First Place Goes To...

I was reading an interview with Michael Nesmith on Al Gore's Internet the other day. I've been a fan of Mike's since he showed up on my television in that wool hat, singing songs with his bandmates, The Monkees. A couple of generations ago, I was given second pick in the "who is your favorite band" category. My older brother picked the Beatles. I picked the Monkees. Over the years I began to understand the differences not just in style but in the makeup of these two groups. But since I too had taken to wearing a knit cap when I was nine, it seemed like a pretty savvy choice. 
Back to the interview: Mister Nesmith was discussing the past and future of the Monkees, preparing to go out on tour with the other surviving member of the group, Mickey Dolenz. The Mickey and Mike tour will bring the pop music made famous by the remaining duo, along with a few of their solo tunes. This announcement did not take me aback. Mike had surrendered to the nostalgia machine a few years back, and was prepared to take it on the road one more time. What did surprise me was the way he talked about his old bandmates. The ones who had passed on. About Peter Tork: "We didn’t have too many civil words to say to each other, but we also didn’t fight all the time. We just didn’t say much. There wasn’t a lot to say. Peter would play me the songs that he thought were good and I didn’t. And I would play him the songs I thought were good and he wouldn’t. Then we just left it at that. Partners in silence." And Davy Jones: "We were all friends on some level, very casual work-space partners."
Immediately I was tossed back into the feelings I had after reading a similarly dated interview with Pete Townshend. Regarding the Who's departed bassist and drummer, “It’s not going to make Who fans very happy, but thank God they’re gone." Ouch. More pointedly about Keith Moon: "With Keith, my job was keeping time, because he didn’t do that. So when he passed away, it was like, ‘Oh, I don’t have to keep time anymore.’” Then there was this faint praise for the other survivor, lead singer Roger Daltrey: “I used to say that I love him, but with my fingers crossed,” Townshend said of Daltrey. “Now, I like him too. I like all his eccentricities, his foibles, his self-obsession, and his singer thing. Everything about him.”
All of which brought the focus back to those in the first choice band, the Beatles. Their in-fighting was legendary and was even documented in a film titled, amusingly enough, Let It Be. The acrimony that left the biggest band in the world in tatters swirled about for years after they stopped writing and recording together. The past fifty years for Paul and Ringo have been all about making amends, in little and big ways. It should be noted that the Fab Four never reunited as a band, nor did they tour in parts other than the occasional very special guest appearance. In the meantime, they have been happy to reminisce in respectful ways about one another, seeking common ground and happy memories. Those two seem very content to let the myth survive. 
Which probably has a lot to do with them being the Beatles.