I don't know why this fascinates me as much as it does. Maybe it's
because the idea is so wacky. Or maybe it's the element of surprise
every time I put on a reggae record. I expect to hear one song but
get another. Regardless of how shady the practice might be, I think it's a whole lotta fun. I mean,
could you see an American artist recording a straight cover of "Street
Fighting Man" and calling it "The Jungle" and putting his name
underneath as the writer? Never gonna happen, friends! But in jolly ol'
Jamaica, this is more common than spliff clouds.
Today's example is a song called "Musical Happiness" by the Soul Vendors. On some 45s, the writer is credited as Rolando Alphonso. On others, it's C. Dodd. But one listen to the chorus, and you'll realize, someone is getting the shaft.
Love Removal Machine- The Cult Day Tripper- Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66 Little Willie- Berna-Dean The Experts- Betty Wright Paul McCartney- Tony Hazzard Everything- Adrian Belew Party Girl- Elvis Costello & The Attractions
Here are 26 more gems from Lake Charles, Louisiana.
It ain't all waltzes, so dig in.
TRACKLIST
Mes Cinquantes Sous- Eddie Shuler's All Star Reveliers Mabel's Gone- Johnny Jano Corpus Christi- Danny James Jolie Tee Catin- Clarence Garlow Broken Hearted Rollin' Tears- Guitar Junior My Baby's Done Gone Away- Al Ferrier Please Accept My Love- Jimmy Wilson Why Why Why- Little Ray Campbell & The Joe Williams Combo You're So Fine- Pee Wee Kershaw Going Back To Crocodle- Cajun Joe Sundown Waltz- Sundown Playboys Dirty Deal- Classie Ballou Whole Lotta Drinkin' On The Block-Left Hand Charlie Freddie Freddie- Bill Parker & His Showboat Band (Please) Send Back The Girl I Love- Charles Page Telephone Port Arthur- Cleveland Crochet Promise You Broke- Joe Bonsall You Wanta Do Me Wrong- Al Smith Hurricane Audry- Jo'El Sonnier The Girl In The Red Blue Jeans- Hopeless Homer Love Grown Cold- Bill & Carroll & The Neches Valley Boys Fine Fine Fine- Gene Terry Crying Crying- Sticks Herman A Fool's Tears- Claude Shermack Poddy Woo- Harlon Duhon & The Hackberry Ramblers California Blues- Robert Bertrand
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 hour 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.
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.
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.
