Upon Further Review : Gary Wilson : You Think You Really Know Me

The Pitch

It's no secret I love bizarre releases by idiosyncratic artists that quickly disappear into the ether. While this makes me a frequent and convenient target of ridicule for friends and fellow MOKB contributors, I figure it's better than obsessing over Hummel figurines or joining a softball league. My pursuit of these musical gems brings me into contact with all sorts of interesting music, but occasionally I discover a record that is so out-of-step with the prevailing musical styles of its time, that I find myself concerned with the mental health of the artist. Never has this been truer than in the case of Gary Wilson's You Think You Really Know Me.

You Think You Really Know Me wasn't even a blip on the radar upon its release in 1977, a year in which the airwaves were dominated by Mary MacGregor (Torn Between Two Lovers), The Emotions (Best Of My Love) and the top selling single of the year, Debby Boone's You Light Up My Life. Truth be told, even if Wilson had managed airplay, he had a better shot at Bellevue than Billboard. A disciple of both Dion and John Cage, Wilson began recording music in his parents' basement at the tender age of 12 and soon after released a single with his band, Lourde Fuzz. He relocated to NYC following high school, but quickly retreated home to his parents' basement to continuing his recording experiments while earning a little cash playing in local lounge acts. In 1976, he recorded a handful of songs at Bearsville Studios (which has hosted sessions for a virtual who's who of popular music from Bob Dylan to REM), before deciding to return to the familiar basement confines to complete the tracks that would become You Think You Really Know Me.

With an initial pressing limited to 600 copies, it would have been ludicrous to expect Gary Wilson to become a household name, but listening to this record, one immediately realizes that even a marketing blitzkrieg could not have saved You Think You Really Know Me from commercial oblivion. This record is truly not of its time. Thanks to his varied musical influences, it's all over the stylistic map. Early rock-n-roll-influenced bubblegum-pop about groovy girls and making out gives way to dissonant drones and expressions of sexual-social angst that would make Kurt Cobain blush. Instrumentation ranges from cheesy to unnerving, and Wilson himself casually veers from smarmy lounge singer (complete with porno keys) to starstruck teen to seething sociopath and back. You Think You Really Know Me is an incredible listen, and is in many ways light-years beyond the most influential records released that year, including debuts by The Clash, Television and The Talking Heads.

Wilson's performances (with his backing band, The Blind Dates) in support of the record were wildly theatrical, blurring the line between concert and performance art. Soon after, he moved to California in hopes of procuring a record deal, but following three singles and a brief 1981 U.S. tour, he seemingly fell off the face of the earth, which only served to bolster his legendary status among fans (including Beck and Matt Groening) and collectors, who paid outlandish sums of money for original pressings of You Think You Really Know Me. In 2002, (the now-defunct) Motel Records, hoping to re-release You Think You Really Know Me, located Wilson working at porn shop in Utah, paving the way for his triumphant, albeit small-scale, comeback.

The Product

Fade up from black 30 years later and it's Plexifilm to the rescue. For one low price, you get the You Think You Really Know Me album in all of its remastered glory, as well as the Michael Wolk-directed documentary, You Think You Really Know Me: The Gary Wilson Story. The record speaks for itself, but the film is equally fascinating as Wolk morphs into an amateur gumshoe to piece together the life of his enigmatic subject.

Do I Need It?

The documentary, in many ways, completes the Gary Wilson picture, providing context for the songs on You Think You Really Know Me. That being said, I would have preferred a more definitive re-issue of the record: essays by his famous fans, existing outtakes, singles that proceeded and followed, etc. That's probably nitpicking, though. This is one record you really need to hear to believe. And if you like what you hear, you're in luck. Come August, Human Ear Music will release a new Gary Wilson record, Lisa Wants To Talk To You.

Gary Wilson and The Blind Dates - 6.4 = Make Out

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