by Peter Holslin, Published on February 25, 2014 San Diego CityBeat

If you’ve ever harbored a hopeless crush, Gary Wilson can relate. In the 1970s, growing up in the small town of Endicott, N.Y., he was once obsessed with a beautiful schoolmate named Linda. Though they never officially went steady—her attention was focused on other boys—he’d often find himself strolling by her house late at night, overcome with desire.

“I wasn’t a stalker, but there was some anguish,” recalls the 60-year-old musician, who now lives alone—save for his dog, Shadow, and a caged finch named Little Bird—in a dusty, one-bedroom apartment in Hillcrest. “I was in love with her.”

All these years later, Wilson hasn’t forgotten about Linda. Nor has he forgotten about Karen, Lisa, Cindy, Sandy or Mary—nor any of the other girls to whom he regularly pays tribute in his lo-fi lounge tunes. Whether real or fictional, these ladies occupy a soft corner of Wilson’s heart.

For some guys—the awkward, sensitive, arty or weird—it’s easier to worship a girl than it is to talk to her. In his music, Wilson is just that kind of guy. Since his first major album, 1977′s You Think You Really Know Me, he’s plied the lonely avenues of romantic fantasy, exploring youthful heartache and desire with all the vigor of a veteran weirdo provocateur.

READ THE REST :: Gary Wilson: King of the Weirdos