesizer—one of its earliest prominent uses in pop music—played by Paul Beaver. It creates this undulating, underwater feeling that mimics the motion of the ocean. Micky Dolenz delivers what is arguably his best vocal performance here. He discards the "zany" persona and leans into a breathy, detached delivery that feels ghostly.
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The recording sessions took place at RCA Victor Studios in Hollywood around February 1968. Unlike the early days where they weren't allowed to play on their records, the Monkees had significant input here, though the "Wrecking Crew" session musicians still provided the backbone. It’s a lush, dense mix. You’ve got strings, brass, and that echoing percussion that feels like it’s bouncing off the walls of an empty tank.
The Cinematic Context
In the movie Head, the song plays over the opening and closing credits, framing the entire narrative. The film, co-written by Jack Nicholson and director Bob Rafelson, was a middle finger to the fans who expected more TV-style antics.
The scene where the song plays is iconic.
The guys are at the dedication of the Gerald Desmond Bridge. They’re bored. They’re surrounded by old, stiff politicians. Suddenly, Micky breaks rank and jumps off the bridge. As he descends in slow motion, the Porpoise Song theme from Head the Monkees kicks in. Underwater, he’s surrounded by colorful, solarized mermaids. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time. It’s a suicide jump as an act of liberation.
Why Nobody Listened in 1968
When the single was released in October 1968, it bombed.
Hard.
It peaked at number 62 on the Billboard Hot 100. For a band that had been at number one just a year prior, this was a disaster. The "Teenyboppers" hated it because it wasn't fun. The "Serious Rock Fans" hated it because it had "The Monkees" printed on the label. It was a song without an audience.
History has been much kinder.
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Today, psych-rock aficionados cite it as a precursor to dream pop and shoegaze. Bands like Tame Impala or Spiritualized owe a massive debt to this specific sound. It proved that The Monkees weren't just puppets; they were conduits for some of the most avant-garde pop ideas of the decade. They were willing to commit commercial suicide to make something that actually mattered.
The Gear and the Sound
To get that specific "Head" sound, the engineers used a lot of tape phasing. This was the era before digital plug-ins, so if you wanted that "underwater" effect, you had to manually manipulate the tape reels.
- The Moog: As mentioned, the Moog Series III was the star. It provided those low-frequency oscillations.
- Vocal Processing: Micky's voice was likely run through a Leslie speaker (the spinning speakers usually used for organs) to give it that wobbly, shimmering quality.
- The Ending: The song ends with a literal recording of a porpoise. It’s high-pitched and strange, fading out into a loop that feels like it could go on forever.
Deep Meaning in the Lyrics
Let's talk about that "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye" refrain.
It’s not just a sign-off. It’s the sound of a door closing. By the time Head came out, Peter Tork was already on his way out of the band. He actually paid $150,000 to buy out his contract shortly after. The song acts as a eulogy for the four of them as a unit.
Gerry Goffin was reportedly deeply moved by the way the song turned out. He felt it captured a specific type of disillusionment that everyone was feeling in 1968—the year of the RFK and MLK assassinations, the Vietnam War escalation, and the general rot of the "Summer of Love" dream. The porpoise is innocent, but it’s being used.
"The king is in his counting house," the song says. It’s a nursery rhyme turned into a nightmare.
How to Experience it Today
If you want to truly appreciate the Porpoise Song theme from Head the Monkees, you have to listen to the stereo album mix on a good pair of headphones. The mono single mix is punchy, but it loses some of that spatial depth that makes the track feel like a physical environment.
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Better yet, watch the opening of the film.
The visual editing by Aurora Conrad is frantic and rhythmic, perfectly matching the swells of the music. You see the contrast between the gray, dull world of the "real" Monkees and the vibrant, kaleidoscopic world they escape into underwater.
Facts Often Overlooked
- The B-Side: The single was backed with "As We Go Along," another Carole King track that is equally stunning but much more acoustic and folk-driven.
- The Chart Performance: Despite being a "flop," it stayed on the charts for six weeks. People were listening; they just didn't know what to make of it.
- Cover Versions: Artists like The Church and Trouble have covered it, proving its longevity in the psych-rock canon.
Final Take on the Theme
The Monkees were never supposed to be cool. They were a product. But with this song, they transcended the product. They became something ethereal. The Porpoise Song theme from Head the Monkees remains a testament to what happens when you give "manufactured" artists the keys to the laboratory.
Sometimes they blow the whole thing up.
And sometimes, the explosion sounds like heaven.
Actionable Ways to Explore This Track
- Compare the Mixes: Find the 1968 original vinyl mix versus the 1990s Rhino remasters. The bass response on the newer versions brings out the Moog much more clearly.
- Watch the Documentary: Look for "The Making of Head" features on the Criterion Collection release. It explains the drug-fueled writing sessions that led to this specific vibe.
- Listen to "The Gilded Palace of Sin" by The Flying Burrito Brothers: It was released around the same time and shares that same sense of "Hollywood disillusionment" that permeates Head.
- Read the Lyrics as Poetry: Forget the music for a second. Read the Goffin/King lyrics on the page. It’s a brutal takedown of celebrity culture that predates the modern "influencer" era by 50 years.
To understand the 1960s, you have to understand why the biggest band in the world decided to jump off a bridge. The music they played on the way down tells you everything you need to know.