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I just need him to sleepover at my house and stay up all night with me playing video games and then let me do our matching juggalo makeup while we listen to icp
#I just want to be with a boy who is down with the clown#insane clown posse#down with the clown#i want him#toothpick ❤️#I want him to be the shaggy 2 dope to my violent j#I know you know who I’m talking about#Spam posting about my pookie#mentally we’re married irl he doesn’t even know i exist#Should I ask him out?
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So I Listened to the First Five Insane Clown Posse Albums...
And I really enjoyed myself! I tried this post already, but the Tumblr app is a piece of garbage and lost it somehow, so here goes again. To make a long story short, even though I didn't really enjoy the first two albums, Carnival of Carnage and The Ringmaster, I found a lot to enjoy about Insane Clown Posse, and can safely say I like them. Death metal guitar mixed with heavy bass, carnival sounds, and lyrics about necromantic clown sorcerers, killer toys, and cartoonish depictions of murder make their concept albums something that is both novel and undeniably cool when it isn't too crude or juvenile, which is more frequent than I would like.
I should probably state, especially considering I'm writing off the first two albums, that I am not the target audience for ICP. I do not consider myself a Juggalo in any definition of the word; I don't really listen to rap, and couldn't define hip-hop without looking it up. I do however enjoy horror movies and low-brow entertainment like comic books, and consider Marilyn Manson to be one of my personal heroes, so believe me when I say that I really do like aspects of the cavalcade of crazy that is the Insane Clown Posse.
Riddle Box is awesome, and I find myself wondering if this is the album where people feel like ICP came into their own. Part of their mythology is that if the Dark Carnival, where sinners are judged by a cavalcade of characters before being killed and sent to their souls ultimate destination. Several albums are designated as Joker's Cards, and depict characters and elements of the Carnival.
The intro is awesome, introducing the Riddle Box, which is a magic box that either gives the slain a vision of God, warming their souls and sending them to Heaven, or a demonic fog that drives them insane and sends them to Hell.
One of my favorite songs, "Chicken Huntin' (Slaughter House Mix)" is on this song, and demonstrates ICP's understanding of their audience. A song about killing dumb, ignorant hillbillies, I have to assume it's cathartic to people who left behind wacky rural families behind when they left home. "Toy Box" is about a guy with murderous toys that turn on him, and makes me laugh. It sounds hokey, and that's because it is, hokey and worth a listen. A lot of this is appealing to me because I don't listen to rap music, partly because I don't care for the subject matter.
I like rappers like Kanye West and Eminem because I can't identify with or enjoy a lot of the gangsta-macho stuff that mainstream rap can't seem to get away from. With ICP, their personas are over the top killer clowns, and that's awesome! Because they're so goofy and have been pretty much rejected from pop culture, their music appeals to social outcasts and others who are down on their luck, something that Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J recognize.
That being said, before I move into the next album, I should probably mention "Ol' Evil Eye", ICP's own adaptation of Poe's "The Tell-tale Heart". Good shit, even if it makes the master turn over in his grave.
The Great Milenko is fantastic, and is a Joker's Card about an evil necromancer clown that tempts you into damning yourself. I'm told this is more of a hip-hop album, but as someone who isn't that familiar with this kind of music, I can't tell the difference. What I will say is there are more songs here that I like than on the previous three albums. The intro, which is read by none other than Alice Cooper, is excellent, as is the title track and "Hokus Pokus", both of which are sufficiently creepy and dark.
"Piggy Pie" is a song about murdering dickhead cops that uses a very, um, clever three little pigs motif. As a funny aside, this album was initially put out by Hollywood Records, and had to be approved by Disney, who forced them to change this song. The album was pulled from shelves anyway, making the whole exercise of censorship pointless anyway. It's just funny to think that Disney read associated with ICP at one point.
"Southwest Voodoo" is another effective song, featuring a black magic chant for chorus, which is to say nothing of "Halls of Illusion", which has Slash on guitar!
One of my other favorites off this album is the existential "How Many Times", which puts you in the mindset of the type of person ICP is talking to. Broke, down on your luck, arrested, your stereo stolen, it's hard to imagine things can ever really get better; in a world that rejects you and shows your no respect, why not remake yourself as a psychotic clown? As Manson says, "They'll never be good to you/bad to you/they'll never be anything at all". Any aging goth kid can understand where ICP is coming from here.
The Amazing Jeckel Brothers is the first album I listened to, and probably my favorite one. "Terrible" and "Bring it On" have the heavy sound that I love, and "Assassins" is just an awesome, badass song in general. If hip-hop is just another word for tough guy music, these songs definitely fit the bill. The bass lines make the songs positively rock in a way I didn't think was possible for ICP. "Everybody Rize" is a cool Juggalo anthem, as is "Fuck the World", calling out a culture and industry that rejects and hates them like a boss. If you're on the fence about these fuckers, this is another great album to start with, especially considering the touching final song, "Nothing's Left", which reflects on the broken nature of the world, and wonders if there can be any real salvation for anyone. Considering ICP are Christian and ultimately incorporated they're religion into their music, I know what their opinion on this is, but just begging the question gives the song a universal appeal that even an angry atheist like myself can identify with.
At the end of the day, I have to figure that getting to know the Insane Clown Posse was rewarding for me. I'm not a Juggalo, but I understand their world a lot better and get how they can be kind to others and have something special with their subculture. I plan to listen to more ICP and write about them, but I'd like to write about Juggalo culture first. If you're a Juggalo or have any thoughts, I want to hear from you! Have you met the Insane Clown Posse or been to their shows? Have you been to the gathering of the Juggalos? An I wrong about anything I wrote above?
#insane clown posse#hip hop#rap#music#music review#blogger#gothic#rap rock#subculture#new poets society
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One of the production guys was telling me this funny story about how he got fired from working on crew with Insane Clown Posse. Apparently what happened was he was trying to push some equipment down a hallway and some skinny guy was standing in his way. He asked him to move and the skinny guy got real pissy like “Fuck you! I can stand where I want!” so production dude got mad and was like, “Look, move the fuck out of the way!” Turns out the skinny guy was actually a member of ICP (probably Shaggy 2 Dope) but production guy didn’t realise it was him because he wasn’t wearing his clown makeup so he was reported the tour manager and was later sent home. I asked if all the ICP members were assholes like that and that’s when he told me that “the fat one” (probably Violent J) was there when it happened and was egging production guy on, telling him to “Beat his ass! You could do it; look at his skinny little arms!” and I fucking lost my shit and now whenever I hear about ICP, I’ll remember how Violent J told my coworker to beat Shaggy’s ass.
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My Axe Is My Buddy
The Insane Clown Posse busted through the door as Yukio Mishima was about to shove a tantō into his stomach. The summer’s sun brightening Yukio’s apartment.
They recoiled, and begged their hero, the literary giant, not to commit such a definite act. Yukio looked up, saw the Clown Posse as they were, and laughed.
“Please sir,” Shaggy 2 Dope said, “why do you laugh? We have come all this way to meet you, to thank you for all your work has done to enrich our lives. Our very souls touched by your genius. We were performing our music last night, which your wife attended, who told us afterwards of what you were planning to do. We knew we had to come prevent this terrible event from occurring. So why…why do you laugh?”
Yukio, with his blade poking his stomach, contained himself.
“I have been sitting here for 2 hours, waiting for a witness to arrive, so that I may perform seppuku. And God has delivered me two clowns. I am at peace—”
Yukio punctured deep into his left side, and cut across his stomach. Blood vomiting from his insides, a dark red pool drowning Yukio’s soul.
Violent J was in disbelief, unable to move. The sun burning his neck. His eyes twitched.
Shaggy 2 Dope, wanting to honor samurai tradition, took out his axe from the front of his pants, walked to where his hero lay, and grabbed him by the head. With his axe raised to the sky, Shaggy 2 Dope’s arm could not move.
“Shaggy, you must complete what has already started.”
“But I cannot, J. His words, their pure beauty and pain, are carved into my being.”
“Shaggy look down.”
“J I see.”
“You do not.”
“What am I not seeing?”
“His soul, drowning from himself. Take your axe, and if you love him, release him.”
Shaggy 2 Dope’s single tear made a ripple in Yukio’s blood, and with a single chop, the axe stood between a head and a body. A grey heron flew through the window and alighted on the axe’s handle. Trembling, Shaggy 2 Dope wept in the sun’s spotlight. His clown makeup began to wash away.
The heron watched Violent J walk to his comrade. He grabbed his shoulders and stared into him gently. Clown to clown.
“With makeup, or without, you reflect the great laughter of the mother universe, who laughs through all that embodies her. Our dear hero, and friend, knew this, and this is why he laughed. He traversed the forest, lived in the forest, and escaped through the forest. Let us go now, into that forest, and make ourselves laugh.”
On the bloody axes handle the heron watched as the Insane Clown Posse, holding each other, walked into the bright yellow sun.
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Violent J: *breaks bloods nose and jaw dropping him* stay down
Blood: *gets up slowly* I won't stay down
Violent J: fine *beats on blood somemore*
Jr: stop this plz!!!!!!
Shaggy 2 dope: enjoy the show kid u'll want to remember this
Violent J: *kicks blood in his rubs breaking a couple*
Blood: ahhhh *losing too much blood getting up* that all u got
Jr: brother plz stay down
Blood: never give me ur best shot *is barley standing*
Shaggy 2 dope: finish him J
Violent J: *does the juggalo death punch*
Blood: *my heart explodes dropping to ground*
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Nitromare: Three men make a terrible decision
I haven’t been posting here much because Hakujinjoe is visiting from Japan and we’re roaming around New England. For some reason, we decided to watch every episode of Monday Nitro during the Vince Russo-Ed Ferrara Era, starting with the very first one on October 18, 1999. Mark has joined us on this terrible journey, as he is not afraid to endure the worst 1990s TV wrestling had to offer. Let’s dive in, shall we?
The episode, airing from Philadelphia, starts with a limo arriving, a Vince Russo favorite. A bunch of suits get out, followed by Sid Vicious. They walk toward the arena with expressions of grim purpose.
Inside, we get a good cruiserweight match between Juventud Guerrera and Evan Karagias that is interrupted by Bret Hart, who comes out to complain that “politics in the back” have kept him from wrestling Hulk Hogan. This promo is interrupted by Sting, who comes out and offers Bret a world title shot, but not before saying, “I got your legacy right here” and doing a crotch chop.
There’s a two-minute match between Disco Inferno and Vampire that ends with Disco getting a clean pin, then getting attacked by Lash Laroux. Heenan and Schiavone are on commentary and this is still definitively a wrestling show, but cracks are starting to show.
In the ring, there’s some kind of Nitro Girls competition happening, in which a new Nitro Girl will be chosen. The contestants are Chiquita and Stacy Keibler, and we see b-roll of them dancing suggestively. I think both ended up as Nitro Girls, but this segment is interrupted by Buff Bagwell, who comes out in a pair of overalls painted like a Kriss Kross video in 1990. He cuts a promo in which he repeats “Buff is the stuff” half a dozen times, dances awkwardly, and leaves.
The Vince Russo Era has truly begun.
Some crowd signs: “No One Gives a Damn What the Rock Says”; “WWF = Wrestling White Trash Federation”; “Rey Misterio Bronco Buster ME”; “Rap is Crap!”; “Nash is God”; “Sid Fears the Spear”; “Sid Sucks”; “Velcro Despencers” [sic]; “Sid Your Next” [sic]; “Goldberg Philly is Next”; “Sting Rules”; “The Outsiders Are the Real Deal”; “Drunk 24:7″; “I See Dead People”; “Stone Cold Smokes the Pole”; “Hogan = Homo”; “Jebroni” [sic]; “Austin Sleeps With Sheep”; “Goldberg the Last True Hero”
Tag team championship match: Konnan and an unmasked Rey Misterio Jr. vs champs Harlem Heat. There’s decent wrestling, with Rey in particular hitting a beeyootiful springboard moonsault, but Vince and Ed cannot abide a mere wrestling match, so Eddie Guerrero, Billy Kidman, and Torrie Wilson come out to talk on commentary for some reason. No one is calling the match, but it’s good. Rey looks like a child without his mask. Actually, with the dyed blonde hair, he looks exactly like his son, Dominic, whose custody he would later battle for in a ladder match. Stevie Ray hits the slowest, sloppiest power slam I have ever seen in a professional wrestling match. Eddie and Kidman interfere, then Rey and Konnan cheat to win the titles. NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPS. This is fine. The Filthy Animals were supposed to be cheating heels.
Kimberly Page is looking for someone backstage and is talking flirtatiously to David Flair, a man who does not want to be on television. It’s incredible how poorly suited he was for this. “David Flair looks like some guy they pulled out of the audience, like he’s shocked to be there,” Joe notes. “Like some college guy who just got out of a party.” Not since Mike Von Erich has a member of a wrestling family been so visibly unsuited for wrestling.
HELL YES. IT’S MENG TIME. Meng is wrestling Bill DeMott, who is still in his Hugh Morrus persona, but now he’s SERIOUS and Jimmy Hart is his manager. Morrus headbutts Meng, which is a bad choice. As the match proceeds, Scott Hall and Kevin Nash walk down the arena steps, so the entire crowd stops paying attention to what’s happening the ring. This is a hallmark of Vince Russo’s philosophy: just constantly have things interrupted by other things. Meng wins with the Tongan Death Grip, but the crowd doesn’t care. Hall and Nash are sitting ringside with two women Heenan describes as “beautiful dolls.”
Sid comes out to the ring and then calls his “attorneys” to join him. The crowd boos the attorneys. The crowd chants “Goldberg” while Sid uncorks a Vintage. Halting. Promo. With. Lots. Of. Jumbled. Shouting. “I. Am. A. Man. Of. My. Word. I. Am. A. Man. Of. Integrity” Sid says, a sentiment that many 21st century indie promoters will have reason to dispute. Goldberg runs out and absolutely flattens one of the actors playing a lawyer. Just fucking kills the guy. Sid lays Goldberg out with a kick and then power bombs him. The crowd is livid. This is a good setup for Halloween Havoc, because people are booing the heel and want to see him get his ass kicked. This is good wrestling booking. I can give credit where it’s due.
At ringside, Hall and Nash are laughing at Goldberg, who mushes them both. There’s a pull apart. Someone in the crowd throws a roll of toilet paper, because hey, Philadelphia. The Outsiders are led from the arena by security. A fresh-faced kid of perhaps 13 runs down to try and get Hall and Nash to Too Sweet him; a 1999 Internet fan. We watch a long tracking shot of Hall and Nash being led through the Spectrum, or whatever the Philly arena was called at this point. It’s almost artistic it’s so tedious. JJ Dillon appears for a split second, looking like a man who is rethinking the last 18 months of his decisions.
Backstage, Mike Tenay interviews Bret Hart, who cuts a good, standard wrestling promo, although he keeps calling the company “the WCW.” The interview is interrupted by Sting jumping Hart in the locker room, which is badly out of character.
Now Berlyn comes out with his bodyguard, The Wall. Get it? Beryln and the Wall? God, was anyone in WCW more ill-served by the writers than Alex Wright? He was a good wrestler with a good look, who was given absolutely nothing to work with. Come to think of it, that also describes Brad Armstrong. Tonight, Berlyn will be wrestling the Dogface Gremlin himself, Rick Steiner, who looks as excited to be here as someone attending family court. It’s weirdly compelling how little Rick Steiner cares about this match. Why should he care? This match is going to be interrupted, and it is, by Brad Armstrong! Speak of the devil. Jesus, poor Brad Armstrong. He hates Berlyn, but his interference accidentally costs Steiner the match, and Steiner beats up Armstrong with a lazy, unhurried disinterest.
We’re back in the bowels of the Spectrum, where Hall and Nash have sneaked back in. They wander around looking for Goldberg. They’re good at sneaking, what with this camera crew following them.
Now we’re at a hotel, and Kimberly page comes inside and then disrobes to a one-piece lingerie set. Instead of DDP, though, Ric Flair jumps out of the bathroom and tells Kimberly, “Tonight you gonna get the 14-time spanking your daddy shoulda given you a long time ago.”
Now we’re backstage, and Goldberg, prowling the Spectrum, lays out Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope from Insane Clown Posse, which, as Joe notes, gets the biggest pop of the night.
Now we’re at a different part of the backstage area, and Lex Luger and Miss Elizabeth are being interviewed, the knowledge we have now making this hard to watch. Lex cuts a halting, awkward promo about how he is, indeed, the total package.
David Flair comes out in his father’s robe, to his father’s music, with all the pomp and circumstance of an unemployed guy walking outside to get the mail. He’ll be wrestling Billy Kidman, who comes out with Torrie Wilson. Four years after this, they would be married. The crowd hates David Flair’s awkward offense so much. Flair sucks so bad at this. Flair does sell the Shooting Star Press convincingly, probably because he was legitimately terrified and hurt by it. Kidman wins, and the Filthy animals come out to beat on Flair. Wikipedia tells me David Flair never wanted to be a wrestler, which sounds about right.
Now we’re backstage for the Hall and Nash Snoop Hour. They run into Gene Okerlund, who looks bored and disgusted.
Now we’re backstage, but in a different part, and Ric Flair is here, presumably having had sex with Kimberly Page despite her original desire to have sex with her husband. When I was growing up I had an issue of Playboy with Kimberly Page in it, which was a revelation for a WWF fan like myself.
Now we’ve got an evening gown match featuring Mona - better known as Molly Holly - and Madusa, who is disgusted by the stipulation AND THAT’S PROBABLY A SHOOT BROTHER. This starts off fast, with some actual wrestling and some crisp suplexes from both women. “The last time I saw two women in dresses fighting like that was at Bloomingdale’s at the end of the month sale,” Brain says, beaming in from 1964. Madusa takes out the ref with a missed kick and then hits a beautiful suplex on Mona. Mona sneaks up from behind and pulls Madusa’s dress off. The crowd boos. None of us wanted this. Madusa gets the mic to cut a promo, saying everyone can kiss her ass.
Backstage. Sting is pacing back and forth. Bret is heading out to the ring. Hart, maybe the best pure wrestler of his generation, was so badly misused by WCW. It’s really a phenomenal story. How could you screw something like this up? But they did. Oh, boy, did they.
People love Sting, and at this point they still love Bret, so this match is a dumb idea. In retrospect it seems insane that they had this match, with no buildup, on an episode of free TV, but that was kind of common in this era, in both companies. The match begins as a leisurely paced brawl until Bret gets the upper hand by getting the knees up to stuff the Vader Bomb, or whatever it was called when Sting did it. Bret takes over for a while, then Sting reverses an Irish whip and gets a Stinger Splash to get the upper hand. Nick Patrick is the referee, and is not wearing a belt. Is that common? It looks weird. How are you holding up your sensible black trousers, Nick Patrick? The crowd is firmly behind Sting, who hits the elbow drop and does that thing where he cups his hands over his mouth and yells. I would describe this match as Perfectly Fine. It’s a rung or three below what these guys are capable of, but it’s not bad. Bret hits an absolutely filthy piledriver, but Sting kicks out. Hart teases the Sharpshooter but doesn’t give the crowd what they want. After some futzing around, he finally locks it in, but Sting grabs the rope. Sting is selling the effect of the Sharpshooter very well, trying to get Hart up for a bodyslam but having his leg give out under him. Oh boy, an interruption: Miss Elizabeth comes out to the ring for some reason, followed shortly by a bat-wielding Lex Luger. Hart is forced to fight Luger and Hart. Luger hits Hart in the shin with a bat, enabling Sting to lock in the Scorpion Deathlock, to which Hart immediately taps out. That finish was not Perfectly Fine.
Wait, that wasn’t the main event? We’re backstage. Ric is yelling at David Flair, who repeatedly mumbles “Billy Kidman beat me up.” It’s hard to believe these two men are related.
Backstage in a different part of the Spectrum. Hall and Nash are putting on lucha masks for some reason. They are still looking for Goldberg.
We’re back to the ring, for La Parka. Have you heard that he’s having a career year in 2018? Well, in 1999, he was having the kind of year where he had to follow a 15-minute Bret Hart-Sting match by wrestling Buff Bagwell. The crowd is predictably dead. What would these men say if you told them that in less than 20 years, one would be a gigolo and the other would be having a career year in pro wrestling? They would probably correctly guess which one would be the gigolo. La Parka beats a visibly disinterested Buff with a roll-up. Then Buff gets on the headset and says, “Hey, Russo, did I do a good job for you? Who else is going to beat me? Why don’t you come out and beat me?” Then Jeff Jarrett, in a surprise arrival from WWF, runs out and kabongs Buff with a guitar shot. The crowd reacts at least. This was kind of a famous jump from WWF to WCW, after Jarrett held Vince up for a huge sum of money to drop the belt to Chyna after his contract expired. Jarrett grabs his dick, says, “You wanna talk about stroke, bitch?” and then walks to the back. This is painfully Russovian.
After another painful Hall-Nash segment backstage, we’ve got Eddie Guerrero vs. Chavo Jr. vs. Perry Saturn in a three-way elimination match. Shane Douglas joins the commentary team and says he is “the guy that built Philadelphia and kept wrestling alive in this godforsaken city.” The crowd is oddly silent for a match featuring Perry Saturn. Saturn throws a beautiful array of suplays while the Guerreros bicker. Eddie suplexes Chavo outside the damn ring, a crazy bump. This is a good match. The crowd is totally bored, or maybe exhausted. On the hard camera side, two guys dressed like Hulk Hogan who been doing wacky dances all night sit down immediately when a leathery Philadelphia Guido comes over and visibly motherfucks them, jabbing his finger and yelling. Good for you, Guy Who Makes Me Think of Frank Rizzo, those guys were awful. We need an interruption, so the Filthy Animals come down for some reason. They beat up Saturn while Douglas, who has an arm in a cast, rages. “It’s a damn conspiracy here!” he yells. Eddie hits the frog splash on Saturn for the pin, and then Chavo Jr. hits a tornado DDT on his uncle to win. The crowd is confused and angry. The Filthy Animals storm the ring and beat up Chavo. No one cares.
God, is there more to this episode? We are exhausted. It feels like we started watching this five hours ago.
Oh God, Horace Hogan in a hardcore match? A WCW hardcore match in Philadelphia when ECW was still a living proposition. It’s going to be Horace vs. Norman Smiley. One of the Hogan impersonators is dancing again. Where is Frank Rizzo Guy when we need him? This match is boring and bad. Horace sets up a table and goes through it. Norman wins. No one cares.
WHEN IS THIS GOING TO END? Flair comes down to the ring. Ric, not David. Who cares where David is. Flair makes a somewhat tortuous analogy between himself and Bobby Clarke, the great thuggish Philadelphia Flyer from the 1970s. He talks about having sex with Kimberly Page earlier in the night. He compares his son, David, to Eric Lindros. A lot of hockey talk tonight. Flair says he drank the Guerrero Brothers under the table in every bar from Mexico to Philadelphia, a plausible claim. The Filthy Animals come out and beat on Flair, which the crowd hates. David runs out to help his dad, and also gets beat on. Rey Misterio hits the bronco buster on Ric Flair. Konnan rips off Flair’s shirt and takes his wallet. The Filthy Animals take Flair’s jewelry. “Well, it’s Philadelphia,” Heenan notes.
Lex Luger stumbles on Miss Elizabeth, laid out in the women’s locker room, a broken guitar laying near her head. ELIAS? WAS THAT YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH??
Goldberg comes to the ring, accompanied by security guards, while the crowd chants for him. One of the all-time greatest entrances in wrestling history. Somehow, this - Goldberg vs. Lex - is the main event, rather than Sting vs. Bret Hart. Goldberg runs outside the ring to start the match on the entrance ramp. Big “Goldberg” chants. This match is already way too long for a Goldberg match. Waaaaay too long. The Outsiders wander out from the back. “The fight goes on and on,” Tony says, summing up this whole ordeal. Now Sting runs out of the back for some reason and hits Goldberg with a baseball bat. The crowd boos. Now Bret Hart runs out of the back and starts beating up Sting. This is such a disaster. The crowd is pelting the ring with cups of soda. Goldberg spears Lex Luger and wins.
Grade: Pot Roast That Has Been Left In The Sun For Days.
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Insane Clown Posse's Violent J Talks Duo's Solo Albums, Juggalos' Washington March & Big Plans for 2018
Insane Clown Posse's Violent J Talks Duo's Solo Albums, Juggalos' Washington March & Big Plans for 2018
Insane Clown Posse is conquering by dividing this year.
With a follow-up to the 2015 diptych of The Marvelous Missing Link: Lost and The Marvelous Missing Link: Found not due until next year, Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope each have solo albums planned for this year. New Year’s Day of 2018, however, will reveal what’s next for ICP: “There’s gonna be a lot of changes made in 2018,” Violent J tells Billboard, cryptically. “All things will be changed in 2018 — like major change, to pretty much everything. That’s the only way I can put it right now.”
Until then, the erstwhile clowns will have no shortage of new music to offer Juggalos — including tour dates in Europe and Australia, as well as a final Riddle Box Tour show taking place this weekend in Detroit. Meanwhile, Shaggy 2 Dope’s third solo set, Fuck The Fuck Off Motherfucker, is due out this spring and is — according to his partner — “very Shaggy 2 Dope.”
“I didn’t want any involvement,” says Violent J., who nevertheless does appear on one track at Shaggy’s request. “I wanted him to do it all him and write it all and produce it all. I don’t even want to hear it; I want to put it on and not know what’s next and get to know it like I do my other favorite rappers. So he sat with DJ Clay and produced every beat from track and it’s really cool. It’s taking a long time, but he’s wrapping it up now. From what I have heard it sounds very high-paced, extreme intensity. I can tell he’s putting all his heart into it.”
Violent J, meanwhile, is gathering material for his fourth solo release, Karma Forest, which he hopes to have out this fall. “I’m getting tracks from several different producers,” he says. “I don’t like to hear what they already have; I like to tell ’em what I want and see what they come up with.”
The set will also have a lot in common with ICP’s The Marvelous Missing Link: Found. “My album is going to be all positive,” Violent J says. “I want to make an uplifting, fresh, positive album. Y’know, I thought the Juggalos would love ‘…Lost’ more, the negative dark one with songs about going to hell and shit. But, much to my surprise many, many Juggalos love ‘…Found’ more, so I want to stay on that tip.”
ICP is also using 2017 as a “special” year for the band. “The number 17 is sacred in the Juggalo world, for various reasons. It’s kind of our good luck number, so we want to do all fun stuff this year,” Violent J says. A key reference point is “They Unveiling,” the 17th track from 2002’s The Wraith: Shangri-La album in which ICP revealed the meaning of its first Dark Carnival mythology. “That’s when we said that the Dark Carnival was God and all that,” Violent J says. “I sort of wish we would’ve referenced that differently; To a lot of people God means Christian or Catholic and neither Shaggy or I are any specific religion. I just meant The Creator. We believe in a higher power, having faith, the power of positive thinking and things like that.”
As part of the celebration ICP has created imagery-encrusted logos, including the familiar Hatchetman with diamonds, and has filmed a special Psychopathic Records video with the label’s entire roster sharing positive messages. “The idea is let the results of 2017 be our year and last the rest of your life,” Violent J explains. “Even though things are crazy in the world with the president, the reemergence of racism and insanity, that’s just the devil trying to rain on our parade. Let’s shine. Let’s beam positivity and karma and don’t let hate distract you. We want to look back and remember 2017 as the year everything was about shiny diamonds.”
ICP will, however, confront some of its recent darkness on Sept. 16 with a Juggalo march on Washington, D.C. to protest the FBI’s designation of the Juggalos as a gang. “People can call it a publicity stunt. That’s fine, that’s exactly what it is — a publicity stunt for Juggalos,” notes Violent J, who’s peeved at fellow Detroit rap duo Twiztid, whose career was launched with Psychopathic, for pulling out of the march and talking smack about the event. But that won’t deter ICP’s determination to keep the issue alive.
“Nothing will stop our shine,” he vows. “I refuse to let those hurtful, painful betrayals ruin it. This is such a lifestyle for so many people. Juggalos are mostly people who have felt like outcasts, they felt like clowns and like they didn’t belong to anything and when they discovered the Juggalo world that gave them something to belong to. They gather on their own, even with no concert and they shouldn’t get fucked with for it. We will always represent for them.”
Source: Billboard
http://tunecollective.com/2017/02/25/insane-clown-posses-violent-j-talks-duos-solo-albums-juggalos-washington-march-big-plans-for-2018/
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