WESLEY WILLIS
1963-2003

In 1996, I was introduced to the music of Wesley Willis through the Drew and Mike Show, which was Detroit's most popular morning radio show--and still is, even to this day. These guys were sort of like our own local version of the Stern show, several years before we were able to get Howard on the radio.

They had gotten a hold of one of Wesley's CDs, and had started playing a truly bizarre song on the show entitled "The Chicken Cow." My first thought upon hearing this song was "What the fuck is this???" The tune sounded like it was recorded with the use of a cheap Casio keyboard, with repetitive fills and Willis growling lyrics such as:

"This beast attacked my brother!
It stabbed him in the ass when he
Was out in the cold
His hands were frostbitten,
His hands were also numb."

... then Wesley would launch back into the chorus, which was nothing more than him singing "the chicken cow" over and over, his voice cracking as he attempted to hit the notes. The effect was both humorous and disturbing, which now that I think about it, are two words that sum up Wesley's career quite nicely. But at first, I didn't really know what to make of it. I assumed it was most likely a joke.

Not long after that, Drew and Mike did an interview with Wesley via telephone. This is where I learned that Willis wasn't a joke at all and, in fact, took his music very seriously. Hailing from the mean streets of Chicago, Willis was a large, robust black man who was living on the streets and peddling his artwork when he first began hearing voices in his head, which he referred to as "demons." Not long afterward, he was diagnosed as a chronic schizophrenic--an ailment which he made frequent references to in his music. Willis was known to start shouting at the voices in his head, often in public.

"Tim Simms got on my ass for freaking out
At Genesis on Western
I freaked out a lot of customers
I also said 'suck my dick' in front of
A lot of people."

-From Wesley's song "Outburst"

Wesley's appearance on Drew and Mike got me interested in hearing more of his music. I still wasn't convinced one way or another if this was a schtick, or if this guy was the real deal. After buying several CDs and seeing him on Howard's E! Show--which included a raucous live
performance of "Baba Booey", Wesley's ode to Gary Dell 'Abate--Willis made a believer out of me.

That winter, I attended a Wesley Willis show in Royal Oak, Michigan at a place called the C-Pop Gallery. It was a small place, and there couldn't have been more than 150 people in attendance. There wasn't even a stage, or a band--just a place at the back of the gallery where Wesley's keyboard and a small sound system was set up. Me and two friends of mine were able to just walk directly to the front and watch the show two feet away from the man himself. He was already seated at his keyboard, signing autographs and hawking his CDs for $10 apiece. ("You wanna buy a CD?" was his standard greeting to fans.) I remember I handed him a ten dollar bill for a CD, and received twenty dollars in change. Being the honest guy I am, I handed him another ten dollar bill so as not to rip him off. He didn't seem to even notice. Wesley was a great business man in many ways, but making change definitely wasn't his forte'.

The show itself lasted just over an hour, with Willis performing every song in his energetic, inimitable way. He got huge pops from the crowd when he performed "Howard Stern", but he didn't take any requests. I would have loved to hear some of my favorites, like "O.J. Simpson" "Kill Whitey" and "I Whupped Batman's Ass" but Wesley seemed to be in a world all his own. In between songs, he would engage the audience in off-beat banter, which more often than not made absolutely no sense.

"Yeah, I'm gonna rock Saddam Hussein's ass to Russia!
I'm gonna whip a cheetah's ass with a belt.
It's gonna be like Ringo Starr in a har-har!"

He seemed to get genuinely excited when people yelled the word "rock" at him. After all, Wesley considered himself a rock star who was playing his own unique brand of rock n' roll. At one point, I yelled "ROCK!" at Wesley--this excited him so much, I was told to "COME HEADBUTT ME, SO I CAN HOWL LIKE A WILD JACKASS!" It was a little intimidating to approach him--especially when he grabbed the back of my neck and butted his forehead several times against mine, growling and shaking his dreadlocks. But that was just Wesley's way of showing affection, and he was careful not to fuck me up. Believe me, he could have if he wanted to. Several days later, I was pleased to see that my headbutt from Wesley was mentioned in The Metro Times review of the show.

"O.J. Simpson is a no good jerk
He is a fucking asshole
He had no business killing his
Ex-wife Nicole, or her friend
Ronald Goldman

O.J. Simpson played on "The Naked Gun" And "Roots"
But as of now, he is a hardened criminal."

-From Wesley's song "O.J. Simpson"

Wesley DID perform an encore, but only because his manager insisted. Willis seemed oblivious to the fact that he had the crowd in the palm of his hands, and started taking down his mic stand immediately at the end of the set. I was standing close enough to hear the conversation between Wesley and his manager.

MANAGER: "Wesley, why don't you do a few more songs for the people?"

WESLEY: "But I just sang seventeen rock n' roll songs!"

Seconds later, he launched into another tune--despite the fact that his microphone was no longer in front of him. My friend Bryan took it upon himself to replace Wesley's mic stand back to its original position at the keyboard while Wesley was playing his song. Again, Willis didn't seem to notice. All the man cared about was his rock n' roll.

Meanwhile, his manager had gotten a glass of ice water for him--but the crowd around Wesley was too thick for her to get close enough to give it to him. "I'll take it," I said to her. "I'll make sure he gets it." She paused for a moment, then handed it over without a word. As soon as Willis was done playing, I handed him the ice water and said "Here ya go, Wesley." He downed it in one long drink, not even caring where it came from, or what was in it. I could have handed him a cup of warm goat piss and I'm pretty sure he would have drank it, anyway. Wesley didn't bother with details like that.

Now, almost seven years later, Wesley Willis is gone. I was shocked and saddened when I got the news from Dean's Planet. Forty is such an early age to go, especially for an artist as unique and prolific as Wesley. The man released fifty CDs in his short career, only five of which I own. But I'm glad I got to meet him and see him perform. It was an unforgettable experience, and my autographed CDs have now officially become keepsakes.

Goodbye, Wesley. You'll be missed. And I hope you find your eternal harmony joyride in heaven, where those demons will finally shut the hell up.

"Rock over London,
Rock on, Chicago!
Hardee's... we're out to win you over!"

-JTL

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