Regarding mislaid hats and passing realisations

“ummm — I just checked and — wow — just — wow. The Monkees Good Times is Number One on Amazon — solid 5 stars — and I’d just like to say — wow — and ummm just — you know — thanks. no kiddin’. Played a song and someone’s listenin’. I gotta find my hat.”

Michael Nesmith, Facebook post (May 28, 2016)

For those of us who love music, 2016 has been, thus far, a rough year. After sharing some thoughts about the loss of David Bowie and Glenn Frey, I couldn’t bring myself to do the same for His Majesty, Prince. I just couldn’t.

I started to do so – there’s an abandoned draft in the folder – but the words I could come up with didn’t seem adequate descriptors of the talent and impact of the man. He was of ‘my’ generation in a way that the other two weren’t. Whilst David and the Eagle(s) were always and forever a part of my awareness of things that are good and wondrous about this life I lead, I met Prince at about the same time as the rest of the world did so.

I can remember the first time I saw him so distinctly…  and every little bit of the video for ‘Little Red Corvette’ remains highly detailed in my memory (oddly-functioning encyclopedia that it is).

There is, and can be, no one like him. I know that I wrote that about Bowie, too. Two icons – lost to us (save through the catalogues they left us , and the impact of those songs and their other, myriad, contributions) months apart.

He visited my hometown (a place he loved and where he lived, for a time) shortly before we lost him. I was in the midst of the move and setting up house so took a pass on the show. Chatting about it with a friend, we both agreed that we’d catch him next time he comes through town.


And then, just a short time later, Gord Downie announced to the world that we are losing him too. The Tragically Hip will tour one last time – in support of their latest studio album and to give all us Canadians a chance to say farewell to our most Canadian band. Ever.

(Don’t agree with my assessment? I’m happy to discuss. But I’ll win. Certain things are inarguable. This is one of them.)

I’m not going to talk about the whole debacle surrounding ticket sales to said concerts – although I loathe the giant ticket conglomerates only slightly less than I despise those vultures who cry ‘free market’ and are benefiting from Gord’s illness – and the loyalty and love of his fans – and reselling the tickets at exorbitant prices.

Instead I’ll say a little something (in passing, since I’m not going to eulogize someone who remains amongst us) about my deep affection for this band and all that they have meant and represented to me over the manymany years I’ve had the good fortune to be part of their sphere of influence.

I hung out at Queen’s University in Kingston a fair bit when I was a younger me, so I got to see the Hip, on more than one occasion, in bars and small clubs as they began their climb to dominance over cottage-and-campus playlists across this country of ours.

I saw them in large venues, too. A couple of nights in that place in Ottawa where their hockey team plays, (they keep changing its name), for example, the second of which featured nothing but B-sides and a 20-minute version of ‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald’ that was classic Gordie.

Since I’ve been fortunate enough to spend a fair bit of time with them, I’ve decided not stress too much at my inability to see them on this last tour. I’ll happily pay for the album when it is available, and hang out with them on my own, and in carefully-chosen company (non-believers in their status as our national band need not apply), whenever I have the chance. On my back deck, or in front of a fire or down by the lake at the cottage.

I’ve mentioned before that, for me, in many ways, ‘Last American Exit’ remains the definitive Hip tune. It very much speaks to their unconcern about the development (or lack thereof) of a huge fan-base in the States, and their eternal presence in their home and native land. It’s also the first song of theirs I heard – and the first Hip vinyl I purchased. Still love it (and have it back in my hot little hands after the years in storage).

Lately, though, the sentimental/nostalgic tune that keeps hitting me in the heart is this one:

(WordPress won’t let me insert videos any longer. Unless I want to pay for the privilege. Not going to happen.)

First thing we’d climb a tree and maybe then we’d talk
Or sit silently and listen to our thoughts
With illusions of someday casting a golden light
No dress rehearsal, this is our life…

You are ahead by a century (this is our life)
You are ahead by a century (this is our life)
You are ahead by a century

And disappointing you is getting me down

Like all their songs (there’s an entire history of Canada in their lyrics to be learned, if you listen closely), ‘Ahead by a Century’ speaks to a particular time-and-place, while being – simultaneously – universal in theme and scope.

(I can see that hornets’ nest. Been there, been stung by that.)

It’s hard not to feel that his voice – a voice I’ve known and loved for almost 30 years – is speaking to me directly. Through this song (through all their songs, all their talent) and through the reality of the health situation that may rob us of Gord.

There isn’t enough time, folks.

2016 is bringing home that message in a bigbig way.

Recently I realized (and expressed the realisation in an email exchange with one of my oldest buds) that I am doing the absolute wrong thing with my life (and that is saying a whole lot, given that I have spent most of my life avoiding subscription to most of those things that many people would deem ‘absolute’).

Part of that realisation stems from frustration and feeling under-appreciated and under-utilized and, simultaneously, over-burdened, to be sure. But more of it – most of it – comes from the awareness that we are sinking, as a species, and I’m not doing much of anything to help us swim.

I need to do better. I need to use the talents I can call upon to impact and influence as best I can.

I’m not doing that right now.

I’m trying to figure out how to change that.

I need to stop disappointing. That’s something that’s most certainly bringing me down.

‘When it starts to fall apart, man it really falls apart.’ True dat, Gordie.

But. In the midst of all that dissolution, we don’t always have to look that hard to find the inspiration to (re)build.

When Davy Jones passed away in 2012 he took a big piece of my heart with him. I love The Monkees. I always have done. (I’ve written about them before, too, but I’m not even going to try to link the posts. Not enjoying the ‘updates’ to the composition page here in WP).

So when rumours started that the remaining three guys were thinking about a 50th anniversary album… Be still my holey heart.

With contributions from all kinds of interesting peeps (including XTC’s Andy Partridge, and my beloved Paul Weller), and recordings from back-in-the-day that let Davy’s voice yet be heard, this album makes all of me smile in a reallyreally big way.

Suddenly, everyone seems to be talking about The Monkees. I couldn’t be happier about that. They’re getting some much-belated and well-earned props (not that they’ve ever felt the need to bemoan their heretofore lack thereof), which is awesome. More than that, they’re demonstrating the power of well-crafted songs that can transcend genre and era, both.

In a world of increasingly-auto-tuned ‘musical’ acts, I can’t help but smile at the irony that the original ‘manufactured’ band of the 60’s is topping the charts in 2016. I. Love. It. I’m gloating and glowing, all at the same time. And getting shivers listening to songs like this one:

While I do love them all, Papa Nez has always been a personal hero of mine. He has invented and reinvented himself so many times (invention must run in his family) – always pushing against whatever envelopes he might encounter – creating new and different means of expressing those things he feels some examination.

His innovation and refusal to be categorized or compartmentalized are inspirational to the Nth degree.

In a recent interview about all this, Michael was asked about his thoughts on what, exactly, might be driving this particular resurgence and receptiveness to what a bunch of old(er) guys have to offer a somewhat jaded and superficial music-buying public (forgive my admittedly-biased editorializing).

His response? Well, the real answer is, “I don’t know.” It’s obviously plugged into something that’s very deep. People who come to it at an early age get impressed by it in a way you wouldn’t if you discovered it when you’re older. But it certainly speaks to a kind of innocence, something that does endure. Those are spiritual qualities that don’t go away. You may lose your innocence, but you don’t lose your sense of innocence, is what that means. It’s a nice thing to revisit.’

(The whole chat can be read at:

That depth of which he speaks? For me it’s about a connectivity, linked to an appreciation for and understanding of the absolutely (there’s that word again) required role of art and craft – and the important, if not always tangible or quantifiable, vitality and progressiveness that inform and permit the appearance in our world of the ensuing results, given to us by those who have the courage, and the innovation, and the talent, to show the rest of us how they see things.

I won’t, likely, have an opportunity to see, live, this most recent demonstration of a lifetime of that art and craft as presented by my remaining Monkee-dudes. I won’t see the Hip that last one more time, either.

Instead, I will get back into the world of music and its magic when I go to see Lord Huron next month. Tickets for their show don’t require taking a second mortgage on the house (or putting cash into the hands of scalpers), and, after more than a year of loving their flavour of creative input, I’m looking forward to participating in its appreciation, as they bring their tour to Toronto.

(check out this one – my current fave from their most recent album – if you’re curious about them:

When I showed him Michael’s Facebook post about the success of their new album, my friend, the incomparable Len, said: “FIND YOUR HAT, MIKE. STAT.”

Len’s plea, that Papa Nez might be able to navigate his competing responsibilities and commitments (his explanation about his inability to join Micky and Peter for the tour’s duration involves a deadline to be met for his most recent novel, among other things) and provide us with the opportunity to be a part of something new and old and complete just one more time, resonated more than I can explain.

If Michael Nesmith, with everything that he does already to improve and inform and entertain us all, can find some time in his schedule… I need to step up and sort myself out.

So I’m going to have a look for my missing headgear – such as it is, and set aside for too long though it may have been – with an eager ear tuned to the sources of dedication, inspiration and example upon which I can call.

Not enough time for disappointment and disengagement.

Where did I put that hat?

23 comments on “Regarding mislaid hats and passing realisations

  1. Cole — thanks so much for this…I like, like, like, love, love, love, love this post.

    Ditto Prince, Ditto Bowie, Ditto the Hip, Ditto the Monkeys.

    What the (insert swear word here) is going on?

    I keep hearing Harry Chapin singing in my head “the day the music died.”

    Find that hat!!!

    • and the new Monkey’s album…it is spine tingling…I have great memories of seeing the monkeys live. really nice guys

    • colemining says:

      Thanks, Booksy (although I think you mean Don McLean. Not to be pedantic, but that song… oh how I love that song. One of the greatest of all time. And yes, highly appropriate this year).

      No clue what is going on, but figuring out that excuses aren’t cutting it any more. We’re getting some hard lessons, lately. I only hope I can take them on board and have them spur me to action.

      Hope your summer is going well (and that you avoided all contact with the sinkhole. As I was singing all day yesterday ‘Ottawa is sinking, man, and I don’t wanna swim’).

      Thanks for the visit! xo

      • Yes, Don McLean! No, I didn’t fall in–and actually Ottawa is taking it really well. Showing we do have a sense of humour after all! Haven’t officially started summer yet – but soon. Hope you have a good one too!

      • colemining says:

        The meme with our PM and the sinkhole was awesome (‘juste un trou d’eau’. Freakin classic). And there was one with the sinkhole and the fugitive Toronto capybara… I suppose there is some humour to be found in the Nation’s Capital. 😉

        It has certainly felt like summer (although the nights have been chilly lately) – so I suppose I’m jumping the gun a bit. Once the Jays start playing, it’s hard to hold onto Spring-thoughts!

  2. Cole, great post. Agree Mike Nez has always been way ahead of his time; his genius, after all, invented the new paradigm of the music video. If it hadn’t been for his ideas, there would be no MTV.

    With Bowie, Frey and Prince, it reminds me these kind of icon deaths somehow come in threes. Year after year, as one, then two occur, I always find myself waiting for the third and it always seems to arrive. Let’s hope there’s not another; we’ve lost a lot of music soul this year.

    • colemining says:

      Hi Susan! Thank you for the visit!

      I tend to get a little defensive when I talk about Papa Nez – at least with those who associate him solely with his green hat. The innovation – and yes, the origin of the music video… he has created so many incredible things. I’m planning to revisit all his fiction on a mini-staycation next weekend. I’m trying to take my inspiration wherever I can find it, lately, and there’s a stream that is connected to a tv show that debuted before I was born that is giving me a whole lot of food for thought.

      Hope all is well with you. xo

  3. bethbyrnes says:

    Cole, this was so satisfying to read. I am not the slightest bit hip and never been plugged into any hip music scene, but I loved Prince and the Monkees. I have lots of both on my iPod.

    As for what we do with our lives. When we start to wake up, around level -384, we become a bit depressed, feel a sense of futility, of disappointment and almost a paralysis about what to do, that becomes full blown at -192 (simply to use the language of that paradigm for this slow and often elusive awakening process that I talked about myself recently).

    As hard as it is to accept, this is a positive sign. Keep on seeing it and yourself (and you look mighty fine to these eyes), and the clouds will lift.

    It also helps to take phosphatidylserine, LOL! That’s what I do when I need a lift. 😀 ❤

    • colemining says:

      Beth- it’s interesting. When I made the decision to get out of academia, I was 100% sure that it was the right thing to do. I stand by that – the world of the university is too fraught with dysfunction and inequity for my comfort – and really thought that deciding to participate in a different way (in a different field/wheelhouse) altogether would offer a new direction.

      Not so much. It’s taken me a while to really take that on board, but, now that I have, I’m trying to focus on changing the situation as proactively as possible. Transition and change are rarely fun – boy, do I know that. But having made the decision to take action? That’s helping with the feelings of futility and disappointment. At least a little 🙂

      Thank you, as always, for your insights and your input. When I have a space of time I need to look more into that paradigm you discussed in your recent post (and mention here). Very intriguing.

      Loved today’s post about your visit to that little ‘cottage’. Lol. DEF doesn’t fit my definition of the word. But won’t be long now before I’m headed northward for some lake time. Happy weekend! xo

      • bethbyrnes says:

        I made that tough decision too, mostly because we moved from NY to LA and there were no jobs. I would have been a fully tenured Professor back at Columbia by now, had I just stayed. I was already teaching there when I left. But, academic politics are not for me. That department had little use for female professors. It would have been hard for me to stomach.

        I am not sorry I left, although the security would have been nice. Going back to teaching as an adjunct for the measly money offered is not worth my time. I would rather be poor than miserable.

      • colemining says:

        It’s worse for women, to be sure. I had a lovely catch-up with a friend who, after years of adjunct work, earned a tenure-track position (she studies and teaches about young women and media). The situation at her uni is as bad (if not worse) as it was at mine when I left. Women adjunct professors… yeah. I can’t imagine going back to that. Poor AND miserable, in my experience.

        And the politics… don’t get me started. All the more reason I need to find another way. Wherever that way may take me. Although I do miss being in the classroom. And (some of) the students… Sigh.


  4. Ste J says:

    Modern music, especially the over hyped popular stuff is very plastic and all about marketing, the older songs are simpler in melody and the lyrics are more catchy. Most oft he music these days won’t stand the test of time because it just doesn’t have that class overall.

  5. The Hook says:

    I’ve met the Monkees, but not Nesmith, sadly.

  6. […] paintings in every song. I can see the scenes and the characters as he sings about them. I wrote about the band, along with another guy you might’ve heard of, when I was hoping to get back […]

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