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I woke up on August 29th, 2018 feeling more than just a little intimidation. I don’t think I’ve ever been actually frightened to attend a concert before, but then again, I had never seen Insane Clown Posse before either.
Nor really heard them. A couple of years previously their song Miracle made the internet rounds, spawning a minor meme about magnets (How do they work?), and until I youtubed a couple of songs before going to the show (Chicken Huntin’ and Hokus Pokus) that was my sole experience with the makeup-faced ultra-violent Christian rap duo.
Besides the ubiquitous media reports of course; reports that made ICP and their fanbase (known as Juggalos and Juggalettes) sound like evil, horrible, dangerous, downright infamous people. Didn’t the US Marshals actually label the Juggalos as a criminal gang at one point? Meaning that any congregation of four or more Juggalos (or Juggalettes) in one place placed them in jeopardy of being arrested. And it was exactly these reports that made me afraid.
But it turns out that just like usual all of these reports were overblown, exaggerated, or just plain false. When I arrived at the venue (The Bourbon Room in downtown Ottawa) I was a bit early and ended up waiting for fifteen minutes outside to hand a ticket to a friend, which gave me ample time to observe the Juggalo culture up close and in-person.
Though a few standing near me were obviously in the “young and stupid” category, yelling about fighting and reminding me very much of the loudmouth scaredy-cats I used to spend time with when I was a hostel-surfing young’un, the rest seemed very kind, chatty, and engaged. People were commenting on each other’s facepaint and taking selfies and just generally having a pleasant time waiting for the concert. It seemed to me that quite a few had travelled for the show, but they might have all been local or semi-local; it could be that we have some ICP fans around these parts, but I’m not sure…
When I went inside I went straight upstairs; up and away from the main Faygo trajectory. Onstage was the opening act, a solo black rapper who sang exclusively about suicide and/or wanting to die. I remember him rhyming words like “mind” with “mind” and “arrested” with “arrested” which is absolutely unforgivable. I would compliment him on remembering the vast amount of lyrics but how did I know he got them right? Anyway, he was so forgettable that I didn’t even know his name when he was on the stage.
During his set I did notice that everything in sight was covered with plastic. The speakers, the light rigs, the balcony railing, the back of the bars, the walls, the floors, everything. That’s for the Faygo. It was becoming clear that being in the balcony would not be enough to keep me soda-safe, but whattya gonna do? You buy the ticket, you take the bath.
Though I had never read the books, when I finally saw the Lord Of The Rings movies I already knew the Hobbits would be short and have furry toes; everybody knows that. But I did think there would be more to the Hobbits and was surprised that those two features were their only ‘hooks’.
Likewise, though I was not at all a fan of ICP I was aware that the band tends to douse their fans in cheap soda during their shows…again, everybody knows that. But just like the Hobbits, I figured there was more to it; that the Faygo thing would be just one of their quirks.
I was wrong. It’s their whole shtick.
So, for those that don’t know, before ICP begins a show the stage is pre-loaded with hundreds of 2L bottles of Faygo (the American version of Big 8 soda), which they liberally pour into and over their audience for the whole show. I really, really expected to hate it but it was – I’m choosing my words carefully here: stupidly entertaining. By the second song Faygo was hitting the ceiling. I had been careful to wear swimming trunks and a soccer jersey for their quick-dryability and I chose wisely. I didn’t get soaked up there in the balcony but I didn’t stay dry either.
But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Backing up I was surprised that the band kept us waiting for a good ninety minutes after the opening act had finished before starting the show but it could have been worse: the opening act could have still been on the stage. As I waited I struck up a conversation with a girl who was seeing her favourite band for the first time. Not only that, this was her first-ever concert (“Not counting Christian rock shows, which don’t count,” she told me). She was very nice, and it gave me pause that the Christian connection was legit.
When the show started I liked it almost immediately. I don’t know for sure what I liked, the music or the spectacle, but it was probably equal parts of both. A few songs in the fellow next to me (who had ordered bottle service) started feeding me tequila shots and he never stopped. He was with a very nice and innocent-looking girl named Mary Jane who was also seeing her favourite band for the first time. I forget what she said to indicate she was also a Christian but she did mention how it was good and healthy to live out the evil fantasies of the Dark Carnival with Insane Clown Posse. At the end of the night I told her it was nice to meet her, she replied “God bless.”
Not everybody knows this, but I was a super-heavy-duty Pentecostal Christian when I was a teenager, and I just don’t think I could have reconciled my faith at the time with an ICP show. The debauchery, the lyrical violence, the spectacle and hedonism, the drinking, the swearing…but hey, if God’s down with it what do I have to say about it?
They never did play Miracle, though they opened with Hokus Pokus and closed with Chicken Huntin’ so I did some singing along. At the end of the concert the clowns got about thirty audience members up on stage with them and the Faygo really went wild. When all was said and done there was a good inch or two of diet root beer on the ground floor of the venue. On my way out I saw a couple of guys laying on the floor making Faygo angels. It was beautiful and disgusting all at once and something I hope I won’t see again. All I could think of was the poor janitors coming in for the night shift.
In the end I was shocked at how much fun I had. I would definitely see these guys again. And now that I have actually met real-live Juggalos en masse I am no longer afraid of their ilk. The next time I see a bunch of kids in black and white makeup I’ll be giving them a “Whoop-whoop, ninjas!” and take the high fives as they land.
Todd Man Out 