POP MUSIC REVIEW : Nesmith Goes Out on a Limb for the Monkees

On the one hand, it’s been easy to sympathize over the years with Michael Nesmith’s refusal to take part in any Monkees reunions. Here he is, trying to establish a serious film-making career and pass through middle age with a few shreds of dignity, while his three erstwhile comrades in simianism head toward their golden years on the state-fair circuit, making funny faces and singing tunes about how “baby, you’ll soon be 16.”

On the other hand, those with the slightest traces of mid-’60s nostalgia may have occasionally felt the urge to shake Nesmith by the lapels and demand: “What’s your problem, anyway, buddy? Ungrateful for all those royalties? Too artistic now to acknowledge your past and have a little fun, for criminy’s sake? Loosen up, pal!”

Nesmith finally did just that on Sunday before a sold-out Universal Amphitheatre crowd, gamely joining Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork for the last 45 minutes of the Monkees’ set for a one-time-only complete reunion. He playfully made a show out of his initial reluctance to join in all their Monkee games, but clearly seemed to get a kick out of finally participating in the silliest of charades--up to and including a rap version of the Monkees’ theme, and the climactic TV-show Foreign Legion Monkee walk.

Between goofiness, the other three backed Nesmith up on two songs from his solo career, “Cruisin’ ” and the 1970 country-rockish hit “Joanne,” as well as a couple of numbers he sang lead on during the group’s heyday. In return, he was good sport enough to take a backing role (on acoustic guitar and vocals) on some of the better pop confections of the ‘60s, most memorably “Last Train to Clarksville,” “Daydream Believer” and “I’m a Believer.”

Davy: “Where’ve you been?”

Michael: “I’ve been looking for my hat!”

That sort of exchange was barely a step above all the scripted Monkeeshtick that preceded Nesmith’s arrival on stage (“We’ve had a request,” “But we’re going to go right on singing,” et al.). Nevertheless, it was a shamefully nostalgic kick to see Nesmith--even with hands plunged into the pockets of his pleated pants--get down and monkey around. As Devo would attest, de-evolution has its charms.