Willis Takes Audience on His Own ‘Freakout Hell Ride’

Has rock ‘n’ roll really come to this?

A curious cause celebre in today’s pop-music scene, former Chicago street performer Wesley Willis was reduced to a sad spectacle during a troubled and troubling hour Sunday night at the Lava Room.

Closer in spirit to a freak show than a rock concert, Willis constantly went off on uncontrolled rants, ranging from expletive-filled diatribes to repetitive monologues to indecipherable warnings about “treacherous freakout hell rides.”

None of this, however, seemed to concern the nearly 300 onlookers, some of whom watched curiously while others shamefully either laughed at or egged on this man, whose condition has been diagnosed as chronic schizophrenia. In fact, one fan was overheard telling another, “He’s an idiot, but he’s cool.”

When Willis finally got around to singing the evening’s 10 songs, he mostly shouted out the words from a sheet on a clipboard that he held close to his face. Simple-minded songs such as “Jesus Is the Answer” and “I’m Sorry That I Got Fat” were almost identical in structure, and all ended with him declaring “Rock over London, rock over Costa Mesa”--he mistakenly said “Costa Rica” twice--and a concluding commercial jingle, e.g., “Coca-Cola Classic--It’s the real thing.”

While some eccentric performers like Jonathan Richman possess an endearing humor or charm--or at their best, an insightful viewpoint--Willis instead mumbles and swears constantly, testing your patience with his formulaic sloganeering.

Combined with his rather cool detachment and delivery, there’s rarely an emotional or intellectual edge to his uninvolving presentation.

The only exception Sunday night was a slow, thoughtful number called “She Loves Me Truly,” where a shred of humanity tenderly but briefly emerged.

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On edge much of the night, the members of Willis’ hard-rockin’ backing band, Fiasco, stood by nervously in the wings, probably wondering how many times they’d have to start and stop a song. They were only marginally successful, and guitarist Dale Meiners had the added burden of acting as sort of a brother’s keeper in keeping Willis focused on singing.

Despite Willis’ lack of talent and history of mental problems, some argue that he is better off onstage than wandering the streets. Perhaps, but it wasn’t pretty witnessing a volatile man literally on display for the mild amusement of others.

And it’s no less frustrating when Rick Rubin’s American Recordings signs a novelty act like Willis to a multi-album deal while deserving local performers like Mark Davis, Jann Browne and the concert’s second-billed Ziggens remain without recording contracts.