FIFTEEN TOP 40 hits, five Grammys, 11 gold records and ...

The couch-laden performance area in the back could hold about 100, and Thomas is easily the biggest recording star to ever play the room. This is further impressed when co-owner Jim Svetz invites me to join the journalists interviewing Thomas at his makeshift dressing room over at sister bar Martini Red.

There are two reporters talking to Thomas. One of them is a young guy from the Staten Island Advance, and his knowledge of Thomas consists of whatever bio came up via Google. The other is an older guy who's both intense and mild. I join in as this guy is gushing about how Thomas is a personal favorite of his. He loves all of Thomas' big hits like "Hooked on a Feeling" and "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head," and wants the singer to know that Thomas' songs are fixtures on a New York oldies station. The interviewer grandly announces, "You're not forgotten."

Yeah, that's what a pop legend wants to hear before playing a Staten Island coffee shop on his 61st birthday.

I usually hate sitting with hackety-hacks who get to take advantage of my really insightful questions. But I'm not really here to interview Thomas?and my presence is needed. Thomas is discussing his current work, and mentions that he's in the studio with Chips Moman. No reaction from Staten Island's finest, but people who like music that's not forgotten know that Moman is a true musical genius.

So I take the opportunity to note that Thomas has worked with plenty of important musical figures. Thomas is happy to go on about that, and the guy from the Advance seems relieved to have some new material. He starts scribbling away in shorthand.

Personally, I'm impressed at how good Thomas looks at his age. And he doesn't seem to be a miserable bastard. I saw Thomas perform in the 80s, and the guy matched Gary Puckett in being a bitter old man angry with his aging audience. Puckett hasn't changed. Thomas, however, seems to be happy. That's a straight Coke he's drinking, and I mention that he seems like a different man nowadays.

"Yeah," he drawls, "I know I'm a different person. I care about the music much more than I did then. I try a lot harder now."

See, there's an inspiring angle for the Advance.

It's not all sunshine for Thomas, though. The guy from the Advance gamely brings up that one of the singer's next projects is a live album. He doesn't know that guys like Thomas have to record live albums. They don't see much income from their original recordings. Thomas' back catalogue is one of the most neglected in the industry. I bring this up, and he's happy to bitch about how straight reissues have been neglected in favor of shoddy greatest hits packages.

Then I bring up a coming Australian retrospective of obscure Burt Bacharach covers, thinking that Thomas will be happy to know that some of his lost work has been compiled alongside Mavis Staples, The Walker Brothers, Marty Robbins, and?.um, Sylvester. Thomas uses that as an excuse to complain about missing royalties.

Anyway, Thomas puts on an amazing show. He's a true pro, and refuses to take off his suit despite the hot stage lights. Thomas also provides a great religious rant that's equal parts deranged and insightful. But he's sober now, so the crowd's charmed. He's got a great band, too, with guitarist Tom Wild expertly duplicating classic chords by the likes of Duane Eddy.

Incidentally, the mildly intense guy?probably impressed by my well of Thomas knowledge?later asks for my business card. I ask what paper he's with. "Maximum Realty," he responds. Hopefully, he lied and told Thomas that he was with the Thrifty Nickel.

[jrt@nypress.com](mailto:jrt@nypress.com)