Published on Jul 21, 1998
Bill Hicks was born and raised in Houston, graduating from the
same high school as me recently enough that we may have had some of
the same teachers, and I never knew this fact until last week. I
knew who Bill Hicks was, in passing, (no pun intended), through
obituraried when he died, and through various stand-up clips when,
during lonely late-night channel surfing of yore, I would come upon
the last refuge of lowbrow entertainment: Comedy Central. Some of
you may not know this, but long before the town of South Park,
Comedy Central, (once known as the Comedy Channel, once known as
Ha!), basically showed two minute stand-up routines with little
information sidebars, in following with music videos. Bill Hicks
was a staple of the network. That’s probably the only way you’d
know who Bill Hicks, perhaps the only truely controversial comedian
of the 90s, and perhaps the greatest.
My high school never made mention of his attendance, instead
dwelling on a certain young redneck B-list country star. But he was
amazing. Last Wednesday, in one of those late night conversations
with a girl that always seems to involve 5 packs of cigarettes and
a wet patio, his name came up. I had no idea anyone else knew who
he was, and I sure as hell never knew he went to my old school. I
was pissed at this fact, and scurried off the next day to pick up
Rant In E-Minor, his final CD.
A 74-minute, 36 track CD chronicling three shows during his last
week of performing in late 1993,
Rant is not a belt-busting, rolling in you seat,
laugh-a-minite riot, nor is it meant to be. Hicks walks onto the
stage before a feverent rant on ‘fevered egos’, announcing, “Well,
folks, this is kind of a sentimental evening for me, because this,”
he chokes up, “is my final live performance I’ll ever do, ever.”
This is a man that knows he is dying, and I can only guess now what
the audience thought he meant by that weighty remark.
Don’t take that as an indication that
Rant In E Minor is a somber affair. Hicks is as funny,
volatile, and insightful as ever, with a verbal pallete, and a
deeply human philosophy that makes Dennis Miller look like Carrot
Top. He tackles controversial issues without remorse, from
abortion, (“if they’re so pro-life, why don’t they picket
cemeteries”), to David Koresh, (“let’s see: a frustrated rock
musician, with a messianic complex, armed to the teeth, and ready
to f— anything that moves. I hate to tell you this, but that
sounds like every one of my friends in Austin.”).
One thing about this CD which may annoy those more accustomed to
conventional comedy records is that, in many respects, it is edited
like an Oliver Stone movie, drifting from monologue to rant to
flat-out “dick jokes” through segues of music, performed either by
Hicks himself, or local Austin band, Marblehead Johnson. I enjoyed
this, and recomend listening to the CD in a dark room, preferably
with a lit cigarette, even if you don’t smoke it, just for the
ambience.
If this CD had been made into a movie, it would defintely be
“NC-17”. Bill Hicks isn’t as directly profane as, say, Martin
Lawrence, or Andrew “Dice” Clay, but he does something a lot more
dangerous. He can’t be written off as just profane, just appealing
to lowest common denominator, or just anything. He’s just not that
easily definable. He gets under the skin by berrading the senses,
and making you question everything you believe in. He’s more than a
comedian. Bill Hicks is an artist.
Three months after the recording of this album, Bill Hicks died
of cancer at the age of 32. Although he really only gained
popularity in the last four years of his life, there’s a little
Bill Hicks in every comedian starting out today. Yet he was much
more than that.
This is years ahead on any comedy album I’ve ever heard. Perhaps
the greatest danger here is that it will show just how dated such
performers as Adam Sandler, and, God help me, Dennis Leary really
are. A simultaneous venture into both human comedy and inhuman
tragedy, with a one-liner surface that really hits much, much
deeper. You may not find yourself laughing at
Rant In E-Minor, but after all is said and done, you’ll feel
something deep inside you loving every minute of this album, under
the constant suspicion that your stereo is going to be struck by
lightning. No, you may not laugh, but you’re almost guaranteed to
be smiling throughout
Rant. It’s more than just another live comedy album, it’s a
man looking back on the world from a perspective that none of us
knows. This makes it a work of art.