The enigmatic Gary Wilson emerged from New York’s DIY movement with 1977’s proto-New Wave masterpiece You Think You Really Know Me, an extraordinary record which has been known to suck unprepared new listeners in like a drug and never let go. Shortly after its limited release its creator simply vanished.
In the 25-year wake before he was found again, Gary’s small-town opus had spread by word-of-mouth and indie radio to inspire a whole new generation of musicians and producers with his bizarre songs and personal musical vision. His cult following includes (not only you and all your friends, but) Beck, who shouts him out in “Where It’s At (Two Turntables And A Microphone)”, The Roots’ ?uestlove, Simpsons creator Matt Groening, and of course, Stones Throw’s Peanut Butter Wolf (who championed his own Stones Throw release, the infectious spacial-funk that is Mary Had Brown Hair).
The re-release of You Think You Really Know Me in 2002 won him accolades in The New York Times and culminated in select sold-out shows in New York and Los Angeles. Gary Wilson has continued making music in the years following his “disappearance.” His music continues to chronicle his obsessions and angst that his followers would expect from him. His songs have been compared to everything from Prince to Talking Heads bursting with electro-funk, synth rock, lounge, soul, and avant-garde jazz.
A longtime in the making, the incredible documentary, You Think You Really Know Me: The Gary Wilson Story — the new DVD/CD released from Plexifilm in 2008 is well worth the wait and deserves shelf space next to your copies of The Last Waltz, The Devil and Daniel Johnston, and We Jam Econo. Gary’s most recent release, Lisa Wants To Talk To You is out now on Human Ear Music.
“Combining elements of pop, proto new wave, jazz, avant-garde composition and electronic music, Gary Wilson delivers sincere lyrics, alternately sweet and angst ridden, about the women in his life and his fantasies…” — NY Times
“…successfully jumped between new wave synth spasms, soundtrack jazz and skronk, James Brown pep, noise collage, pre-Prince strut, and the Jonathan Richman School of Painfully Geeky Lyricism…” — Pitchfork
“…smooth-yet-quirky ditties with vague tinges of Steely Dan jazziness and a hefty dose of obsessive-compulsive emotional damage…” — The Village Voice
