Them were the days: you get the right fantasy, you could live it. I know it was a common fever — a few of us Missoula folks were crazy to spin the platters for the party that would rip a hole into the spirit realm. Sometimes it almost happened. And yeah, I introduced “Soul Makossa” and it got me gigs at the turntable. I wanted to push Dr. Buzzard hard, too — but nah, even the party people in Cowboy World thought disco suxed. Time to move on. But the minute I read about Mr. Mancuso I knew he was the music chef who cooked the masterpieces. Or provided a stage for other magicians to work their tricky beats.