Insane Clown Posse – The Mighty Death Pop! 10.0

                 After the success of their last album, the intrepid group thought of where to go next. Clearly the reaction to their music video “Miracles” made them rethink their music. Should they go ‘meta’ in their music, becoming a parody of a parody of themselves?  Violent J said no, they should take their music to a more serious place. 

                The follow-up focuses on the death of pop music as a medium used to convey ideas. Shaggy 2 Dope planned this out to further explore the less anti-social tendencies of their last album which explored ways of confronting evil, such as the track ‘To Catch a Predator’. Employing Godspeed You! Black Emperor after listening to a lot of Glenn Branca and Rhys Chatham, they set out to create an epic sound. 

                Knowing they needed some beats, they got Diplo to lay down the most ill, fresh-ass beats this side of the Dark Carnival. Originally they wanted to name their album “The American Metaphysical Circus” to continue with the Dark Carnival theme but multiple record store owners formed a class action lawsuit against them preventing the usage of the title. Claiming “haters gonna hate” they sat down and worked on what they hoped would be the best 2 disc set they’ve ever created.

                In fact, this album devastates from the first track, the twenty-two minute “We know how Magnets Work”. A soft-spoken man begins talking about his life growing up, trying to write the perfect sentence. Slowly the man’s voice shows enthusiasm, hope and Shaggy 2 Dope quietly raps over, asking us if any scientist could explain the hope a man feels once they accomplished something truly great. As the violins reach a fevered crescendo, Diplo’s beats come in and Violent J joins him. This is in direct response to the endless parodying they received at the hands of the ‘lamestream media’ they mention at the end of the track, quoting Sarah Palin’s thoughts on the topic of celebrity.

                ‘Nailin Palin’ follows immediately after. Beginning with a reading of her most memorable quotes by various members of Negativland about her career devolving into a pure political meme, ICP begin the most inspired rap they have ever done. Words flow so smoothly, like milk and honey from the mouths of babes. They discuss how the media nearly did that to them, but this was before they discovered quality writers like William S. Burroughs, and proceed to cut up their raps making new meanings out of words and phrases. This goes on for 30 minutes to a mix between dubstep and modern classical music which gives a wink to Velvet Underground's "Sister Ray". 

                Disc 2 has some of the best stuff I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Let’s just say Slint appears on some of the tracks and makes those tracks mad dope yo. Additionally, they have clearly been listening to a lot of Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, and Kurt Schwitters’ tonal poetry. Hearing these songs is positively sublime, and may lead to countless imitators. Rumor has it that they had to be institutionalized during the course of the recordings due to the sheer genius which permeated their minds. No doubt James Joyce’s work played a pivotal role as well, as constant references are made to the book, especially in the song “Mookie”.

                Ending it in heart-breaking fashion is the 35 minute-long “Jandek, Mad Respect”. They are joined by none other than that Texan iconoclast. Using his bleating, world-weary voice to great effect, he merges with Godspeed You Black Emperor and Diplo’s beats to create a track which defies all words. Calling it “Orgasmic” could not begin to do justice to the testament of American exceptional-ism it so clearly celebrates.

                Honestly, I thought these guys weren’t very good before this album. I didn’t feel the love of the Juggalo or Juggalette community. After hearing this, I get the sense of artists no longer constrained by commercial considerations, though I hope this album makes some serious chedda. By this point, they have a dedicated enough fan-base who is smart enough to understand where this is coming from, it is coming from their tortured souls. If you ever wanted an introduction to the furthest extremes of the avant-garde while still remaining accessible to the masses, this is the best album for the job. Your mouth will drop at the sheer beauty contained within two mere CD discs. Violet J and Shaggy 2 Dope are clearly the voice of our generation. I know they call these “Jokers Cards” but there’s no joke about the sheer quality product they put out.

Origin Story 6

Some say a picture is worth a thousand words. I felt this one was worth a little more.

             Growing up was hard in the heartland of America’s industrial decay. Being one of nine children, I distinctly remember living in extreme poverty. Sometimes when I wanted to feel luxury, I’d go to the local library and pretend I owned all the books. When the librarians were away from the desk, I’d scourge the back of the office and look for food to eat.

                Yep, life was hard. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with my life. Aimlessness became my ultimate trademark. Reading more and more, I wondered if a group existed who could feel my plight, with whom I could truly sympathize. 

                One day I sat on the porch stoop eating ants I found on the ground. Two painted individuals were walking across the street. Each one wore mysterious clown/gangster makeup. Intrigued, I approached them and asked why they looked that way. Smiling and laughing, they stated they were Juggalos going out to spread the good word. They were missionaries from Detroit sent to spread the gospel of the Insane Clown Posse.

                I asked what did the Insane Clown Posse believe in, and what made them so insane? Were they perhaps insane in the membrane, and started singing that popular Cypress Hill song. The two told me to stop and listen. According to their gospel, The Insane Clown Posse was insane due to the enormous unequal distribution of income, thus creating a vast underclass. If I joined, I could help redistribute the wealth. They wanted me to get ‘down with the clowns’. I told them about my desire to stay a virgin until I found that ‘special someone’ not willing to simply clown away that important part of me. Both of them laughed and told me they meant musically and not in any other way. I was relieved. 

                Later that week I was baptized as a Juggalo in a backyard pool of Faygo. Finally, I belonged somewhere. Though my parents complained about my music, saying how the Insane Clown Posse were no Alice in Chains (what I used to listen to). Both my mom and my dad told me my vocabulary had gone down the poop bowl. I didn’t care; I had finally found a group which accepted me. 

                Dropping out of High School, I became an Insane Clown Posse disciple. I lived and breathed their breaths. Since I had such true faith, I was offered dope-ass deals on the latest and greatest ICP merchandise. But not all was fine inside the Dark Carnival I soon discovered.

                People didn’t like Juggalos or Juggalettes, claiming we reeked of sticky soda and Body Odor. Well, I’m sorry, but ICP hadn’t come out with a deodorant yet, otherwise we would’ve been on top of that. Other forms of persecution came from our own bosses. Since we listened to ICP, we must be stupid and I got paid less than my non-ICP listening coworkers. I made up for that by working less hard at 7/11 and stealing more Sausages, which tasted very similar to those ants I used to eat as a kid.

                When I was 18, I came under pressure. Anti-ICP fervor had sparked up across the country. Slowly others began to hide their clown roots, much to the dismay of my ICP peers. But I stayed true, keeping on my makeup, even if it meant people thought I was an idiot who listened to shitty music. I didn’t care. I was stronger than they were.

                One day I wasn’t stronger. People raided our local ICP temple bearing weapons and boom boxes blaring allegedly better music, such as Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones. Honestly, I thought ICP smoked those turkeys. I didn’t want to get hurt though, as they begun mercilessly beating my fellows Juggalos and Juggalettes. I thought ICP fans were ninjas, but they were getting their asses handed to them pretty easily. Worried my entire life was falling apart, I hid inside a large squirrel costume until they had left. 

                Fearing for my safety, I stayed there until I heard a voice. Looking across, I saw someone wearing a female squirrel costume. She asked me if I had anything for her. Jokingly I said I was storing some nuts for her. That made her very excited and she asked me if I wanted to yiff. Not knowing what that meant, I said sure and soon discovered a new part of my life.

                Yiffing made me feel strong. No longer did I have to expose myself to others, setting myself up for ridicule. Instead, I could have sex with other people while inside a giant squirrel costume. Whether or not people were attractive didn’t matter anymore. I saw deep into their souls, where the souls were perfectly encased in a suit of plastic. I felt knightly in my suit, if a knight didn’t stand for all those things like bravery and stuff.

                Wearing a giant squirrel costume brought me into a whole another world. Oddly, people weren’t willing to hire a guy who dressed up in a giant squirrel costume. I was getting discriminated against again. Even without money, I found friends. Crust punks became my new friends. Despite living in a giant squirrel costume, I smelled better than them. 

                This was the lowest point in my life, according to some social worker who gave me free sandwiches. He said that an Insane Clown Posse fan that was a furry and lived under a bridge had few job prospects. After I mentioned I was a high school dropout, he started laughing hysterically at how totally fucked I was. I think the last thing he told me was “Have a nice life” in between bursts of laughter. 

                But then, everything changed. I met a crust punk girl who apparently had extremely low standards. This may have been due to her heroin addiction, I’m not sure. She saw something in me, a fire which burned. We’d talk about how our parents thought we were failures, just because we had no money and lived under a bridge, searching through trash cans for sustenance. Despite my complete lack of education, she said I was smart. 

                One night, as she held my tail tight, she asked to see my face. No one had seen my face since the incident at the temple. Worried at what she might think of me, I removed my head to show her my face. She threw up next to me, but immediately explained that was due to the foul smell. Looking at me, she asked for me to remove the rest of the suit. Her eyes looked beautiful. I realized I was going to have sex for the first time outside of a giant squirrel costume. I felt scared but she guided me through it. 

                Together we moved into an abandoned building. I began to step outside of my giant squirrel suit comfort zone. All people I guess have to step outside their comfort zone. She gave up heroin. Now both of us live off the drug of love, one where addiction is strong. We moved closer to something approaching normalcy. In the morning we’d get up early and steal shit from 7/11. Whereas we used to steal stuff from the garbage, we’ve moved up to stealing from stores. Someday we dream about stealing from American Apparel. But baby steps I guess. 

                I’m excited about the future. She got me into non-ICP music, though I piece of my heart will always want to get down with the clowns. Now I review music, hoping I’ll make sweet money cake from this blogspot. Things are looking up. Thanks for reading.

Russia’s Worst Spy: Larry the Cable Guy

Russia proves to be that reliable, “Aw shucks you’re still spying on me” kind of enemy. As much as you want to be angry at them for doing it, they do it in such an adorable way. Take Anna Chapman for example. Yeah, she didn’t really get any actual secrets, but she was a hot Russian redhead with leaked nudes. Last time I remember getting naked spy pictures was with the infamous Hipster Grifter (she worked for North Korea). As icing on the cake, Anna’s fellow spies were described in detail as being “sort of lazy”. What a great enemy to have.

None of these spies possessed the incompetence shown by one tireless trooper, whose nudes I hope never leak. Single-handedly, he has done less to harm the United States than overpriced free trade coffee and tariffs on antique Soviet cameras. Yes, I’m speaking of Vlad Badenoff, a skilled cryptographer from the former Soviet Republic of Belarus or, as you might know him, Larry the Cable Guy.

Vlad was born in Belarus to a lower level political functionary. Almost immediately his teacher noticed his penchant for torturing flies by ripping their wings off and for sending mysterious codes to his other classmates. Being placed into an accelerated track, he shocked others with his easy grasp of cryptography. However, ominously, people complained of his tendency to tell off color and inappropriate jokes.

Working in the Soviet Union in the 80s, he tried to help the war effort in Afghanistan. Noticing a large defection rate from his unit, Soviet officials investigated. They learned people in his unit grew offended when he asked them “Have you ever farted so hard that you cracked your back?” In the USSR, telling fart jokes was a crime punishable by death. Fearing losing one of the greatest minds in the field, they transferred him over to East Berlin, where he helped torture political prisoners with his comedy routine. 

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Soviet officials racked their brains thinking of what potential use the irritating cryptographer could provide. On one hand, they sort of wanted to eliminate him. But they knew their time was tenuous, and that any move towards harming him might result in a destabilization of their power. Instead they sent him out to the US to ineffectively spy on the US.

While in the US, he shared such damning information like “There’s a bunch of rednecks here” and “Nebraska is boring”. Being set up in a secret Russian village in rural Nebraska, he began to gain a cult following with his awful attempts at humor. The nonsense spewing from his mouth got considered ‘funny’ by those living in the Deep South. After visiting that area, he found a place he could fit in.

Upon watching the Russian economy tank in 98-99, the Russians set him on a course to ruin American cinema. Doing this they felt it could make Russian-produced movies appear better in comparison. Despite Vlad’s lack of skill and general awfulness, he couldn’t make Russian comedies about Heroin-Addicted pregnant teenage prostitutes appealing beyond the general Sundance Film Festival set.

His uncovering by intelligence agencies occurred during his Roast on Comedy Central. Upon hearing his actual voice, the FBI wanted to storm the stage. Worrying about Gary Busey’s mental stability and possible possession of nuclear weapons, they held off. They tried after the show, but found Larry’s connections to the Blue Collar Comedy Tour were far too strong. Russia remained adamant that they wanted him under no circumstances whatsoever, or else they’d release nude photos of Larry.

Fearful at the havoc this would cause on the internet, creating a Meme even greater than Insane Clown Posse’s “Fuckin’ Magnets, How Do They Work” the US government held off until they found a suitable option. Republican congressman supported Larry remaining in the country, (rightly) claiming that he was useless as a spy. Upon negotiating the many compromises of extending the Bush tax cuts, one of the conditions was that Larry remains in the US to continue what is popularly referred to as a ‘career’. 

Normally I’d be worried at the prospect of revealing such secrets, but since Larry is illiterate in English, I’m not concerned. Hopefully this will exemplify how concerned we should be about the former Red menace.

Hello My Future: 2011

This person seems cool, she should read my blog or save me from a burning building.

According to the news, New Yorkers do a “Good Riddance” day celebration. Taking pieces of paper, they write down the things that bothered them most. Once all the pieces of paper have been collected, they are placed into a giant shredder.

                I thought for a minute whether or not this was a true story by the Daily News. Upon reading the ceremony took place in Times Square, I immediately thought to myself “That’s Why”. New York is New York, Times Square is the equivalent of saying you went to Florida when all you went to was Disney World. Come to think of it, most of the Times Square stuff is owned by Disney too. Coincidence, I think not.

                While most are frantically scrambling things to wish goodbye to (or Good Riddance) I look forward to my future. 2011 offers a great deal of opportunities, not only in politics, business, and so on but in more important fields like new music releases.

                Right now we’re in the “Cruise Control” part of the year. Nobody really accomplishes anything towards the end of the year. Yes, some good things did happen: the 9/11 First Responders Health Care Bill passed alongside “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. Mostly though, you might as well sleep until your New Year’s Eve party.

                Having said that, there are a few releases I’m looking forward to or am hoping will happen. Below are some of those artists who have stated they may/may not be releasing something this year:

Panda Bear – Tomboy (I hope this is released in 2011, and doesn’t become some kind of alt version of Guns N’ Roses “Chinese Democracy” taking years to create yet somehow managing to disappoint everyone).

Deerhoof – Deerhoof Vs. Evil (Yeah, I know they aren’t as relevant as they once were, but I maintain a soft spot for their output.)

Toro Y Moi – Underneath the Pine (Yes)

PJ Harvey – Let England Shake (Yes)

Cake – Showroom of Compassion (I guess these guys got up and realized that their audience was entering into ‘Cool Mom/Cool Dad’ territory. Discovering this, they decided putting out another album would be a great way of attracting a new audience who believe they have taste but really don’t)

Smith Westerns – Dye it Blond (People tell me I should care about this band, but I’ve never listened to them)

Iron & Wine – Kiss Each Other Clean (Advertising executives needed more songs to sell Toyota Camrys)

 The Go! Team – Rolling Blackouts (Honestly, who gives a shit. News flash guys, it isn’t 2005.)

Cut Copy – Zonoscope (Excited about this one, they usually make me smile and feel happy emotions.)

Yanni – Truth of Touch (Yanni is a beacon of light when all else is dark. I hear in this release he’s going to offer his take on the “chillwave” genre, seamlessly meshing it with progressive rock.)

Mogwai – Hardcore will never die, but you will (Sadly, I fall behind on these guys’ output by about a year. Once I hear the album, I’m upset I didn’t get to it earlier. That will change this year.)

Bright Eyes – The People’s Key (Oh good I need music to sob uncontrollably to)

Heidi Spencer – Under Streetlight Glow (Heidi and Spencer are some of the most imaginative musicians around today, on par with Karlheinz Stockhausen’s experiments involving helicopters.)

Battles – TBA (I promise I’ll see them when they get to NYC. Nothing will prevent this from happening this time.)

Beastie Boys – Hot Sauce Committee Part II (Ah, five years must have passed.)

Culture Club – TBA (Do you really want to hurt me?)

Fleet Foxes – TBA (To quote the Kool Aid Guy “Oh YEAH!”)

Hercules and the Love Affair – Blue Songs (I can’t express the emotion of pure joy I have upon telling this to you.)

Insane Clown Posse – The American Metaphysical Circus (In this release, the ICP follow-up on their “Miracles” questions. Various sources indicate that Godspeed You! Black Emperor will be their backup band, and Diplo have worked with them on mixing a few tracks. Shaggy 2 Dope states that they were inspired by John Barton Wolgamot’s poetry for the lyrical content.)

Justice – TBA (This will do justice to your face)

Ducktails – Arcade Dynamics (Yes, Chillwave is coming back, out of the cold, towards the light.)

The Strokes – TBA (Inspired by Interpol’s massive failure of a record, they wanted to fail colossally as well.)

Artists I want to have albums from:

Washed Out – Come on, you’ve released countless EPs. Get it together, stop doing Adult Swim bumps, and write roughly 10 songs.

Neon Indian – This year I heard countless people say how your album was ‘the album of 2010’ even though it came out in 09. Wouldn’t it be nice to school those kids with even more infectious noise pop?

Joy Orbison – Your EPs are sick, absolutely massive. If you released an album, I promise to listen to it day and night for a month. Not a good month, mind you, like April or something.

Games – Each EP brings you a little closer. Unlike a lot of EP releasing people, I don’t think you’re blue-balling me. I sincerely believe you’ll deliver on your promise. 

Deerhunter – I’ll see a release from you this year because that’s how you roll. 

Black Dice – Something needs to come out of you guys. “Repo” did not do it for me. You must restore my faith in abrasive noise. 2010 didn’t have enough good noise; correct that problem by next year.

The Samps – Thoroughly enjoyed your EP. Put out an album and I’m certain I’ll drool over it.

Outer Limits Recordings – Your songs are still stuck in my head. Get them out with new material. PS, I like your style and will dress up as you for Halloween if you do come out with an album.

Unouomedude – Florida dude, you are so the man. Your music reminds me of summer bonfires on the beach.

Weed – Adore this sound. Create more of it. The EP never left my head.

Additionally, I also hope for world peace.