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Rename That Tune; An Occasional Series

 

 

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.

Still, I do love the track. 

Songs Of The Week, 2026: 5/30-6/5

 

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

Enjoy 

BW's Saturday #83

 

"Dee Dee and I wrote the song 'Weasel Face' about a guy who had a real weasel face."

-Johnny Ramone

Goldband Records Vol. 2: THE WEEKEND MIX

 

You asked for it!

Well, some of you did.

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

HERE

 

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 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. 

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.