4. Bill HicksRant In E Minor
Bick Hicks is that typical example of someone who was not successful in his own lifetime, a horrible, clichéd travesty: died too young, died at the age of 32 of pancreatic cancer. And this album is one of the last recordings of him. And you can just hear the bile, the rage that’s searing through his system. Oh, my God! It’s no holds barred, like this last, righteous screaming before he goes. He so does not care what anyone thinks. He never cared what anyone thought. It’s all coming out. This is the last hurrah, the Gunfight At The O.K. Corral. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done.” He’d come out dressed as a gunfighter in a long black coat, and I always feel like that when I go on stage and approach audiences. It’s like a battle in a way, you know? You’re going out there, guns a-blazing. I have a picture of him in my studio above my piano.
And again, it’s a bit like the soundtracks we were talking about: there’s also little snippets of his guitar music that are like little lullabies. It’s really odd. It’s this weird dichotomy of nice little guitar-y, loopy instrumental music with these just screaming diatribes of righteousness and anger.
