John Kioussis, Creme Soda, Paul Weller And Me

It was 2017 or 2018, I think. I was contacted through this blog about a record collection that a reader wanted to unload. After a few email volleys about what he had for sale, he mentioned that he was up in Ithaca, which is a four hour ride from me and then a four ride back. I explained that I needed to know in detail what was in the collection. A general description would have been fine if he was closer, but a road trip needs to be worth the road trip. So for the next week or so, he sent "flip videos," which is essentially "vinyl porn." He filmed his hands flipping through a thousand records, totalling about 20-25 videos. I was in heaven. 

 

"Flip slower. There ya go. Right there. Nice."

There was good and bad, as expected. There was also a lot of unexpected "great." I said that, assuming everything was in solid shape, I could make an offer based on the videos. He accepted that offer immediately and said, "Thank you. That is really fair." I was thrilled that he felt that way because I knew I offered higher than usual. He had the goods. 

I don't recall seeing Creme Soda's "Tricky Zingers" in any of those videos.

My buddy offered to drive and we were on our way.  We arrived in decent time and were led to the record room. It all looked to be in solid shape, as promised. We started to load up his car until there wasn't even room left for a playing card. The back of the car was sagging a bit, and there were still 200-300 records left on the shelves. I explained to the gentleman that we simply couldn't take the rest, which were mostly records I didn't want anyway. It was the usual suspects, records that everyone had, good music, but bad sellers. You know, Carly Simon, Carole King, James Taylor, showtunes, etc. I was fine paying what I offered for what we had room to take, and I suggested donating the rest, assuring him there was nothing being left behind that was worth anything, especially to another dealer. Still, I gave it one last perusal to be safe. That's when I saw Creme Soda.  

 

 

 

I didn't know what it was, so I wasn't looking for it. And because it wasn't in the original videos, I wasn't able to look it up to find out. But that's the best kind of record. Never leave behind what you don't know. I grabbed it, and whatever else I could carry and ride home with on my lap. 

The ride home was almost five hours long. We had to drive much slower due to the weight of the car. My buddy helped me unload. I paid him for his amazing service and he seemed happy.

About a week later, as I started sorting through the collection, cleaning and showing off on social media, my friend John called. John Kioussis is a legendary NYC record dealer and fellow Astorian, living just a few blocks away. He asked if he could come over and look through it all. At this time I should point out that I referred to John as a "friend." But realistically, he was a very, very difficult friend, not just to me, but to most who knew him. We went back 30 years, and between 1990 and 2020, spent more time avoiding each other than hanging out. I tried hard because I saw a good soul. Most everyone did. But John always seemed to sabotage whatever good stretch we were having.

I told John to come over, but that I wasn't ready to sell yet. He was free to look, and that he did. He was talking and talking and talking, while flipping and flipping, most of the time looking at me and not the records, as he tore into mutual friends, bitching about the pettiest things, and trashing people I knew and mostly respected. It was not an easy hang. But he did finally shut the fuck up when he saw "Tricky Zingers," the Creme Soda record. He inspected it inside and out. He looked at the spine, and the corners and the back panel. He removed the record from the jacket and walked out of my garage and into the sun, searching in the hardest of light for any defects or flaws. 

"How much do you want for this?"

"I don't know John. I've never seen it before. Let me look it up."

I looked it up. The cheapest available at the time was $1500.  This private press from Wisconsin was a psych/folk gem and John knew exactly what it was. John's knowledge went deep on a lot of subjects, but it went deepest on the music he loved.

"Make me an offer, John. If it's fair, I won't haggle."

"$800."

"Deal."

"But I won't be able to pay you for a month."

Now, I just shelled out a few thousand dollars and I would have liked to get some of it back. But I said, "Okay John."

He then gave my garage a once over, and as if in some sort of cosmic state, zoomed in on a box where I kept rolls of paper towels. He put the record back securely hidden behind six rolls of Bounty.

I felt good. I made him happy. I felt like it was a solid gesture that, just maybe, he needed, and for me it felt like I removed the thorn from the lion's paw.

He came by after only two weeks and paid me with eight crisp $100 bills.

And that is the Creme Soda soda story...

...except, this.

About two years later,  John had a Paul Weller record I had been searching for listed on his Discogs page, which I checked regularly. He was asking $180. That wasn't much more than it usually goes for, but I thought with a friendly discount and the Creme Soda gesture, maybe he'd let it go for $125. 

He knocked $10 off the record.

"I can do $170. I just put it up for sale. I want to see what it will do."

And that was strike three. (No need to tell you strikes one and two, though most people who knew both of us said they would have given up on him after strike one.)

I never spoke to John again after that and on the occasion I did see him either at a record show or in the neighborhood, I'd walk the other way.

John passed away back in April. His bad health had caught up with him. There were a lot of tributes to the man on social media, many with the same disclaimers about how difficult he could be. But we all agreed, he was a good soul in spite of his exterior. He didn't have an easy life for a number of reasons that I don't need to disclose. But trust me, you'd hate mankind too if you had to live the way he lived.

John, if you are somehow watching from above (or below), maybe you can talk to "whoever" and try getting "Tricky Zingers" back to me. Or, how about that $700 I might have made if I turned down your offer. I could sure use it.

 

More importantly, I hope John, that you are finally at peace. 

Your Wednesday Moment Of Cajun Magique

 

 

From Lake Arthur, Louisiana, please clear your minds and enjoy the magical mood of Pee Wee Kershaw, brother of Doug & Rusty, and his 1961 b-side on Goldband Records, "You're So Fine."

Back in September, I created a Weekend Mix of some of my favorite Goldband records and it went over quite well. This gem somehow got overlooked. It's understandable. Out of 300 tracks in my Goldband folder, I needed to pick 30 for the mix. Maybe it's time for Volume Two. 

It's All Good, Sugar...The New Greenberry Woods Record, That Is

 

The first thing I was going to say about The Greenberry Woods was that the last time I listened to them was the 90's. I really enjoyed those first two records on Sire, and I wondered why I stopped listening. As it turned out, there was nothing to listen to. They stopped making records until 2018. Here I was thinking, I have a lot to catch up on. Instead, it wasn't my fault for a change.

That said, the new album, "It's All Good, Sugar..." is a killer. And it's aptly named.

There is so much melody and jangle, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

This comes 8 years since their last release and while I need to remind myself what I loved about their first two...it's been awhile...I can say confidently, I don't remember loving them as much as I loved "It's All Good, Sugar..."

If I had one nit to pick it's this. They seem to have three different lead singers, or that's how it sounds to my ears. One of those three voices is not quite as good as the other two, making those couple of songs weaker than the rest. As I said, I am picking nits, but thought it was an honest complaint, since this could have been a perfect record.

Still, "It's All Good, Sugar..." is one of the best records of the year.

 

"The Boys Of Dungeon Lane." Do Not Resist! It's Unbecoming. And Boring.

 

 

"As You Lie There," the first track on Paul McCartney's new album "The Boys Of Dungeon Lane" is one of the greatest pieces of record making I've heard in a very long time. It could only come out of the mind of Paul. Or, was it out of the mind of producer Andrew Watt?

I'm bettting on the exacta.

"As You Lie There" sounds like nothing Paul has done before, and we're talking about a career that is pushing 70 years. It's a stunning piece of work.

I was prepared to call this album the greatest of Paul's career based on this one song. But of course, I snapped out of the reverie by track two, "Lost Horizon," which is more like what we've been hearing on recent Macca records, and that's not a bad thing. It's a nifty little pop tune that any songwriter would kill to have written. 

This album evokes a number of different Macca eras. "Ripples In A Pond" and "Never Know" both hit the spot. Either could have been placed comfortably on "Tug Of War." "Down South" and "We Two" have simple, uncrowded production not unlike "Chaos & Creation In The Backyard," which is a late career masterpiece, my third favorite McCartney album and is now shockingly 20 something years old. 

Paul is looking back. In his words, "Maybe it's because of the point in my life." He said he enjoys looking back. He actually started looking back in a not so subtle way in 2013, with songs like "Early Days," "Queenie Eye" and "On My Way To Work," all from the "New" album. He never says "Beatles," but those songs couldn't be about anyone else. Many of the songs on "Dungeon Lane" feel the same way. There is even an appearance by Ringo on the first ever Ringo/Paul duet, "Home For Us," which is pure joy.

McCartney's voice is weathered. He is 84. But don't let the word "weathered" fool you. You don't need to be in good voice to be a great singer. His singing is better than most of his peers and these songs pair up wonderfully with the quality of his voice.

There are so many gems on this record, even the songs I thought were weak at first, "Mountain Top" with its unexpected coda, or "Come Inside," which sounds like a rewrite of "If You Wanna" from "Flaming Pie," or maybe "Save Me" from the aforementioned "New," I havent figured it out yet, have moments that made me smile. 

"Dungeon Lane" finishes strong with some true beauty. Both "Salesman Saint" and "Momma Gets By" hit harder, at least from a musical POV, than anything I've heard from McCartney in a very long time. The arrangements are bold and pack a wallop. And "First Star Of The Night" is simply gorgeous.

"The Boys Of Dungeon Lane" has been getting rave reviews, at least those are the reviews I've seen so far. It's easy to understand. It's great music from one of the greatest living songwriters that isn't Diane Warren. The man is a treasure. (Did you see him play trumpet on Colbert's last show? WTF? Trumpet!) 

You can resist if you want. Be that guy who can't stop mentioning "My Love," even though it was a major hit and has one of the greatest guitar solos ever committed to tape, courtesy of Henry McCullough. You can cite the lyrics to "Silly Love Songs" as insipid and well, silly, even though the bass playing would make you want to sell your Hofner and the horn arrangement is worthy of its own documentary. You can, and you will, trash most of McCartney's work since...what..."Band On The Run?" That is certainly what it feels like sometimes. It's fashionable. Dimiss ""Flowers In The Dirt," "Flaming Pie," "Driving Rain," and "Memory Almost Full," if that's what you're feeling.  But at least pass a lightning round of "What about this song?" Dollars to donuts, you wouldn't win the Quoizel lamps.
Resisting is boring. Get in on it. 

NO ONE has been this consistent. Or smart. Or daring. Or charming. NO ONE.

I hope Andrew Watt and Sir Paul cut twice as many songs, the way the Rolling Stones did during the "Hackney Diamonds" sessions. I'd love one more Macca/Watt album while we are still all around to hear it.

 

 

 

And I love this.

 

Songs Of The Week, 2026: 5/23-5/29

 

Three Hours Past Midnight- Johnny "Guitar" Watson
Teacher Of Love- Ray Barretto 
Nineteen Fifty-Six- The Rascals
You Don't Know What Love Is- Sonny Rollins
Sombre Reptiles- Brian Eno
Requiem- King Crimson
Struggle- Toots & The Maytals

zip 

These seven songs cover a lot of ground. 

You know why Sonny Rollins is here. It would have been easy to go with "St. Thomas." But, "You Don't Know What Love Is" feels like the better tribute

That Ray Barretto track should get you moving. 

And that Rascals deep cut has always been a fave. Dino is swingin'!

 

Have at it. 

"Pay It Back: The Original Costello Covers: : THE WEEKEND MIX(ES)

I originally posted this back 2012 but the files have long been dead. I decided to resurrect and restore because you deserve it.

This is one helluva collection, if I do say so myself. This two-parter gathers the original versions of a surplus of songs covered by Mr. McManus over the years. You will get the original versions of everything found on both "Almost Blue" and "Kojak Variety," as well as a plethora of EC bonus tracks and b-sides all by the original artists.

What else can I say? 

Dig in.

Enjoy the Weekend Mixes!


Part 1

Part 2

 

 

 

Squeezin'

 

From 1985, please enjoy what I thought was a new Squeeze single when I first heard it, George Benson's almost Top 40 hit, "20/20."

I don't believe George Benson has ever tried to sound like Glenn Tilbrook before, or for that matter, after this record.