Bill Hicks performing in London in 1991, as seen on the video recording Bill Hicks Live.

This Is Just a Ride by NICK MEADOR

The wisdom of late comedian and satirist Bill Hicks (1961-1994) is experiencing a massive resurgence and serving as a philosophical jumping point for many teenagers and young adults.

Something is compelling me to write about Bill Hicks, and yet something about the task seems extremely difficult. I tried once already, got to about 1,000 words, and then totally stopped writing. Perhaps I feel that I haven't sufficiently studied the late comedian and his live recordings. Or it could be that, no matter how many times I listen to or watch his stage performances, the greater meaning of his presence on earth is still elusive. But I know deep within me that the world would be better off if he was still alive today. I know this because the world is better off since he lived at all.

This is not intended to be a history of the great controversial comedian, or even a comprehensive summary of the effects that Bill Hicks had on the world during his life. I was only 11 years old when he died on February 26, 1994, so there is no way that I could pretend to have a first hand experience of what he meant at that time. On the other hand, my goal is to examine what Hicks means to us today. What he can teach us 14 years after his death? What were his greatest strengths, and what were the weaknesses that held him back? I suppose his first weakness was being human; he died of pancreatic cancer just as his fame was reaching an international scope.

From a certain perspective, Hicks has become the Tupac Shakur of comedy. While only two albums were released before 1994, six albums and two compilations have been issued under his name since then -- not to mention the numerous bootlegs available on the Internet. All are worth hearing, despite the inevitable repetition across many of the recordings (I would imagine that a comedian operates somewhat like a musician when choosing his or her arsenal on tour, employing a variety of "tracks" with a certain amount of improvisation). I didn't hear most of these recordings until 2008, because -- for some strange reason -- Hicks escaped my conscious memory for the past ten years.

I became acquainted with Bill Hicks the same way as most people who were born after the '70s; his face and a brief requiem that read "another dead hero" were embedded in the album artwork for Tool's 1996 masterpiece Aenima. The cover plastic was the type that, when tilted back and forth, would make the specially designed images behind it appear to move. I tilted the plastic, and, depending on the page I had inserted, a dozen alien eyes winked at me, or a naked man with his head between his legs performed self-fellatio. On yet another page, a large chunk of southern California broke free from mainland America, and parts sank into the Pacific Ocean. I would not learn for another 12 years that this was Hicks' vision, as immortalized on his album Arizona Bay, a combination of live comedy and original music not released until 1997.

After referencing Timothy Leary's concept of futants (i.e. -- those who are genetically inclined to facilitate the progress of mankind), Aenima's liner notes read:

Tool's members had Hicks to thank for some of those ideas. I would also come to learn that he had an enormous influence on other musicians, especially edgy alternative and metal bands who dominated the 1990s, like Rage Against The Machine and Radiohead. In fact, clips from Hicks' live performances even appeared on Aenima. Throughout my transition to adulthood, I've never forgotten the words he spoke at the beginning of "Third Eye," the fifteenth track of the album.

I was a sheltered prude, but I understood what he was saying. However, the combination of his powerful message and Tool's foreboding music were, to a suburban 14-year-old, more terrifying than enlightening. I had a gut feeling that these people were the ones who would lead me through the frustration and alienation of high school. I knew I was on the right path, but I had no clue where it led.

The next Hicks clip in "Third Eye" turned out to be his most famous quote. In that sound bit, he suggests the type of story he'd like to see, if only once, on the evening news.

For all of his yelling and abrasion and pessimism, this remains the core of all that Hicks stood for.

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