The Monkees - Headquarters (2LP) - Deluxe Edition Vinyl

By May 1967, the story of The Monkees had already twisted in a way few pop acts ever manage. After two hit albums built largely by outside songwriters and crack session players, the band pushed for control, got it, and walked into RCA Victor Studios in Hollywood to prove they were more than a TV confection. Headquarters is the moment they sound like a real, sweaty band in a room, and it’s still a blast to drop the needle on it today.

Part of the magic comes from the way they made it. With Chip Douglas, fresh off The Turtles, producing and playing traffic cop, and engineer Hank Cicalo behind the board, the four Monkees played their own instruments and chased something rawer. You can hear the difference right away. Michael Nesmith’s “You Told Me” opens with a cheeky count-in and Peter Tork’s banjo cutting across the beat, then locks into a ringing guitar groove that feels equal parts garage and country. The record is dotted with these kinds of small, human details. Bits of studio chatter. Quick instrumentals like “Band 6.” A tossed-off rave-up called “No Time” that sounds like the tape was rolling while everyone grinned.

The songs are better than the skeptics ever gave them credit for. “You Just May Be the One” is two minutes and change of tight bass, choppy guitars, and Micky Dolenz singing like he’s been fronting a band since high school. Nesmith’s “Sunny Girlfriend” rides a ragged little riff and hints at the country-rock he’d pioneer a few years later. “Shades of Gray” slows things down and gives Davy Jones and Peter Tork a shared lead vocal that really lands, an older-than-their-years meditation that still plays quietly powerful. Then there’s “Randy Scouse Git,” written by Dolenz after a wild London night that included the Beatles. It mutters about the “four kings of EMI,” bangs toms like a marching band gone rogue, and turns into a chant you can’t help but shout. When it went to the UK, the title was deemed too cheeky, so it became “Alternate Title” and hit the charts there.

There’s a reason fans treat Headquarters as a line in the sand. It spent a week at number one on the Billboard album chart in 1967 before giving way to Sgt. Pepper’s. More than chart trivia, that one week signaled that listeners heard the difference. The Monkees were a band, and they sounded like one. “For Pete’s Sake,” co-written by Tork and Joey Richards, not only closes the album with a brisk jangle, it became the closing theme of the show’s second season. Even the experiments have had long lives. “Zilch,” a spoken-word goof, includes the phrase “Mr. Dobolina, Mr. Bob Dobalina,” later lifted into hip-hop history by Del the Funky Homosapien. Dig around the session history and you’ll find they even cut “All of Your Toys,” a lovely track shelved at the time over publishing issues and later celebrated on reissues.

If you’re eyeing The Monkees vinyl, this is the record that tells you who they were when it counted. The mono mix is punchier and often preferred by collectors, while the stereo breathes a bit more around the edges. Rhino has kept their catalog well served in recent decades, and clean copies of Headquarters vinyl are worth hunting down. The acoustic guitars ring, the toms thump, and the harmonies sit just loose enough to feel alive. If you like the rush of a group woodshedding its own sound, this one rewards a real-time listen, start to finish.

I keep coming back to how human it feels. Nesmith in the left channel nudging the band forward. Tork switching from keys to bass. Micky finding the pocket as a drummer, not just a singer. Davy leaning into a ballad with unexpected restraint. It’s the sound of four guys who finally got the keys and drove the car far enough to see their own horizon. If you’re crate digging in a Melbourne record store, or scrolling through vinyl records Australia late at night, put this near the top of the list. You can buy The Monkees records online easily enough, but part of the fun is finding a well-loved copy with a slightly frayed spine and a previous owner’s initials on the inner sleeve.

For anyone building a shelf of The Monkees albums on vinyl, Headquarters belongs in the sweet spot, right between pop fantasy and band reality, flickering with joy and a little bit of stubborn pride. However you file it, it’s the record that turns the joke into a story worth believing.