Gary Wilson - You Think You Really Know Me

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Music reviews of You Think You Really Know Me

Music Review: One Star...for the packaging...
Rating: 1 Stars

I was genuinely intrigued and scoured the music outlets for two weeks after the album's scheduled release date - from eclectic little record shops to Tower and Sam Goody superstores - hoping to hear a few songs at a listening station before shelling out any money for a possible ringer. The problem was no one carried it and, I realize now, that should have been the tipoff. But by the time I found it at Amazon I was so psyched I ordered it immediately, despite the fact that no 30-second sound clips were provided. Coincidence? Or another foreboding indication that something was amiss with this recording?

Shortly, I received a beautifully packaged CD that included a well-designed 24-page booklet complete with historic photographs of Mr. Wilson's zany stage shenanigans and ad-libbed buffoonery. One memorable set showed him screaming in a white suit splattered with either fake blood or the juicy red pulp of projectiles hurled by an angry audience. The booklet closes by saying, "This edition of 'You Think You Really Know Me' is not a reissue as much as it is a re-introduction to an artist who almost got lost in the shuffle. Hopefully, through our efforts, this collection of great songs will bring you one step closer to really knowing Gary Wilson."

My advice it to take one giant step back.

The combinations of musical styles lauded in Mr. Strauss' article simply did not materialize for me. I wasn't expecting Talking Heads, The Ramones or even the Sex Pistols, but after my initial disappointment, I was outraged and perturbed by the frenzied incoherence of a discordant hodgepodge of sound effects and instrumental confusion occasionally held together by a lazy and monotonous lounge-act piano-organ. To paraphrase an old joke: Look up the word "cacophony" in the dictionary and you will find the definition illlustrated with a picture of this album. The first half of a 3-minute song titled "Loneliness" is a series of whispered grunts and groans followed by what sounds like someone with a very healthy bladder urinating into a toilet. Wilson has no singing voice to speak of so lyrics like "What are you tryin' to do to me, put me on a sick trip or somethin'...? come off as pathetic and absurd. The lyrics, by the way, are not reproduced in the booklet. Coincidence...? Oh, never mind....

The only thing this CD has going for it is its brevity; the twelve songs run some 33 minutes, which is still about a half-hour too long. If you get suckered by the hype as I did, I urge you to make every effort to find a listening station before you buy. If what you hear rubs your Buddha then, by all means, indulge yourself.

Mr. Wilson disappeared for twenty-five years after the first release of this album and I have the feeling history is about to repeat itself.

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