RIP Mr. Willis.

Damn, I miss Wesley Willis. A friend of mine turned me on to him about 10 years ago, and at first we just giggled with sort of a can't-look-away-from-the-trainwreck feeling, but after a while his songs really do grow on you.

My favorites are the ones that are concert reviews (i.e. any of the ones with band names for titles) where he praises said band's rocking power with statements like, "they whipped a donkey's ass," and also provides estimates of the crowd size, like "there were about 250 people there." Wish I'd gotten the chance to see him live before he passed away.

Rock over London, rock on Chicago!

I love Wesley Willis. Right there is a man who didn't just straddle the line between genius and insanity, but snorted it, wrote a song about it, and drew the album cover with colored ball point pens.

Favorite moment: the video for his song "Alanis Morrissette", starring Alanis fucking Morrissette. Then headbutting her!

In 2003, I was playing music semi-professionally, and once had the unique experience of opening for one Mr. Wesley Willis in St. Louis, Missouri at a now defunct punk bar called the 'Creepy Crawl.'

I had first heard Wesley's 'Greatest Hits' in 1997, and have considered myself a fan ever since, Rock n Roll McDonalds was the first of his many beautiful epics that my ears fell on, and needless to say, I've been amazed by him ever since.

Pre-show, say 7PM, I'm stringing guitars, and Wesley Willis walks straight up to me, wearing sweatpants and a t -shirt, and over the house music shouts, "BRAGETY LABBA GLAB BLAT", to which I reply, "I'm sorry Wesley, what was that?"

../Important to mention, if you're unfamiliar, Wesley Willis was a gargantuan black male 6 foot 5 inches, 3 hundred and fifyt pound schizophrenic homeless man from Chicago... at least that's what the press release said.

So Wesley repeats to me, " GIBBLETY GARBFARRCA BLAKUM BLAK", and I put my hand to my ear, and apologize, pointing up at the house speakers, and Wesley rolls his eyes, leans in and says "I HAVE TO TAKE A SHIT!"
"Oh, the men's is over here", I've set down the guitar and start walking toward the men's room, when Wesley stops me again to ask "IS THERE TOILET PAPER IN THE WASH ROOM?" I check, assure him that he's covered, and he lumbers on in.

About this time, the doors are opening, and a gaggle of teenage boys come in bumrushing the stage area, but one heads straight for the bathroom.

For the record, it was not cool to take a shit at the creepy crawl, as there is basically one room with a urinal, a toilet, and a sink with no water. The bartender would recommend hoofing it 2 blocks and using the Days Inn public restroom, if nature is really calling....and so when the teenage boy walks in to use the urinal and sees Wesley, drop trow size XXXL green sweatpants around his ankles, he comes running back to the herd.

Several minutes later, Wesley comes lumbering back toward the stage area, and he's wiggling the digits of his right hand, when one of the little teeny-boppers pipes up "HEY Wesley, can I get a head butt?" To which Wesley lumbers right up and puts his now clearly sticky hand on the kid's forehead before running his hand past the kid's ear and onto the back of his head to apply the aforementioned head butt.

The kid was thrilled, no idea that the large man's sticky was adorning his forehead.