Can't say I felt the usual nothing when I heard that Davy Jones, 66, had died of a massive heart attack yesterday.
I remember the Monkees from 1966, when I was 12 years old. I had a couple of their albums, and actually liked some of their songs. I hadn't heard -- or thought -- much about Jones since the 1960's, so hearing of his death really brought me back to a long ago time.
The Monkees were the first of the faux boy bands, a precursor to Menudo and the Backstreet Boys. All of these groups were cast for their potential appeal to tween girls, who prefer androgynous types to masculine men.
Even at 20, the 5' 3" Jones looked more like a cute 13-year-old:
Jones evidently made a living later with oldies nostalgia tours. He basically spent the rest of his life capitalizing on his cuteness at age 20.
Maybe that's how Justin Bieber will be making a living 40 years from now. (Why not?)
In any case, it was a little bit of a shock to hear that Jones had died. It felt as if a small part of my childhood had died.