I picked up a turntable for my sister a couple of months ago. She had found what she said was about twenty of her old albums (it was more like a hundred and fifty) and had the urge to once again hear them. Mostly they were albums I remember her liking— Percy Faith, Rod McKuen, Enoch Light and the like. She drove me nuts with those albums when we were kids but I secretly liked a lot of them. (I did truly hate the Sound of Music, Colleen, but the others were okay).
I remember it like it was yesterday, hearing that John Stewart had left us. My heart sank and all that was good seemed to disappear. John and I had been acquaintances, of a sort. We had met when a salesman working for a distributor handling Stewart’s own label, Neon Dreams, brought him into the dungeon at Peaches Records in Seattle for a visit. We were introduced and I liked him from the first handshake. I at first felt intimidated, of course. How could you not be when you considered his background— the Kingston Trio albums and before that, The Cumberland Three, and after that, the incredibly huge string of solo albums.
Nick Holmes is a friend of mine. I have never met him nor have I even talked with him on the phone but he is a friend, nonetheless. He sends me stuff. Anyone who sends me stuff is my friend. Send me some stuff and you’ll find out. It seems like only yesterday (it was over two years ago) that he sent me CD copies of two albums I, up to that time, never even knew existed: And it seems like just yesterday (because it was) that I received his brand spanking new CD, Sonar. There is a story behind Nick and his music and I hesitate to tell that story here because I have told it a few times and hate to repeat myself too much, but if you want to read a fascinating story about his early years in New York and how we became acquainted, follow this link.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 