Nevermind the thousands of mind-boggling innovations they brought to the stagnant wasteland of late 60's rock and roll; the Monkees also gave to music critics a new standard by which to measure the absolute worth of a band. Better than the gold/platinum record, better than release-week sales figures, even better than the number of weeks at number one was the Monkees' simple gift: the lunchbox. And, as measured in metric tons of pressed aluminum (with Davy Jones in relief) clutched in the greasy claws of school-age girls, the Monkees were the tops. So, it's only fitting that the bands contributing to a Monkees tribute album should be judged by the same rigorous standards. Literally hours of research conducted by Yours Truly have led me to this set of super-scientific critical conclusions regarding:

1. Coloring Book: Unfortunately, manufacturing of the Coloring Book lunchbox line was halted halfway through the production process when pre-kindergarten focus groups reacted violently against the group's dull elevator-muzak cover of "A Little Bit Me, a Little Bit You," calling it "puerile slop" (among other things). Luckily, the aluminum didn't go to waste; it was melted down and re-formed into a shape of an enormous globular monument to American Peanut Farming (commissioned by the city of Macon, Georgia).

2. The Rockets Red Glare: These guys managed to sell the Army a few "units" (as they say in the lunchbox "biz") with the bright, ultra-patriotic design formulated by the band's promotional team and the halfway-decent, countrified Built to Spill buzz of their "Listen to the Band" cover. However, "RRG Box Delta Charlie Foxtrot," as it was affectionately titled, quickly became a magnet for enemy fire, and the band lost its contract.

3. Headquarters: Even though they made a good stab at increasing their Box Quotient by naming themselves after a Monkees sessions, Headquarters' inability to produce anything better than an awkwardly voiced imitation of "Last Train to Clarksville" has really been hurting their sales in the last two quarters.

4. Newbill: A pretty hot seller among good-natured, wide-eyed, and slightly timid young boys (possibly due to their good-natured, wide-eyed, and slightly timid version of "Auntie's Municipal Court"), with an especially high turnover rate due to the lunchboxes' (and the boys') tendency to get mangled shortly after school.

5. Bikeride: The West Essex, Massachusetts Ladies Auxiliary bought two dozen Bikeride lunchboxes to take with them on their Spring Cross-County Cycle Tour, and though they found the band's quavery acoustic pop not half-bad, they agreed that "Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)" author Neil Diamond could have done better, "without that stupid harmonica."

6. Astropop 3: Though comparatively cheap, the band's line of minimal economy-boxes have been about as well-received as their numbingly straightforward and unenthusiastic "Forget That Girl" cover.

7. Jumprope: Product recalled after numerous small-girl-hangings, ostensibly attributable to the free nylon jumpropes included in every lunchbox, but more likely due to the band's depressingly horrid, oily-smooth lounge rendition of "Don't Call on Me."

8. Marykate O'Neil: Scored big with the dirty old man demographic by borrowing a little name recognition from those "Full House" twins (who, incidentally, have huge boxability potential) and playing off the surprising success of her energetic yet effortless "Pleasant Valley Sunday" cover.

9. The Mendoza Line: Sales sluggish, even though the band isn't bad. How do you expect to sell lunchboxes when you phone in thin cover versions of "I Wanna Be Free" like this one?

10. Sunday Smoke Kit: Popular with the more rebellious hippie kids these days, who fill their "Sunday Smoke Kit" with certain illicit substances and hum along with the carefree, fuzzy "Early Morning Blues and Greens."

11. The Echo Orbiter: Extremely unpopular in America, Echo Orbiter boxes eventually found a niche in the Soviet Union, where they were adopted by the Soyuz cosmonauts. These lunchboxes provided the home for many a dehydrated/pasty food by-product and the catalyst for vicious fun-poking sessions directed at the twisted, cynical capitalists who could produce such a sneering, hollow version of "I'm a Believer."

12. Mind Veneration: Along with the fact that it sounds vaguely like a degenerative brain disease, this brand's sales have been badly hurt by the band's absolutely repulsive electro-lite pop cover of "Shades of Gray."

13. Carter: Though quite popular among guys named Carter, the band's fairly uninspired lo-fi rendition of "Daydream Believer" has damaged their box's once-promising crossover potential.

14. Wolfie: Not even popular among guys named Wolfie. Maybe the mindlessly bouncy cover of the album's title track, "Through the Looking Glass," has something to do with it. We still lay more blame on "Li'l Bee is Dancin'."

15. El Squatcho: Formerly just "The Squatch," these guys' attempt to ride that trendy bilingual wave to the Secret Beach of Lunchbox Sales failed. An aquarium-concessions tie-in with their muddled, dolphin-sampling "Porpoise Song" cover has helped them recoup their losses, but stock prices are still down.

So there you have it. With a few exceptions, very low sales potentials all around. Though it may be a bit ruthless to compare these bands to the Monkees, the very least they could do to pay The Great Ones the homage they so deserve would be to move a few lunchboxes. Maybe, like so much of this "indie pop," sales are so low because the whimsy overwhelms the true power of pop music. Because the Monkees, man, they were the real thing.

-Brendan Reid