Davy Jones, RIP
A survey of recent boy bands suggests that when they break up, as they inevitably must, only one member emerges from the wreckage with his career unscathed. In Menudo, the survivor was Ricky Martin; in N*SYNC, Justin Timberlake; in the New Kids on the Block, Donny Wahlberg; in 98 Degrees, Nick Lachey. It’s almost like the other members of the band, the Joey Fatones and Justine Jeffres and Jordan Knights, must be sacrificed for the One to succeed, like so many captured pawns on a chessboard. (Members of Big Time Rush, take note).
If the Monkees are the original boy band — and they are — then Davy Jones was The One. Mickey and Michael and Peter were great, but Davy had that extra special something. (Study that photo; there’s something Bieberish about him, no?). He was an integral part of my childhood — “You loved them even more than Batman,” my mother reminded me on Facebook — and “Daydream Believer” was one of the first songs I sang for my kids when they were babies. And now he’s boarded the last train to Clarksville. The shaving razor’s cold, and it stings.