I’m very sad.
I met the man once. He was more crazy than one could possibly fathom from listening to his songs.
RIP, WW.
I went to see him at a tiny little club in Detroit. The first thing he did was to pull off his t-shirt, which was not the prettiest sight in the world.
He did about fifteen songs over a forty-minute set. As Wes might have put it:
The crowd roared like a lion
Many people met the band
The jam session was awesome
It really whipped the racehorse’s ass
He had the biggest smile on his face the whole time. Well, except when the crowd chanted for “Chicken Cow”. He proclaimed that song to be “played out.”
Which club in Detroit? The State theater, St Andrews? Something smaller?
I believes it was the Magic Stick.
Badass. I’ve yet to make it over there, but it’s on my list, along with the Magic Bag.
It’s a shame, really. Crazy yet talented individual. Well, talented maybe isn’t the right word. But yeah, shame.
Tell me about it, I was heartbroken.