Tag: Ry Lickliter

You’re Welcome America: A Final Night with George W. Bush ~ Ry Lickliter

Posted on by

Words by Ry Lickliter

The other night, while drinking pints of beer with my flatmates, something strange happened. It was one of those brief moments where you feel like you, for just a brief moment, you might being staring into the future. In this tiny little sliver of time you feel like the first person to see an automobile or watched Neil Armstrong set man’s first steps on the surface of the moon or the first time someone saw a non-rotary phone. It’s a strange moment where you don’t completely comprehend what it is you are seeing but you are awestruck none the less and you know that one of two things will happen. Either you are witnessing of the changing of an age that might not start tomorrow… It might not start in your life time… But you know, deep down in your soul of souls, that the world has evolved.

Or you are completely wrong.

It’s one of the two. There is a 50/50 chance and I am leaning towards the prior when it comes to my feelings on Will Ferrell’s & HBO’s presentation You’re Welcome America: A Final Night with George W. Bush. The shear energy that it must take to not only preform on Broadway for nearly 2 hours is nothing compared to the strain of the facial muscles that Ferrell endured squishing his face into that little fist of smirks and puzzlement that is Bush’s mug. It was obvious after watching You’re Welcome America that Ferrell’s study of Bush’s mannerisms and subtle characteristics stretched well beyond the birth of this character during his Saturday Night Live days.

Strutting across the stage in pure Texan fashion, Ferrell’s George Walker Bush seemed to come almost like second nature. If it weren’t for Ferrell’s 6’3” stature and grasp of basic spoken English, one could have easily been mistaken at first glance. Sprinkled with both hysterical laughter and a few of the single most awkward silences I have ever witnessed. It was in these small, strange pauses that I had what I believe is my glimpse of the future. The future of comedy.

Falling back on a few old chestnuts here & there and breaking character for a few moments just to jump into the small bouts of rage that are sure to get a chuckle every time, Ferrell pushed not only the limits of political mockery but the understanding of his viewing audience. There are quite literally moments that are painfully off putting and strange. There are sections where you can physically feel the audience’s confusion and feel for them in limbo as they sit not knowing if they should actually laugh or not.

There is a moment, a looooooong moment, where you can almost see the tension. The monolog being delivered is quite possibly the single most honest and realistic speeches I have ever had the privilege of witnessing. So, in fact, that it was nearly unbearable. The pauses Ferrell would take while gazing over the audience seemed to last lifetimes… It won’t be until James Lipton interviews Ferrell in the distant future that we will learn that the reactions received where exactly what he intended to get. However, this interview may never happen as Ferrell will probably show up dressed as James Lipton and cause a riff in the fabric of time & space resulting in the end of all life on Earth. (This too will be due to Ferrell’s advancement.)

Granted, one could easily just say, ‘You are just over analyzing this bit of stand up and giving Ferrell way too much credit.’ You could say that. It’s a free country. But you would be wrong. Ferrell’s place as a modern comedic genius is a position that very few people will debate. (Besides, if Val Kilmer says it, it must be true.) What I believe what one might mistake (and many will) to be a failure to deliver the funny will actually be some comedic avenue that is just advanced enough to be missed by the average audience.

Just like the creation of Devo or Crystal Clear Pepsi, You’re Welcome America will, more likely than not, be judged in a manner that won’t give it it’s proper dues. The reason for this being that we, you and I, are not ready for it yet. Perhaps our kids will be. Perhaps their children. Perhaps I’m wrong.

It might just suck.

You be the judge.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Visiting Nick Drake by Ry Lickliter

Posted on by
Visiting Nick Drake
View Photo Album
Words By Ry Lickliter
There are certain moments in everyone’s musical lives when they hear something which they know, almost instantly, that this certain band or an album or this one particular track, will stick with them for the rest of their days as something truly amazing. Thus was the case of my college roommate bringing home Pink Moon by Nick Drake from a summer vacation.

I need to preface this by explaining that I had the great fortune of coming to age in a very interesting time. You see, Napster had just surfaced a year or so prior so the MP3 revolution was a luxury of those who actually had access to the internet, something I did not until dorm life. What this meant was that if one was to be exposed to new musical experiences, that exposure would have to come from someone you already knew owning the music before hand.

This of course made things difficult as a high school student as the people you hung out with, more likely than not, listened to the exact same music you did. Such things define most of any high schooler’s existence and thusly is why one’s freshman year of college would be one of, if not the, best musical years of their lives. The relationship that I have with Nick’s music was forged in this exact same proverbial fire.While researching all available information on his life I found that Nick’s final resting place was in the small village of Tansworth-in-Arden, deep in the English countryside. Nearly ten years later, I had the fortune to be able to visit Nick and spend a day walking the streets where he spent his last days writing what is arguably one of the greatest full albums of all time.

Leaving on the William Shakespeare Express from Birmingham towards Stratford-in-Avon early on fairly typical grey Monday. As I sat and watched the city melt into suburbs and then fade away completely to reveal the rolling fields of the English countryside. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and squinting into the morning light I sat, rocking back and forth with the motion of my cab keeping my attention focused on not missing the Danzy Green stop which I had to special request upon boarding the train.

Upon my arrival to this remote stop, while letting the warmth of the spring sun fall on my back, I put on Bryter Layter and set out to find this small village tucked away from the world and its worries in sea of green pastures. Passing only a few cars, a couple out for a morning bike ride and smiling as I accepted the various encouraging remarks made by the over abundance of sheep, I found my steps go from an excited & hurried pace to a much slower & appreciative stroll. Taking in all the beauty of both my surroundings and soothing tone of Nick’s voice, I felt the romance of this tiny hidden corner of the British Isles sweep over me.
Coming over one of the small hills I noticed the steeple of the Tansworth church peeking threw the tops of the trees just as the final chords of ‘At the Chime of a City Clock’ rang out their final voice. The church itself marks one of the three sides of this tiny village center, bordered on both sides by a small store and a row of cozy little homes, all of which seemed completely void of life. It quite literally felt like I was the only person for miles. I made my way to the back of the church to the small graveyard that is situated at the top of a hill facing the pastures & fields that make up roughly 90% of this area. Passing grave markers that had become illegible with the passing of time, I found the small, simple stone at the base of a large tree in cemetery’s heart. Written upon the back of the stone were the words, ‘Now we rise and we are everywhere,’ lyrics from ‘From the Morning’ off of Nick’s Pink Moon album. The grave was holding fresh flowers and a small pot entirely empty except for one note another visiter had left that over time had become as worn as the surrounding headstones.
I sat, taking in Nick’s words when I was greeted with a warm smile from the grounds keeper and his old dog who came over to investigate the situation and ended up enjoying some serious ear scratching before trotting back to supervise the elderly man’s weeding. I took out a couple of the cameras I brought to document the trip and made my way down the street from the church to Nick’s brownstone home at the end of Bates Lane. I was greeted by yet another elderly man and his canine companion who said with a huge smile that he was certain he knew why I was there. I asked him if there were many people who actually ventured to his small village to pay their respects to the Drake family, he answered, ‘Not a lot, but we can pick you all out when you arrive.’ We talked cameras for a while and as he walked me down to show me which home was Nick’s, he said he was going to go home and dig out his TRL camera and try to get some use out of it. We shook hands and parted ways after I gave his muddy Golden a little love.
I decide to make my way back to the graveyard, listen to Pink Moon in its entirety and watch the clouds roll by. Taking in all the magic of both Nick’s words and this special little patch of Earth makes my heart swell and I struggle to wrap my head around why one who lived in such a truly amazing place could find himself so terribly sad. As the last few notes of From the Morning fade out of my headphones, I sigh, stand and say good bye to Nick & Tansworth before setting out for my hike back to Danzy Green. Without a doubt, this was one of the single most magical experiences of my life.
Pictures, Videos, and Writing by Ry Lickliter

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail