lady, take me away ( mike nesmith )

a lonely dreamer

jan. 1970

He brought the New Year alone.

Sitting on the edge of his couch, Mike listened to the fireworks exploding just outside his window. His head turned, mouth poised to call out for three rambunctious band mates. It was a reflex, even after nearly a year later. The budding grin quickly dissolved when he remembered his apartment was empty. Blue moonlight washed the bare walls with its melancholy hue. It looked lonelier than before. His stare remained on the white walls. The boom of fireworks faded into the background the same way the television did.

For the first time in years, he entered January without his familiar group of goofballs. He never could have imagined the whirlwind of a year that 1969 had been. Between Davy's acting opportunities and Peter's restlessness in the band, it was a miracle that he and Micky managed to keep the boys together for one last album. Despite the popularity they had gained as a band, it became clear that their interests were beginning to diverge. The Monkees had been together for quite some time at that point. Though their mainstream musical career was brief, the album output was prolific. The four of them didn't spend the mid-1960s doing absolutely nothing while waiting around to be discovered.

Admittedly, the momentum at which they moved was too fast. Six LPs within a span of two and a half years was impressive but also exhaustive. By the time they entered 1969, the burn out was beginning to show in each of them. The ideas were flat and the lyrics were uninspiring. That didn't stop Mike from pushing through with Head. He figured another album would help get the creative juices flowing but, in the end, all it did was suck them dry and make them out to be laughing stocks in the scene. While the band made up from their disastrous recording sessions, the reception ultimately broke them apart.

Peter was the first to go. The lack of attention to his contributions frustrated him. His ditzy veneer had chipped off in the past couple years. He really bloomed into a talented musician but he found himself snubbed for Mike's compositions. Not even a month after the album's release, Peter announced his decision to quit. Hardly turned his head as he said goodbye. The bassist's departure soon inspired Davy's own exit. The stage called for the Brit yet again and he couldn't resist the temptation. Just as they were recovering from Peter leaving, Davy soon dropped the news then hopped on the first plane back to England.

And then there were two.

Micky and Mike floundered for solutions. They could tour as a duo. It could work but not for long. There was enough material for one last album. But it wouldn't be the same without the whole band together. There was no way to recover from losing half the band. Eventually, they realised they had to accept defeat and hang up their hats. The unfinished lyrics and demos were boxed up to be put in Mike's office. Though Micky promised to keep in touch, there was mostly radio silence from his end. Last Mike heard, the drummer was cavorting with girls in Paris.

Upset by his friends' sudden abandonments, Mike decided to drop from the music scene. For good or for a few months, he couldn't tell. He had been saying it's for a few months since the past August. His mind used to race with melodies and hooks but now all he had was silence. The quick dissolution of the Monkees had paralysed his muse. He couldn't pick up a guitar without getting annoyed that he couldn't come up with anything. The cycle was never ending. All he wanted to do was create music but he can't. Or is it won't? Whatever the case, it didn't do him any good. It left him with a lot of time to stew in his unresolved emotions.

Even if he was upset at them, Mike still entertained the idea that, perhaps, fate would be kind and his band could get together again. It was a paper dream at best. None of them had similar agendas that would allow for their paths to cross again. The logistics could never align. Maybe in the future there would be a happy reunion in store for them. He could only hope for the best.

His reflections of the past twelve months soon came to a halt when the grand finale sent explosion upon explosion of bright reds and oranges and blues into the dark sky. He lifted his head to look out the window again. Down below, he could hear the sounds of celebrations as people ushered in a brand new start. The miserable mood waned in the slightest. A soft smile appeared. For a couple moments, he could pretend to be thrilled for those rejoicing.

At least someone was having a happy entrance into January.