A 300-plus-pound black man grasped the back of a young girl's neck, holding her face an inch-and-a-half from his own.
"Say Rock," he ordered in a slurred growl.
"Rock."
"Say Roll," he said.
"Roll."
The man pulled her forehead closer to his, and the girl's eyes widened as he softly knocked his skull into hers again and again, and roared a deep laugh from his enormous belly.
Wesley Willis, musician, artist and schizophrenic, greeted fans before his sold out musical performance at Harriman Hall Wednesday March 13 with his signature head butts and non-sequitor conversation.
Diagnosed as a schizophrenic in 1989, he writes and sings to quiet the "demons" in his head, said Willis, a native of Chicago. A large black callous protrudes from his forehead like a third eye.
"Music makes me have a joy ride," Willis said. "That's why I play my music and have fun."
Willis said the demons he hears take him "on a profanity hell ride ... that's why I throw fits and hit myself in the head."
His weapon in his war against the demons is the act of creation. Whether it is pen and ink drawings or playing songs on his keyboard, Willis is driven to create. He has produced over 45 independent albums, which he said take between one and six hours to complete.
The crowd at Harriman Hall received him warmly as 300 students cheered him on and chanted along with his tunes.
Some critics, however, question whether Willis' songs, with their murmured lyrics and off-key bellowed choruses, their pre-recorded keyboard beats, and their simple, predictable and repetitive nature, can be classified as art.
In anticipation of one of Willis' more popular tunes, "Cut the Mullet," the audience erupted into applause.
Willis' raspy, deep voice slurred the lyrics. "The mullet is the reason why people hate you. They are sick of looking at your nappy weed-sack. Nobody wants to look at you with that mullet on your head. Why don't you cut that mullet, you numbskull."
Willis plunked the keyboard with his middle finger, playing random notes on top of intense prerecorded rock song, seemingly apathetic to the audience that stretched before him.
During a pause between songs, a member of the crowd yelled, "You f-ing rule!"
Willis slowly responded, "I sure do."
It's his simple honesty, and childlike innocence that keep true fans intrigued with the savant.
His manager, legal guardian and caretaker, Talmadge Cook, admires Willis' ability to tell it like it is. Willis speaks his mind at any moment, Cook said.
"He's more honest than about 99 percent of the people I know," Cook said.
And while Willis seems to exist on a different plane than most people, specifically his fan base, a mix of curiosity, sympathy and genuine enjoyment draws crowds in a cult following across the country to see this entertainer.
Nicholas Mendola, a sophomore English education major and lead singer for Clearmotive, who opened Wednesday night's show, said it was a pleasure to open for Willis, arguably the biggest act they have played with.
"It's been a harmony joy bus ride, as Wesley would say," Mendola said.
Stafford Ritchie, an electrical engineering student, enjoyed his first Willis experience.
"This show rocked," Ritchie said, "I don't understand it at all, but it's oddly fascinating."
Willis promised yet another album in the near future that he said would be called "New York Rock City," and is "going to rock a lot."
"This was the best $6 I ever spent," said Robert Haefner, a Canisius College student.
