The closest Gary Wilson has come to getting over the radar was a shout-out on Beck’s 1996 hit, Where It’s At. No one knew what the hell he was talking about, but the curious dug around to find a 1977 new wave sci-fi lounge album, You Think You Really Know Me, recorded by a man who we had no hope of understanding.
A bit like a sexed-up Daniel Johnston doing a Prince turn in some Star Light Zone café, Gary Wilson records jerky whiteboy funk-ups and histrionic ballads that are alternately hilarious and terrifying – the moreso if you think: he really means this? One minute Wilson’s dropping some Paradise Garage grooves on Soul Travel, later telling us how he hates the disco scene. It’s So Sad To Be Alone shifts the histrionics into overdrive as Wilson sounds like he’s reciting torn-out diary pages, before giving his Chrome Lover a piece of advice: buy a new pair of platforms and drop dead.
Alternately in need of love, yet belting out declarations that we’re not sure even the most delusional stalker would make, this reissue of late 70s single and EP cuts – limited to 1,000 copies and with a much better sleeve than its 2003 incarnation – are twisted paeans to (re-?) imagined girlfriends. Getting increasingly unhinged across these 14 tracks, Wilson masters the sinister mood shift, dropping synthy atmospherics and skronky avant-garde sax into his wooings. “You are my girlfriend. That entitles me to one kiss,” he whispers with intense repetition on the closing You Took Me On A Walk Into My Mirror. A spooky reflection, for sure.
