It was a total mess. That’s the only way to describe the birth of More of The Monkees, the second studio album by the "Pre-Fab Four." Released in early 1967, this record didn’t just climb the charts; it parked itself at number one for 18 weeks. It eventually outsold Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and Revolver. Think about that for a second. A group created for a sitcom was out-muscling the Beatles on the Billboard 200 with an album the band members themselves actually hated.
Mike Nesmith famously called it "probably the worst record in the history of the world" at the time. He wasn't talking about the songs, though. He was talking about the betrayal.
The Monkees—Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith, and Peter Tork—didn’t even know the album was coming out until they saw it in a record store. Don Kirshner, the "Man with the Golden Ear," had assembled the tracks from various session scraps and unfinished demos while the boys were away on tour. He didn't even bother to get a professional photo for the cover. He just used a promotional still from a J.C. Penney apparel tie-in.
It was corporate cynicism at its peak. Yet, somehow, the music was brilliant.
The Power Struggle That Defined the Sound
To understand why More of The Monkees sounds the way it does, you have to look at the civil war happening behind the scenes at Colgems Records. On one side, you had Don Kirshner. He viewed the Monkees as avatars—vessels for the songs written by his stable of Brill Building legends like Carole King, Neil Sedaka, and Neil Diamond. To Kirshner, the Monkees were a brand, not a band.
On the other side, you had the actual guys. Mike Nesmith was a serious songwriter with deep country-rock roots. Peter Tork was a Greenwich Village folkie who could play circles around most session musicians. They were tired of being treated like puppets. They wanted to play their own instruments. They wanted to pick the tracks.
But Kirshner didn't care. He was looking at the numbers. The first album had been a juggernaut, and he wanted a follow-up immediately. While the band was in Arizona or Ohio playing to screaming teenagers, Kirshner was in New York and L.A. polishing tracks like "I'm a Believer" and "Steppin' Stone."
The result is a disjointed, chaotic, and oddly experimental collection of songs. It’s got bubblegum pop, garage rock, proto-psychedelia, and even a bit of music hall whimsy. It shouldn't work. By all logic, an album compiled by a suit who wasn't talking to the artists should be a disaster.
It wasn't. It was lightning in a bottle.
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Breaking Down the Tracks: Beyond the Hits
Everyone knows "I'm a Believer." It’s the quintessential 60s pop song. Written by Neil Diamond, it’s a masterclass in hook-writing. But if you dig deeper into More of The Monkees, you find the grit.
Take "(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone." This isn't "Daydream Believer" fluff. This is aggressive. It’s snarling. Micky Dolenz delivers a vocal performance that borders on punk rock a decade before punk existed. The fuzzed-out organ and the driving beat influenced everyone from The Sex Pistols to Minor Threat. It’s a song about social climbing and resentment, and it gives the album a dark edge that most people forget the Monkees had.
Then you have "She." Another Boyce and Hart gem. It’s fast, nervous, and features some of the best vocal layering of the era. Micky’s voice was the secret weapon of the 1960s. He had this incredible ability to sound vulnerable and authoritative at the same time.
The Hidden Gems and Oddities
- Mary, Mary: Written by Mike Nesmith. This track proves he was ahead of the curve. It’s got a funky, rhythmic drive that was later sampled by Run-D.M.C.
- Your Auntie Grizelda: This is where the album gets "weird Monkees." Peter Tork’s lead vocal is quirky, almost Vaudevillian. It’s the kind of track that fans either love or skip immediately, but it adds to the "anything goes" vibe of the record.
- The Kind of Girl I Could Love: A Nesmith country-rock precursor. You can hear the beginnings of the First National Band in the twang of this track.
- Sometime in the Morning: A gorgeous, shimmering ballad written by Gerry Goffin and Carole King. Micky’s vocal here is soft and understated. It’s arguably one of the best pop recordings of the decade.
The sheer variety is staggering. You go from the teen-idol crooning of Davy Jones on "Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)" to the sophisticated pop-soul of "When Love Comes Knockin' (At Your Door)."
The J.C. Penney Cover and the Lack of Art Direction
Let’s talk about that cover. It’s famously bad. The back cover even includes an advertisement for the Monkees' clothing line. For a band trying to establish artistic credibility, this was a slap in the face.
The photo shows the four of them in "Action-Tailored" outfits, looking more like department store mannequins than rock stars. There’s no artistic vision. There’s no concept. It was purely a product.
Interestingly, the lack of effort from the label actually created a sort of "found art" aesthetic in retrospect. It feels like a time capsule. It’s a raw look at 1967 marketing. When the band eventually saw it, Nesmith was so livid he reportedly punched a hole through a hotel wall. He saw it as the ultimate proof that they were being sold out.
Why the Critics Were Wrong (And Eventually Right)
At the time, "serious" music critics looked down on More of The Monkees. They saw it as manufactured drivel. To the emerging underground press, the Monkees were the antithesis of the counterculture. They were the "establishment's" version of the Beatles.
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But time has been incredibly kind to this record.
Modern critics, from Rolling Stone to Pitchfork, have revisited the album and found a wealth of proto-indie-pop influence. The production, handled mostly by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, was actually quite sophisticated. They used top-tier session musicians—the legendary Wrecking Crew. You’ve got Hal Blaine on drums and Larry Knechtel on keyboards. These were the same people playing on Beach Boys and Simon & Garfunkel records.
The technical quality of the recordings is immense. The mono mix, in particular, hits like a freight train. It’s punchy and loud. It was designed to sound good on a transistor radio, but on a high-end setup today, it reveals a lot of intricate detail in the percussion and backing vocals.
The Aftermath: The Palace Revolt
The success of More of The Monkees was the beginning of the end for Don Kirshner. Emboldened by the massive sales but furious at the lack of control, Mike Nesmith led a "palace revolt."
He famously told a room full of executives, "We're being sold down the river!" When an executive told him to shut up, Nesmith put his fist through a wall and said, "That could have been your face."
They won. Kirshner was fired shortly after, especially after he tried to release "A Little Bit Me, a Little Bit You" without the band's permission. The Monkees took control for their next album, Headquarters, where they finally played their own instruments.
But there’s a lingering question: Was Headquarters actually better?
Musically, Headquarters is more cohesive. It feels like a band. But More of The Monkees has a frantic, desperate energy that is hard to replicate. It represents a moment in time where the best songwriters in the world were throwing their best material at four guys who were caught in a whirlwind.
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Impact on 1960s Culture
You can’t overstate how big this was in 1967. The album stayed at the top of the charts for nearly five months. It wasn't just for kids. It was the soundtrack to the spring of '67.
It bridged the gap between the clean-cut early 60s and the psychedelic explosion that was about to happen. You can hear the transition in the songs. "Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)" mentions a girl wearing "psychedelic clothes." The "Summer of Love" was just months away, and the Monkees were, in their own weird way, prepping the mainstream for it.
The album also cemented Micky Dolenz as one of the premier rock vocalists of his generation. His ability to jump from the grit of "Steppin' Stone" to the sweetness of "Sometime in the Morning" is a feat few of his peers could match. He wasn't just an actor playing a singer; he was a powerhouse.
How to Listen to it Today
If you're going to dive back into this record, skip the streaming "remasters" if you can and find an original mono vinyl pressing. The stereo mix of the 60s was often an afterthought, with instruments panned hard left and vocals hard right. The mono mix is where the power is.
Also, look for the Deluxe Edition reissues that have come out over the last decade. They include fascinating backing tracks and "fly-on-the-wall" studio chatter. Hearing the guys joke around between takes reveals that despite the tension with the label, they were actually having a blast in the studio.
Lessons from the "Worst Record in the World"
What can we learn from the saga of More of The Monkees?
First, that great art can happen by accident. Kirshner wasn't trying to make a classic; he was trying to make a buck. But because he hired the best songwriters and the best session players, and because the four leads were genuinely talented, the result was a classic anyway.
Second, the "manufactured" label is often a lie. Every pop star is manufactured to some degree. The Monkees just had the honesty (or the lack of a choice) to have a TV show about it. The "realness" of the music on this album holds up against any of their contemporaries.
Actionable Steps for Music Lovers and Collectors
If you're looking to explore this era or collect the physical media, keep these points in mind:
- Check the Matrix Numbers: If you are hunting for vinyl, look for the early Colgems pressings. The "Black Label" versions are the originals. Later "RCA" or "Rhino" reissues are great for listening, but the 1967 originals have that specific mid-60s "warmth" that’s hard to digitize.
- Listen for the "Hidden" Musicians: When you hear the bass line on "She," that’s Joe Osborn. The drums on "I'm a Believer"? That’s Hal Blaine. Recognizing the Wrecking Crew’s contribution turns the album into a masterclass in session playing.
- Compare with 'Headquarters': To really appreciate the drama, listen to More of The Monkees and Headquarters back-to-back. You’ll hear the shift from polished Brill Building perfection to the raw, garage-band sound the Monkees fought so hard to achieve.
- Research the Songwriters: Use this album as a gateway. If you like "Sometime in the Morning," go down the Goffin/King rabbit hole. If you like "I'm Not Your Steppin' Stone," check out Boyce and Hart’s solo work. This album is a "Who's Who" of 20th-century American songwriting.
This record is a testament to the fact that you can't keep talent down. Even when the "Man" is pulling the strings, and even when the cover is a J.C. Penney ad, the music has a way of taking on a life of its own. It’s chaotic, it’s beautiful, and it’s undeniably the Monkees.