The Life and Career of Michael Nesmith—Singer, Songwriter, and Monkee

With today's death of Michael Nesmith, 78, only one Monkee remains—Micky Dolenz, to sing the songs and carry on the legend of the supergroup, as he remembers it. [Photo credit: Billboard Magazine, 1967 trade ad, in public domain via Wikipedia.]

Of course, if there were four Monkees, you can count on there being four stories (and more) of how this one-time legendary supergroup came together to entertain teenagers and the adults they morphed into for over 50 years in multiple variations of the core four band.

The “boys” that Screen Gems productions advertised for with a simple casting call produced an iconic pop rock group from four complete strangers who came together, some who knew how to play their instruments and sing fairly well, and others who needed some fine tuning to be solo artists. Together they were magic. [Photo credit: Billboard magazine, May 1967, public domain.]

The four guys who made fame and fortune at the guidance of music producer Don Kirshner were indeed The Monkees: Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork, and British actor/singer Davy Jones. As writer Rich Podolsky shares in his book “Don Kirshner: The Man with the Golden Ear,” Kirshner “selected and executive-produced all of their songs.” Of the four, Mike Nesmith was the most business-minded. A native Texan, he was born in Houston and was raised in Dallas for most of his life. Legend was that his mother had been a brilliant creative who invented Liquid Paper (a godsend to anyone with an clerical job) and so he was exposed a normal business life at home during early influential years.

Nesmith’s business inclinations almost destroyed the group as soon as it had skyrocketed to national prominence. Behind the scenes, most TV audiences were not going to see the group in concert for a while. They had recorded their songs under Kirshner’s team including Snuff Garrett and per Podolsky, “Garrett found the foursome so difficult that after just one session he quit and flew to his mother’s home in Texas.” Keep in mind that Snuff Garrett was one of the most brilliant successful calm figures in the music business….he’d already had 24 Top 10 songs to his credit.

Jeff Barry was next on deck as producer—he found them entirely disagreeable to work with too. No one was paying any attention to this among their fan base because copies of “16 Magazine,” “Tiger Beat,” and “Teen Beat” had 50 pages devoted to “Which color does Micky like best?” and “What’s an ideal date with Mike Nesmith like? And few fans cared that recording sessions for Monkees’ records were closed to the public and window shades kept down purposefully so you couldn’t see the legion of studio music professionals playing on the tracks.

Yes, you’re hearing them sing on the albums (in many places), but even the first Monkee albums were enhanced by the additional of professional studio vocalists who could manage to sing “just like” The Monkees should be singing on the tracks. Yes, you are hearing Micky and Davy in many lines but the harmony blends on choruses were impacted for the better. Many fans become infuriated to consider this proven fact but the point was you enjoyed the albums and the music.

It’s just what they did with many groups back then—Gary Puckett’s “Union Gap,” Paul Revere & the Raiders (except Mark Lindsey), the entire Partridge Family (until they found out David Cassidy could sing), and Gary Lewis’s “Playboys” were all studio singers plus the headliners’ voices.

But the four fiery personalities, led most vocally by Mike Nesmith, were not satisfied with that arrangement. Don Kirshner for his part, offered them a major royalty check to make up for it, but the guys weren’t having it. Podolsky noted, “Nesmith said they wanted to play their own instruments and pick their own songs.” Execs reminded them to “read their contracts,” and Mike Nesmith “punched a hole in the wall,” as Podolsky wrote.

Meanwhile, America tuned in to NBC for their TV show, they lined up to buy 45s and 33s with The Monkees’ photos all over them, and the band caused collateral damage such that Don Kirshner was fired—after they’d had three million-selling singles and two 3-million selling albums each. That’s not the thank-you one would presume to receive—egos, pride, and attitude in the 1960s, having risen from total obscurity to national prominence.

Smartly, Mike Nesmith had taken the initiative and made sure his own compositions were the ‘B’ side of the hit records all over the radio. Rolling Stone reminds us that four of Mike’s compositions included “Mary, Mary,” “Circle Sky,” “Listen to the Band,” and “The Girl I Knew Somewhere,” all but one considered deep tracks except for the most devoted Monkee fans, who know the words to every song.

Devoted Buckinghams' fans also know that The Buckinghams knocked The Monkees off the number one spot on Billboard's charts where they'd been with "I'm a Believer" when their song, "Kind of a Drag" reached the top spot.

Nesmith worked steadily in the music business after The Monkees. Back in the early 1970s, Carl Giammarese remembers the days when he and Dennis Tufano (as the duo Tufano & Giammarese) opened for Mike Nesmith at a Chicago club called Orphans, located at 2462 N. Lincoln. Orphan’s was a premiere folk club for over 20 years. Giammarese remembers Nesmith as being a sort of cerebral, seriously focused guy, which tracks with his career longevity and success, always concentrating on the music. [Photo credit for Orphan's building: dnainfo.com]

The four musicians were far from a band of brothers, united only when fighting the corporate structure. Reunion tours would show that Mike Nesmith was the only one who never cared to tour with Micky, Davy, and Peter. In 1986, David Fishoff created The Monkees’ 20th anniversary tour, adding Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Herman’s Hermits, and The Grass Roots, and quoting the LA Times’ review, played “to a crowd of more than 11,000 screaming fans that spanned two generations.” Still, no Nesmith.

However, for a concert on September 7, 1986, Nesmith joined the others at The Greek Theatre:

From May 12, 2011 to July 23, 2011, the 45th Anniversary tour included Dolenz, Tork, and Jones. Forty-six successful shows spanned Europe and North America; talk about staying power. [Photo source: Ticket Sarasota.] Meanwhile Mike Nesmith collected more royalties than the others, whether he was on the road or not. It is why indie artists have learned to own their own publishing rights these days. They learned from those who came before them.

And, it was possibly the final concert appearance for Davy Jones in the 2012 Concerts at Sea Cruise, on board with The Buckinghams, Paul Revere & the Raiders, and Charlie Thomas’ Coasters. During the show I attended, Davy said boldly, yet wistfully, as he sang “Mary, Mary” that it was a song written by Mike Nesmith, the “smart one of us” in the group. Jones passed away unexpectedly the next month.

It could be that Nesmith just preferred not being where Davy Jones was, because he agreed to tour almost immediately after, with Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork.

Nesmith may not be the originator of music videos or MTV, but he was certainly among the pioneers of the genre. The Monkees TV shows were inspirational for that, kooky antics while performing hits, but in 1977, a video called “Rio,” Nesmith’s solo album furnished his label’s request for “a nice promotional clip of Nesmith singing along to the music.”

In 2018, Nesmith (note billing) and Dolenz toured “as the Mike & Micky Show). Peter Tork died in 2019. Mike Nesmith never stopped working.

Four years ago, “he created the music video for Cruisin’ as part of the (1981) Grammy Award winning (for video) “Elephant Parts.” There are over 10,800 subscribers to Michael Nesmith’s Videoranch on YouTube.

Again, he may in some places be credited for an originator of MTV, several people seized early opportunities to put music and film together to promote record sales (today called digital downloads). A story worth reading is in Sean O’Neal’s article in Texas Monthly: “On MTV’s Fortieth Anniversary, Don’t Forget to Thank Michael Nesmith.” [Photo credit: Texas Monthly.]

A final musical legacy that Mike Nesmith leaves include son Christian Nesmith and his wife and music partner, Circe Link. A fun video of two Nesmiths and a Link is here:

Son Jonathan Nesmith is both musician and artist. Check out his Facebook page here.

However you perceive Mike Nesmith, for the majority of Baby Boomers, only wistful memories of our youth continue to flash by as brightly as a neon sign burning a hole through the night. Rather than any Monkees’ songs, a personal favorite of Nesmith’s compositions was one he wrote in 1964, “A Different Drum,” as recorded by the inimitable Linda Ronstadt. And to the one who remains, Micky Dolenz, thanks for keeping the music going as long as you have thus far.

Grateful: Memories of Music, Football, Basketball, and Friends, Neighbors

Thanksgiving 2021—Last night as I went to sleep I wanted to write something to remember this Thanksgiving by…I fell asleep amidst of sea of memories of present-day loving friends and neighbors as well as those from my earliest childhood…the flood of smiles as I recalled the scenes in my mind gave me restful slumber, until my alarm went off at far-too-early o’clock today.

I’d probably spend the entire day compiling the full list of happy times but I’ll remind myself that dear friends tease the length of my memories, as I remind them I type quickly, but I get their drift. [Left: Two of my 'boys' who are now grown men.]

I grew up on an “almost” cul se sac in San Antonio, except that it had no circular ending with houses in a horseshoe at the end. It was likely more accurately known as a Dead End street, Dawnview Lane. There were five consecutive streets that dead-ended into a sea of barbed wire fence parallel to our solid chain-link fences creating the barrier between our homes and the cattle and horse or two that were our nearest neighbors on the other side of us. It was the best of country living in the midst of suburban San Antonio and I thought everyone had that scene at there homes, for a while at least.

Country living and country music, though, were two different things. I was, without a doubt, born to live and love for rock music, first the fun pop rock and later, with an appreciation for more intense music. An early concert at the Municipal Auditorium introduced me to what would become “package shows” where 10 different stars of the music on the radio traveled together across the country performing their current radio hits for the “kids” assembled in the audiences, generally for the low ticket price of $3.00 per person.

My first concert was the tour of the Grand Ol’ Opry at which I saw (and got to meet) Skeeter Davis, and that’s a story of its own for another day. It made my entire childhood to do that and I remember how she told me she was really ‘ok’ when she sang “The End of the World” and for me to remember her smiling as she sang it. You’d had to have known my mother for how that came about, but then that was just Mama being a Mama.

Not all of country music appealed to me, but some of it took hold. My ears were fixed on KTSA and KONO with DJs “Cousin Brucie” and “Howard Edwards” introduced me to the latest songs on the pop charts, but I also loved Easy Listening and KITE radio (the AM sister station to the future rock station KEXL on Doubleday Broadcasting) too. For the record “My” Cousin Brucie wasn’t the one of New York fame, Bruce Morrow; it was Bruce Hathaway…there was also Captain K, Sheldon Kosharek, the helicopter pilot who flew the KTSA safety bird.

A U.S. Marines Toys for Tots concert would be another trip to the Municipal Auditorium and on that package show were The Buckinghams, Your entrance fee was a new toy for children as the U.S. Marines took care of the entertainment fee for you.

San Antonio’s own Sunny & the Sunliners,

Archie Bell and the Drells (from Houston, Texas, who dance just as good as they walk!)

and many more.

Even though I was usually listening to Howard Edwards on KONO (dial 86, 86, 86) (“Hey, how you, fair dinkum?”) and then you’d hear the drag races being advertised on KTSA coming up, “Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!” you’d just start assimilating the little jingles of the station IDs in your head as part of the songs you loved because they were being brought to you by the DJs (so you thought before you ever knew about A&R guys, promo men, and other unseen forces who helped radio programming along back in the day).

All these memories bring me to my final topic of the morning: football. In just the last year or two, it seems some people have come to discover that deep within the heart of this music lover lies the heart of an abiding sports junkie. On the dead-end street I grew up, all my neighbors had sons except for one, and she was a mean girl.

I remember on Saturday mornings we would all ride bikes or just play in the front yards of our homes until noon, where everyone went in for lunch. When I would come out after lunch, the guys were all gone and stayed that way until after church the next day. I couldn’t figure out where they all went. This went on for about three weeks, until I asked Douglas (one of my five neighbor guys) where they all went to on Saturdays. “We watch football,” he said. “What’s that?” I asked. He explained it was what guys enjoyed doing on Saturdays and Sundays. “Oh,” I answered. “Will you teach me how to watch it?”

He said, “I don’t know much yet, I’m still learning, but my Dad can help us!” So the next day after church, Mom and I were invited and went to their house. The two Moms visited while I was a willing pupil with the boys (Jefferson, Douglas, and Andrew, all named for American leaders) and their dad, Ray. He was a wonderful teacher. It started to make sense. I liked music more but the game was starting to take shape for me and I learned enough watch a few weeks in to understand who the best players were on some teams.

Then the house across the street from me sold, and Susan and Stacy were the two daughters who moved in, and I lost touch with football for a while. They were sweet and fun to play with and we usually played "school." Eventually they moved, and a young Army widow with four daughters moved in, ages 5 to 18, and they were great to play with, too.

My bff Ronnie would ride his bike over from 5 streets away and he taught me how neighbors could fix things around the house. There was always some little thing that needed doing at my house and Ronnie set about early to showing me how easily it could be done (it was when he did it. I was encouraged by his example.) When he got a Mini-bike to ride over on, my rules were that I could ride on it only in the driveway and not the streets.

I followed my rules and he patiently drove me up and down that driveway, then there was a go-cart he had (same rules), and back then the driveways were actually long enough to enjoy the ride. Then Ronnie grew up and played drums professionally in addition to all the other jobs he had; hardest working guy I've ever known! Eventually we all grow up and move away somewhere.

Flash forward to my discovery of professional basketball and professional bowling on TV! I fell in love with basketball because it moved so fast, and the players jumped so high in the air they were like acrobats. And there was nothing more satisfying to watch than a good slam dunk.

I loved the voice of Chris Schenkel as he built suspense for various tournaments. It was all about the voice…and then there was professional golf…and the voice of Jim Nantz. Oh, heavenly days, Jim could read the phone book and I’d want to buy a copy. By Sunday afternoons, I discovered the NFL on CBS and immediately I loved the backstories of players and their pathways to professional football. The Cowboys and Coach Tom Landry became my benchmark to how a professional football team should comport themselves during and after the games. Things have changed “slightly” since those days.

But the good news is those grand old days of the NFL on CBS have been beautifully and carefully preserved by my friend, Rich Podolsky, in his new book, “You Are Looking Live!: How the NFL Today Revolutionized Sports Broadcasting.” This book is exciting, insightful and a perfect behind-the-scenes look at how this groundbreaking show began and transformed through the years.

These days my neighbors are still among the things in life I’m most grateful for. Some live on the same block as I do. Others live just a “few” blocks or states away, but thanks to Facetime, Skype, and other means, we are all “together.”

My 9-yr-old pal Facetimed me two days ago of his own accord. He said, “It’s been too long since we last talked. How are you doing?” I love that boy. And his little brother and his little sister. We discussed important topics (basketball, of course) like the Golden State Warriors. For a 9-yr-old, I’ll bet you’re thinking that he’s all about “I like the so-and-so team because they have a cool mascot.” Nuh-uh. Forget it.

We discussed upcoming team acquisitions and possible trades during and after the season and why he thought ‘x’ was a good decision and why ‘y’ was a useless trade to make because he mostly rode the bench and wasn’t much of a team player. It’s just one reason I love him, we have such intelligent conversations, but I’m the one learning from him. He’s picked up my vast years of knowledge by absorbing ESPN One-on-One documentaries and YouTube videos. And he has been known to correct me (politely) when I’m wrong. He and his little brother and youngest sister are a joy to watch grow up and they bring me love, hugs, and joy.

These days, I have “holiday” cherubs who are special to my heart from two families, older and younger. My older boys came from when I moved in on this block and they were all under the age of 5 and their older sister had started school. Watching them grow up and seeing them at the holidays playing in the yard or showing up at my front door in some new cool Halloween costume (with their friends).

I loved watching them grow up. Today they tower over me, but they’re still “my guys” of whom I’m incredibly proud. Older brother is in Colorado, and next brother just completed his tour of duty in the Navy and next brother is a semester away from his degree in HVAC and welding certifications.

My newest “neighbors” are precious, three in elementary school and one in pre-K (going on 22!), and I’m having fun all over again watching them grow and learn and love each other. I think I’ve found the Fountain of Youth again. Watching the children all get along so beautifully fills me with joy and happiness that is unparalleled.

Of all the things I give thanks for this year, wonderful colleagues at work locally and around the country by e-mail, dear friends around the country who are as close as AT&T and Skype bring us, neighbors whom I adore, and the chance to see happy families grow up loving God and loving life…my cup runneth over.

And now, it's time for the Cowboys to beat the Las Vegas Raiders. I have plenty of work to do while it plays in the background...I'm thankful for Jim Nantz broadcasting today and for Tony Romo telling me what the QB is thinking he'll do next. Some things never change! Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and may you have a day to remember forever, over and over again.

“Recording Academy” Overlooks Peter Tork’s Passing: They Missed the Boat Again

As one of probably thousands of media members on the distribution list for press releases for “all things Grammy,” my inbox has been waiting for about twelve hours now. I’ve been wondering whether “News from the Recording Academy” would land, to let me know what most of America already knows, that a Baby Boomer favorite musician, Peter Tork, passed away today at the age of 77. So far, I’ve received two communiques from that august body known simply as the “Recording Academy,” neither of which referenced Tork.

The first missive arrived at 5:02 CST, “Recording Academy™ Statement RE: Fred Foster. Everyone knows Fred, right? Fred was a good fellow alright, and he had a 60-year career as a “famed producer, songwriter, and music business executive” who is credited with the “...launch of many iconic artists into the spotlight, including Kris Kristofferson, Dolly Parton, and Roy Orbison.” The release continues: “Fred will be deeply missed by many, but remembered as a pioneer within our industry. Our thoughts are with his loved ones during this difficult time.” Signed by (good ol’) Neil Portnow, President/CEO Recording Academy.

My thoughts at 5:02pm ran something akin to “Hey Neil, Peter Tork died today. Anyone run down the hall to tell you?” I must confess I pictured the former head of Casablanca Records with a cartoon balloon over his head with the caption: “Unless someone brings me something to sign, I don’t have anything left to do today.” Again, I’m miffed, and my emotions could possibly be guiding my dispirited thoughts.

But wait, there’s more! At 6:18 pm CST, there was a new e-mail in my inbox from the “Recording Academy” alright, but this time it was a “Recording Academy™ Statement RE: Dominick Argento.”

Naturally, he’s an important figure in classical music with unquestioned contributions to the music industry—no disrespect there. However, I learned only today that “Dominick was a GRAMMY® and Pulitzer Prize-winning composer recognized for creating musical masterpieces inspired by the literary works of renowned writers such as Charles Dickens, Edgar Allen Poe, and Virginia Woolf…In 2003 he was honored with the Best Classical Contemporary Composition GRAMMY for ‘Argento: Casa Guidi at the 46th Annual GRAMMY Awards®.”

Here’s the thing. Fred Foster and Dominick Argento are most deserving of recognition and remembrance in their fields, unquestionably so. But the point is that Peter Tork also deserves a statement from the Recording Academy®.

To be sure, the individuals in the made-by-TV-for-Baby Boomers group, The Monkees, may arguably not top your list of favorite singers, musicians, and none of them were (at that point, save Mike Nesmith) considered composers, at least initially. They were actors who brought personalities on paper to real-life pop music fun, the remembrance of which has endured for six decades now. The popularity of The Monkees, however, and the death of Peter Tork has spread across social media today. The notice of his passing made a real impact. The Monkees’ vocals were unique at the least and considered the very best, especially if you were an impressionable teenage girl who read “Tiger Beat,” “16 Magazine” and similar publications among those that advertised Dippity Do, Noxema, and Breck and Prell shampoos. Let’s face it, in the summers of love that were the 1960s, the eyes heard what they wanted to hear.

The Monkees, created in the clever mind of Don Kirshner, were manufactured to meet the need that Kirshner was visionary enough to see—four “zany” guys who could capture the hearts of teenage girls sufficient for them to buy their albums. Estimates are that The Monkees sold over 75,000,000 records. Their first label, of course, was Colgems, because of Don Kirshner’s relationship as director of Screen Gems’ Music Division as he’d sold his Aldon Music to Screen Gems-Columbia Music. (Those interested in the definitive book on Don Kirshner should check out Rich Podolsky’s “The Man with the Golden Ear.”)

And, cards on the table, those in the know realize exactly who it was in the studios and on their instruments, and whose voices were augmented now and again, same as virtually 90% of every other 1960s pop band in the country—manufactured for consumption. Also, as virtually everyone knows, without The Wrecking Crew, virtually every single album pressed in California for at least a decade of pop-rock would not be the hitmakers they were for the performers whose photos were all over the album covers and teen magazines.

To be fair, the musicians portraying The Monkees on TV, without much time to learn their instruments and practice together certainly did a terrific job of coming together sufficiently to perform their hits for audiences’ delight and 100% satisfaction. You could estimate that millions of approving fans who respect and regard Peter Tork have seen him over the decades, whether in the first go-round of The Monkees, or his own band, Shoe Suede Blues, or since 2012, the various configurations of Dolenz-Nesmith-Tork as whomever could work their schedules around appearing together for tours of varying lengths. Micky Dolenz, of course, was a popular regular in the “Happy Together” reunion tours, currently enjoying their 10th anniversary season.

Those at the “Recording Academy” who overlook the contribution made by Peter Tork by not noting his passing today along with two others who died have missed the boat…again.

The most recent example of missing the boat before this was their failure to include the 2016 passing of songwriter/musician/recording artist, Rob Meurer in their 2017 ‘In Memoriam’ segment, in print and on the GRAMMY® telecast. It’s like the lyricist to cowrite nearly 50 songs with Christopher Cross wasn’t important enough. I’ve stated my opinion on that topic before. But here today, the “Recording Academy” has done it again. As we say in Texas, “Y’all goofed up.”

Anyone who’s slogged through the GRAMMY® telecast the past few years has been dragged through the sea of banality and boredom that comes with pyrotechnics, yelling, and a few performers pretending they deserve to be on stage, attempting to add to the case for why various musicians are deserving of adulation, even if they’re 100% autotune and Brylcreem. Your mileage may vary. Some acts (can’t bring myself to call them musicians) you simply cannot unsee.

One might argue that The Monkees were not (originally) accomplished musicians, though Peter Tork played keyboard, guitar and banjo, but very quickly they became a genuine musical group. Their music is still in demand in concert today. So are the performances of their contemporaries, the pop-rock veterans. For example, the latest Concerts at Sea cruise currently sailing has The Buckinghams, Paul Revere’s Raiders, Joey Molland’s Badfinger, 1910 Fruitgum Company, Gary Lewis and the Playboys, Peter Rivera (original singer/Rare Earth), and Danny & the Juniors.

Their genre is still wildly popular as the same group that includes The Monkees. The upcoming Flower Power Cruise is similarly packed with 60s acts who have lodged themselves well into the hearts and minds of Baby Boomers who can afford a week or two away from the office to have the opportunity to meet favorite musicians from their teenage years. It’s not just floating concerts—these artists still fill arenas, theatres, state fairs, and perform individually and in package shows.

Of Tork’s passing, fellow Monkee, Micky Dolenz (@TheMickyDolenz1), said, “There are no words right now…heart broken over the loss of my Monkee brother, Peter Tork.” Rolling Stone (@RollingStone) magazine tweeted Monkee Michael Nesmith’s words, ”I can only pray his songs reach the heights that can lift us and that our childhood lives forever—that special sparkle that was the Monkees.” Iconic songwriter Brian Wilson (@BrianWilsonLife) tweeted, “There are no words right now…heart broken over the loss of my Monkee brother, Peter Tork. #paperwork #Themonkees.”

Actor Mark Hamill (@HamillHimself) tweeted, “So sorry to hear we lost #PeterTork. The Monkees never got the respect they deserved. Their music catalogue remains one of the richest in Pop History. Thanks for being such a big part of my childhood & beyond, Pete. #RIPPeterTork”.

It would be my hope that, given the number of people who’ve posted their photos of, or with, Peter Tork on Facebook today, they’d all appreciate the “Recording Academy” doing the decent thing. Well, I guess, if Neil has a few spare minutes tomorrow, he can do the right thing. I'll be right here watching my inbox.

Book Review: “Neil Sedaka: Rock’n’Roll Survivor” by Rich Podolsky

Writer Rich Podolsky has done it again. The book is “Neil Sedaka: Rock’n’Roll Survivor: The Inside Story of His Incredible Comeback,” released Sept. 9, 2013. In short, it’s a five-star winner. But it’s also a fast (and fun) history lesson in how rock music “got this way” and how it’s possible to soar, then crash and burn in popularity, and then rise up like the Phoenix, on wings of, well, Sir Elton John for one, and lyricist Phil Cody for another, and regain your spot among the stars in the rock and roll galaxy. That’s the book in a nutshell. But wait, there’s more!

For a few moments, Podolsky time-traveled backwards sufficient enough to pop his head back into New York’s Brill Building, to grab Sedaka by the shoulders, and then escort him into the 21st century, chatting and talking the entire trip, like two old friends who’ve known each other forever, and you, the reader, are the invisible visitor who gets to listen in without interrupting.

All along the way, Sedaka frankly shares with Podolsky some of the best up-close and personal stories about his incredible career comeback that makes for one of the most refreshing, and fascinating, reads of the fall. Who’s this book for? It’s for anyone who loves rock and roll and knows without explanation how “tra la la la la la” turned into Love (keeping you together), Laughter (in the rain) and how to go from Solitaire back to Rock Star, with a little help from some friends.

Neil Sedaka was born with the innate talent to sense exactly what it was that people needed to soothe and comfort their broken hearts. His melodies, harmonies, and gift of crafting songs has spanned five decades, plus, and yet, his life has been anything but easy. He started out with no chance in...well, you know, and he became a songwriting giant and eventual in-demand performer whose name was as well known as Connie Francis, Bobby Darin, and Cousin Brucie Morrow back in the grand old days of the 1960s.

You’d think that a decade of success would be “enough,” for anyone, but when the creative juices burn within you and won’t let you alone long enough to sleep, “that’s when the music took” Neil Sedaka to long for a comeback. But first he had to find the depths of anonymity and being overlooked and validate that life was, indeed, the pits. Still, he had his family. But for an artist, the lifeblood of existence comes from creating new work, finding it validated, accepted, and ultimately embraced by the same people who loved you first, then dumped you. Those are the ones you want back, bigger and better than before.

Neil Sedaka went through his “hungry years” alright. He was forgotten for quite a while in fact. But it’s the process of getting back up out from under the anvil of anonymity, and fighting back up the Billboard charts, while standing atop the shoulders of two men, one who was personally moved and influenced by his music and another, who really had not been much of a fan before. Pretty cool for a comeback formula, eh? Podolsky’s story reads fast, you can’t wait for the next chapter, and the next, and you appreciate the storytelling skill that Podolsky has for giving you Neil’s story in Neil’s words.

The entire comeback story is framed importantly between two impressive bookends: the Foreword by Sir Elton John, and the Afterword by Phil Cody. The Brit and the Aussie are the secret ingredients to the hitmaking machine of Elton’s Rocket Records, and Cody’s brilliant lyrics.

Songs of love, songs of romance, songs of break-up, make-up and back again kept flowing all through the 1960s, in large part due to finding a team of similarly gifted songwriters who crammed like sardines into cubicles in the Brill Building while Don Kirshner and Al Nevins tried to keep enough paper in the printer to send out the sheet music.

Podolsky’s Sedaka bio is the natural follow-up to his excellent book, “Don Kirshner: The Man With the Golden Ear,” published in 2012. Podolsky’s take on Sedaka’s story views him as something like Phoenix, rising from the ashes of being forgotten, cast aside and entirely inconsequential save as a fill-in-the-blank on the New York Times crossword puzzle to a present-day still-in-demand, lucky-to-get-him singer.

You just have to read the book to hear the theme music running through your head because you know you are going to want to know everything about this exciting tale. Phil Cody is a name well-known to every liner-note-loving reader, rock historian and music-trivia fiend. If you need a little help, think “Laughter in the Rain,” which launched Neil’s comeback path.

Then there’s “Solitaire,” which was a big hit for The Carpenters, but, with Sedaka’s wise entry as a guest mentor in the second season of “American Idol,” “Solitaire” became such a signature song for Clay Aiken, that Neil actually presented Aiken with a framed copy of the sheet music and told him that the song was now officially “his.” Now any true Sedaka fan knows all the Cody lyrics to “The Immigrant” and admit it, you choke up when you hear it. You know you do.

“Wild Phil” Cody rides again when you hear “Bad Blood,” the duet sung by Neil Sedaka and Sir Elton John, and then another endearing duet on “Should’ve Never Let You Go,” with Neil and his daughter, Dara Sedaka. Don’t forget that singing runs in the family—the late Eydie Gorme and Neil are cousins, and Dara can well stand tall on her own song stylings. It was indeed a prolific collaboration for Sedaka’s comeback to connect with Phil Cody and it produced the same “magic” in music that had been ever as much a part of Neil’s collaboration with the late genius, Howard (Howie) Greenfield.

There’s a special kind of magic where Neil Sedaka, and his music, are concerned. In reading Podolsky’s book, you start calling Mr. Sedaka “Neil” when you talk of him to others, you feel like you were right there with him and you’ve been where he was then, and you were transported to where he is now, and you are refreshed. The invisible curtain that separates “knowing” and “being known,” one music lover to another, is lifted, quite expertly by Rich Podolsky. The journey of the book flies by, a fast 242 pages all gone too soon, and when you’re done, you sit there and smile at where you’ve been, who you’ve seen, and how you feel now that you know. Indeed, it is because “that’s where the music takes me.” Bravo and kudos to Podolsky, and for Mr. Sedaka, another standing “O” because you so richly deserve it.

To get your copy of this book, click here.

This review was originally posted on examiner.com

The rock-n-roll side of Rich Podolsky: Sportswriter pens Don Kirshner biography

So, what was it that made Philadelphia-native sportswriter Rich Podolsky want to tell the story of Don Kirshner, also known as “The Man with the Golden Ear” just released by music publisher Hal Leonard Books? Before Podolsky ever thought about writing about the beloved record producer of Brill Building fame, he was waxing some kind of wonderful about the Boston Celtics.

In fact, for over 30 years of his professional career, Podolsky’s journalistic talents have taken him around the sports world—college basketball, college football, golf, and horse racing. His ability to pick winning college football teams found him, as of 2009, with his selections published by ESPN, AOL among others, and his talents didn’t just center on football.

For many years, Podolsky’s sports acumen was an integral part of CBS Sports (working with Jimmy the Greek and Beano Cook), ESPN.com, ESPN Insider, and AOL. Now you know one side to the Podolsky, the journalist.

But, it’s often said that a good writer can write about anything, particularly any subject for which there is passion. His book that was in the making for seven years, “Don Kirshner: The Man with the Golden Ear,” really originated in the mind and heart of a young teenager from Philadelphia. So, what is it that made Podolsky jump over to write about rock and roll? One reason: music empresario Don Kirshner was Podolsky’s hero.

Here was a Baby Boomer teenager like any other, listening to his beloved Philco radio in his bedroom, getting ready for school, and when he’d matured to driving age, he’d be found motoring around Philly streets, blasting out the sounds of WIBG (Wibbage) Radio, with DJs Hy Lit and Joe Niagara, New York’s WABC go-to, Cousin Brucie (Bruce Morrow), as well as Jerry Blavat (WHAT). Today, WIBBAGE FM, 94.3 plays a popular 60s and 70s format with DJs like Philly Bill Culp, Jerry Beebe, syndicated favorites including John Records Landecker on Saturday night and Dave the Rave’s Relics and Rarities. Takes you back to ...back in the day, where every song you heard in high school and college had a meaning, had a part of your heart wrapped around it, and therein was the genesis for Richard Podolsky finding a backbeat to his youth.

As he shares, teenage Podolsky was fortunate that his father was a record buyer for Sun Rae, a Philadelphia record store chain. Enthusiastic discussions between father and son led to an early opportunity for Rich to start picking hits (long before he developed a knack for picking winning football teams). In his book’s foreword, he writes that his father had brought home a “pile of 45s that were untried and untested. He didn’t know if any of them were good, and assumed he might not recognize if they were since they weren’t his style.”

Rich’s first freelance discovery was “If I Had a Hammer” by a (then) unknown Peter, Paul, and Mary. Podolsky’s dad listened, and bought copies for the racks of all his stores. Within six weeks, it was a certified Top 10 hit because others discovered it, same as Podolsky. And thus began a lifetime of immersion in the music for young Rich Podolsky. Not long after, in the Spring of 1962, Rich’s dad invited him to attend a dinner sponsored by Cameo Parkway Records where they were introducing Dee Dee Sharp (“Mashed Potato Time”). He was thrilled to meet Chubby Checker that night, never dreaming that some 45 years later, he’d be on a radio program with him, discussing the greatest days of the music. Life’s funny that way.

Podolsky continues, of that night, “And then I saw him—Don Kirshner. There he was, walking toward us, looking larger than life. Kirshner was only twenty-seven then, but his song publishing firm, Aldon Music, was the talk of the business. He had that something that made people want to be around him.”

This biography was not the result of a longtime personal friendship between Podolsky and Kirshner. In fact it would take 40 years before Podolsky would consider writing the book in the first place, and it wasn’t until a long way into researching and interviewing hitmaking, ultratalented songwriters that he could even connect with Kirshner to learn if he would be willing to cooperate in telling his story. Based on reading the book, it’s easy to see that Podolsky’s respect and regard for the “man with the golden ear” is such that he would have written it with or without Kirshner’s help.

And yet, one day, skipping past months of attempts, e-mails, phone calls and messages via friends, and friends of friends, Podolsky’s phone rang, and the voice on the other end was indeed Kirshner’s. After an initial conversation, Kirshner agreed to share his memories with Podolsky. He writes, “Every Sunday morning for six months we’d chat over coffee and bagels, 1,300 miles apart.”

In Hal Leonard Books, Podolsky found a natural publishing partner to tell the story of a beloved man of music who is held in regard, respect, and just plain loved by the luminaries of the soundtrack of your life, if you’re any kind of Baby Boomer at all. Hal Leonard is as well known for music publishing as Campbell’s is for soup.

The list of those whose careers collided and excelled is long and strong. Don Kirshner made such an impact on the music of the 60s, by giving young songwriters their first breaks, their first chances, and fair profits and a nurturing environment in which to be creative. Kirshner partnered in business with a savvy businessman and gentleman, Al Nevins, and together they built an empire of publishing that was fueled and propelled to success by teenage songwriters.

The songwriters’ list is legendary: Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Neil Sedaka, Jack Keller, Howard Greenfield, Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, Carole Bayer Sager, on and on. The recording artists who were most impacted by Kirshner’s talents include some of Podolsky’s favorites: Connie Francis, The Monkees, The Archies, and Tony Orlando.

Orlando is more than a fan of Kirshner’s; he considers he owes his career to the “man with the golden ear,” a moniker given Kirshner by Time Magazine. Orlando’s foreword for the book notes Kirshner as a gentleman who “opened the door to independent record producers, allowing young record producers to be able to create and sell their works to major record companies.” Of course, fans of Orlando know him as a young demo singer who found a tremendous career that continues today when he was paired with studio singers Joyce Vincent Wilson and Telma Hopkins, better known as Dawn.

Speaking of better known, Podolsky’s book is a compendium of all the songs, songwriters, producers and music that the young man was memorizing alongside college courses, attaining the virtual equivalent of a PhD in rock and roll along the way. In a lovely section of the book, information is shared that perhaps any true 60s fan and proud owner of virtually every song that Podolsky describes, doesn’t realize is there.

The timing of the book’s release, by sheer happenstance, is made more poignant in last week’s unexpected passing of singer Davy Jones of The Monkees. Kirshner was instrumental in selecting the body of songs that The Monkees would record and perform on their Screen Gems TV Show.

One of the most influential producers Kirshner brought in was the great Jeff Barry, who had a string of hits already to his producer credit (The Crystals, The Shangri-Las, The Ronettes), today a member of the Songwriters Hall of Fame, but even moreso, Kirshner had access, via Barry, to his friends and colleagues among the best New York studio musicians.

It was just a matter of time before Monkee magic turned into Monkeemania, given the on-camera chemistry and underlying musical talent of Davy, Mickey, Peter, and Mike, which at the onset had not even yet been tapped. Kirshner and his team of creatives provided a springboard from which this group propelled to superstardom, and they’re not alone.

But, as Podolsky describes, Kirshner was not always beloved by the performers, which is entirely understandable, as there is always a chance for newfound stardom to convince a talented person that they could have reached those heights, no matter what. The relationship between Kirshner and The Monkees was not always a lovefest, and emotions run high even this week in the blogworld as to exactly how individual and collective Monkees felt (at different times) about Kirshner as producer. Podolsky shared with me, that when Jones was appearing as the Artful Dodger in “Oliver” on Broadway in 1964, “Don Kirshner had signed Jones” and later “was very influential in choosing Jones during the national casting call for The Monkees.”

Even before there was a Monkee madness, there was much more to Don Kirshner, and his ability to pick out talent by watching performers early on in their careers, foster that talent and put them together with the best writers, producers and arrangers to create vinyl magic for the artists, while Aldon Music published all of them, hitmakers indeed.

Among all the stories Kirshner and his friends share with Podolsky, the most heartwarming surely has to be how Kirshner sat in Kurtzman’s Candy Store in New York’s Washington Heights neighborhood. Kirshner’s friend, Natalie, described a friend of hers she was bringing over to meet him, as “the most talented human being she’d ever met.” At first meeting, that friend was a frightning sight of a frail, emotionless young man, who seemed ever older than his years.

He was introduced to “Kirsh,” the new name that the young man would give him, quickly, as Walden Robert Cassotto. After a brief discussion, the three went to Natalie’s house, wherein the man they would come to call Bobby Darin would blow Kirshner off the sofa and into full alert as he watched him play “You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby,” “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love,” and “Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey.”

As he performed, Kirshner saw “that something special” the young man possessed. The two became enjoined in creating music history, and engendered a lifetime of goodwill and best results for other talents in the music industry, e.g., Connie Francis as a new singer and a girl who’d fall madly in love with Darin, and Artie Wayne as a young songwriter, whom Darin sent to see Kirshner about a job, the first real break of his career. Ron Dante and Toni Wine are two more talents whose voices were part of American life, but not their names, yet who remain steadfast in their acknowledgment of Kirshner as mentor and friend.

It’s all about getting those breaks, those chances, those meetings that turns potential into reality. Listening, hearing, seeing, believing. Never more clear is it, than through this compelling volume is the music industry revealed to be a family with the circle growing smaller and tighter as the intermingling of people, places, faces and spaces intersects time and again to create magic. And there was Don Kirshner in the middle.

Sadly, Kirshner died before the book was published, and he also will miss this year’s planned induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on April 14th. Life comes full circle and great music always comes back around again. The music his father listened to because son Rich suggested it as a winner has won once again, in the biography of Don Kirshner.

Joyfully, today Rich has 14-year-old twins, whose musical tastes keep him at the top of today’ pop charts. His current favorites? Says Podolsky, “Adele, Taylor Swift and Cee-lo,” but he also confesses to having seen Little Anthony and the Imperials in a perfect show (“they can still hit all the notes”) and he’s delighted Steve Lawrence cut a new album (“I’d go just about anywhere to see him because he still sings lights out”). Talk about things coming back around again, just last night, Podolsky was a guest on Jerry Blavat’s radio program, an anniversary show with Chubby Checker, something that 16-year-old Podolsky would have never imagined happening back in the day.

Good music is timeless. Classic (rock) music is forever. And forever inscribed in the history books of rock and roll will be the name of Don Kirshner, a young man with a dream who lived to make others’ dreams happen alongside his own. Surely, it was the ride of a lifetime for many. And Rich Podolsky lived out his own dream, in writing Kirshner’s story.

Just makes you feel good to think about it. Now, someone turn up that radio, and let’s have a party, up on the roof, one fine day, because we have a groovy kind of love, and love will keep us together. Thank you, Don Kirshner.

Photo: Rich Podolsky is the author of Don Kirshner, The Man with the Golden Ear, Hal Leonard Books, published March, 2012. Review originally published on examiner.com and registered