Shit! Christ! This is the problem with using the internet when you have so much to get done.  This is can be an even bigger issue when you need to use the internet to finish what you needed to get done.  SXSW is coming.  Sasquatch! is coming.  I have a record review piling up on my plate.  I have 2 more show reviews… some networking….I need to edit another article… I need to do a lot of shit.  Fuck, I need to get a real job!  Then I come across something else and it catches my attention.  Maybe it’s some  crazy story about a 7 yr old that steals the family car.  Maybe it’s some ridiculous right wing propaganda, insisting that a imprisoned sea mammal get stoned to death (like it says to do in the bible).  Maybe it’s a trailer about a futuristic martial artist/lady of the night/cyborg.  Whatever it is, it threatens to stall me out every time.  “Post this now!  Fuck what you’re doing.“  These things scream at me, but I can usually blow them off.  “This is and/or will be posted to death anyway.“  I tell myself.  Or, perhaps, I just throw it on the “I’ll get to that later” pile.  Sometimes it doesn’t matter.  Sometimes, I have to stop what I’m doing immediately and enjoy something with the rest of the world.  “Then sometimes, just sometimes, the Crow can bring the soul back and put the wrong things right “- [I couldn't help myself].  Sometimes, it’s just a music video. (more…)

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This month has proven to be a particularly great one for me as a Wesley Willis fan.  Not only was I offered an original piece of art by the late, great artist/musician, but I was also mailed a copy of an amazing documentary about Willis for review.

I first discovered Wesley‘s work when I was in high school and I was immediately drawn to it (pun intended).  Clearly the man had some obvious points of comic appeal, such as extreme moments of profanity and graphic references to bestiality, but there was definitely something deeper to him, even if it wasn’t always easy to determine exactly what it was.  The documentary Wesley Willis’s Joy Rides has successfully managed to capture and express those difficult to verbalize qualities, which made Wesley such a remarkable and inspiring individual.  One quote from the film, which most aptly sums up this phenomenon, was made by Willis‘ friend/art patron, John Stulgate, who said,  “You could see people’s hearts through their interactions with Wesley Willis.”

Although I had been a long time fan, I didn’t get a chance to see Wesley live until 2002.  The show took place in Seattle at The Graceland (now, El Corazon) and Grand Buffet was opening.  I’ll never forget walking from the bar through the doorway into the venue.  I saw Wesley immediately; he was staring frighteningly out of the corner of his eye and in my direction from behind the merch table.  Due to his immense size and weight, Wesley could be a daunting figure and his breaths were loud and heavy like a tranqued hippo.  I, eventually, made my way over to the table to say hello.  I had brought a sniper deployment manual and a 25¢ hardcover book about rottweilers for him to sign, in lieu of my Book of Mormon and 100 Deadliest Karate Moves books, which I had temporarily left in California.  He signed the sniper book but, once he got the rottweiler book in his hands, he was mesmerized.  “Can I keep this book“, he asked.  “Sure“.  After that, it was like I wasn’t even there, so I slipped away as he focused intently on pictures of similar looking dogs.  When the show ended, Wesley headed back behind the table to flip his wares.  I bought a live EP and asked him if he liked the book.  “I got that right back here!” he said.  Then he added, “I wrote a song called ‘Suck a Rottweiler’s Ass‘.  I’m gonna write a song called ‘Suck a Rottweilers Dick‘!“  So I told him, “You need to write a song called ‘Suck the Stripes off a Zebra’s Dick‘.” (more…)

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Either you know who Wesley Willis was, or you don’t. Maybe one of your friends told you about him, describing him as a “street-musician,” “schizophrenic,” or perhaps they even attempted to convey some sort of sample lyric from one of his songs. But you can’t know who Welsey Willis is until you have heard one of his songs and, after that, the name tends to stick.

I first heard about Wesley through my friend Aaron. He told me a story about some friends of his who had given Wesley a ride from a music festival in Minnesota back to his home town of Chicago. What I gathered from his story was that Wesley Willis was a 300+ lb. schizophrenic homeless man from Chicago who writes songs with amusing titles and lyrics (i.e. – “Suck A Cheetah’s Dick”).  I was intrigued, but the force of Willis’ impact did not reach full until I was actually played a few songs. “Chronic Schizophrenia”, “Rock & Roll McDonalds”, and “Outburst” all sounded the same, covered similar themes, and typified Willis’ stream-of-consciousness-rambling-verse followed by chanting-repetitive-chorus  followed back into, stream-of-consciousness-rambling-verse style. I was immediately smitten.  As were a number of us.

Sure, the irony might be lost on the numbest American drones, but those assholes don’t read MosterFresh.com (unless they’re visiting to read about Sarah Larson, George Clooney’s latest girl-toy). But the irony that has become a religion for my generation, as well as next week’s, is embodied in Willis’ music. (more…)

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