"This is the Concert for Dogs."

So began a set contribution to Arts First this afternoon from Charles F. Gillespie '10. Clad in a breezy plaid shirt with red suspenders, 'Chas' played the keyboard and alternated between tooting on a harmonica or belting out puzzling lyrics, never once giving his poor diaphragm a break.

"Listen close, you might learn something or not," Gillespie said, before singing his opening "love" song, which involved something about an "X-rated picture."

The bearded crooner favored lyrics that—how shall we say it—evoked images of another world, perhaps one where the sober weight of existentialism meets the dainty lift of nonsensical observations.

• "I wanted to learn about hams and their hamburgers."
• "Based on your references and accomplishments, I cannot understand why you applied to be Secretary of War."
• "Street vendor of gobble heads..."
• "Your uncle called, he's looking for his telephone."
• "I can't feel my elbow skin."
• "There aren't enough rumors about your daughter."

"All my songs are dance songs, and you can dance to them like this," the wiry cross-country runner said, jabbing his arms into the air as he jiggled his fingers and awkwardly shifted in his seat. "We love you, Chas!" one fan yelled from the sides (without doing the dance, but that's a small matter).

No dogs were in attendance.

Photo Credit: Esther I. Yi/The Crimson