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'Electric Endicott,' Gary Wilson

The underground king of avant-garde's heyday may have passed.


Gary Wilson
  • Gary Wilson

Somewhere, Linda, Karen, Mary and Lisa are wishing they never met Gary Wilson. The unbelievably strange cult singer is haunted by the same girl-ghosts on Electric Endicott that have stalked his psyche and dominated his songwriting over his past three records. Wilson is still obsessed with those ex-girlfriends. But on Electric Endicott, the freakish experimentation and stalker-talk that hooked avant-garde fans in the past is lost between plinking keyboard lines and tinny drum machines.

Granted, this album is still slightly left of normal. Wilson, like always, cowers at the mic: no bravado, no machismo and no confidence in his vocals. But where in the past his stories of watching girls from the shadows commingled with bizarre, psychedelic electronics, Electric Endicott does away with the musical weirdness. And without that, you just have a hotel lounge album made by a 50-something guy who talks constantly about old girlfriends. That’s not visionary - it’s just creepy.

DOWNLOAD: “Kathy Kissed Me Last Night”




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