Sunday, October 6, 2024

The Gathering of the Juggalos 2014

The Scoop on the Gathering
from a Juggalo Convert

By Saul Jacobs

By the standards of some, I could be considered a music aficionado. Having borne witness to legendary performances from the Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan, and even Indian sitar savant Ravi Shankaar, I’ve conquered my concert bucket list. But the vista from my concert list’s summit made apparent just how much of this bucket list was socially contrived, guided by that abstract omnipresent behemoth responsible for dictating pop culture in America: media. Wandering along the path through the corporate media-driven pop-culture jungle, I was blind to the musical prowess of one group: the Insane Clown Posse.

I traveled to the 15th annual Gathering of the Juggalos (as ICP followers are called) with little knowledge, and really, scant expectations, of what lay ahead. I figured it best to show up with an open mind, but at times beforehand I felt myself straining to ignore the media-painted image of Juggalos as makeup-caked degenerates hungry for property damage.

The drive from Toledo to Columbus was a short jaunt compared to the thousand mile pilgrimages made by some ICP followers. Arriving at the campground, I quickly realized that, from toddlers to grown adults, Juggalos are a tribe of regular people. The ICP following consists of hard-working, law-abiding Americans, a far cry from their “hybrid gang” designation at the hands of the FBI.

This was like no other music festival that I have attended. It was, in fact, more tame than most.There were no hoards of drug dealers sweeping through the campgrounds, and concert goers weren’t feverishly consuming every mind-altering substance known to man. It felt more like a family reunion. People were just happy to see other members of their Juggalo family. Throughout the weekend, I heard several chants of “family” rising from the crowd. And though I was an obvious newcomer, I never felt like an outsider. The Gathering radiated an unmistakable feeling of acceptance. There’s no judgment; if you show up, you belong.

And from Tech N9ne to Cypress Hill, the week’s music was a polished showcase of the type of niche hip hop that ICP is known for. Several times I spotted DJ Paul (of Three-Six Mafia) strolling the campground, an apt illustration of the blurred lines that usually delineate artist, crew member, and event patron.

Though the entire festival exists to spotlight the Insane Clown Posse, the group’s sole performance took place on the party’s last day. In contrast to other festival’s orchestrated by and arranged as a showcase for a single act (a notable example being Camp Bisco, put on by the jamtronica band the Disco Biscuits, is one where the headliner band plays one show the first day, two on the second day, and three shows to close out the event), ICP’s appearance as the final act created a growing sense of anticipation throughout the Gathering.

"I liken the experience to a twisted baptism. The free-flying soda pop created a sticky-but-sweet bond uniting all Juggalos, rookies and veterans alike."


As an ICP virgin, I didn’t understand this act, the draw of the Gathering. The people were nice and the music was good, but I hadn’t yet seen the element that brought these people together as a family. As the sun set on the fourth and final day, a different energy swept across the gathering. The Dark Carnival was set to begin. The crowd roared to life as Shaggy and Violent J, the Juggalos that comprise ICP, bounded across the stage. The music dropped and the Faygo popped. The duo began launching two liters of Faygo Root Beer hundreds of feet in the air, unloading a good several hundred bottles throughout the show. I liken the experience to a twisted baptism. The free-flying soda pop created a sticky-but-sweet bond uniting all Juggalos, rookies and veterans alike. Everyone may not agree with all of the lyrics (who ever does?), but the beat is undeniable and would likely compel even the staunchest right-wing, god-fearing, conservatives to tap their feet. (And maybe, with enough Faygo, some head bobbing.) The show kicked into high gear when a tanker truck, carrying several thousand gallons of Faygo, backed up to the stage. When Violent J proceeded to douse the crowd in the sugary beverage with a firehose, everyone uproariously revisited their own special memory of going to Disney World (or some such place) for the first time. Rarely do you see so many happy strangers.

This was the oddly ethereal experience that created and adhered the Juggalo culture. The feeling of acceptance and understanding that gave rise to this special gathering came to the surface, the feeling that this was the Juggalo Shangri-La. The Insane Clown Posse offers refuge to those that struggle to find solace in the music flowing from our television and radio stations. It’s a marginalized community, but make no mistake: there’s nothing to fear. If you consider yourself an open-minded person but harbor an unflinching negative opinion of ICP and it’s devout Juggalos, get closer. I reexamined my media-nurtured negative opinion of ICP when I summoned the gumption to make the trip to the Gathering. So if you’re curious, make your way to a show and don’t fear the Faygo (it washes right out, trust me). This is a fascinating countercultural subset that we could all learn a few things from. A Juggalo convert after my first Faygo drenched ICP show, I can truly say that I am down with the clown. As the Juggalo call goes, “Whoop Whoop!”

 

The Scoop on the Gathering
from a Juggalo Convert

By Saul Jacobs

By the standards of some, I could be considered a music aficionado. Having borne witness to legendary performances from the Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan, and even Indian sitar savant Ravi Shankaar, I’ve conquered my concert bucket list. But the vista from my concert list’s summit made apparent just how much of this bucket list was socially contrived, guided by that abstract omnipresent behemoth responsible for dictating pop culture in America: media. Wandering along the path through the corporate media-driven pop-culture jungle, I was blind to the musical prowess of one group: the Insane Clown Posse.

I traveled to the 15th annual Gathering of the Juggalos (as ICP followers are called) with little knowledge, and really, scant expectations, of what lay ahead. I figured it best to show up with an open mind, but at times beforehand I felt myself straining to ignore the media-painted image of Juggalos as makeup-caked degenerates hungry for property damage.

The drive from Toledo to Columbus was a short jaunt compared to the thousand mile pilgrimages made by some ICP followers. Arriving at the campground, I quickly realized that, from toddlers to grown adults, Juggalos are a tribe of regular people. The ICP following consists of hard-working, law-abiding Americans, a far cry from their “hybrid gang” designation at the hands of the FBI.

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This was like no other music festival that I have attended. It was, in fact, more tame than most.There were no hoards of drug dealers sweeping through the campgrounds, and concert goers weren’t feverishly consuming every mind-altering substance known to man. It felt more like a family reunion. People were just happy to see other members of their Juggalo family. Throughout the weekend, I heard several chants of “family” rising from the crowd. And though I was an obvious newcomer, I never felt like an outsider. The Gathering radiated an unmistakable feeling of acceptance. There’s no judgment; if you show up, you belong.

And from Tech N9ne to Cypress Hill, the week’s music was a polished showcase of the type of niche hip hop that ICP is known for. Several times I spotted DJ Paul (of Three-Six Mafia) strolling the campground, an apt illustration of the blurred lines that usually delineate artist, crew member, and event patron.

Though the entire festival exists to spotlight the Insane Clown Posse, the group’s sole performance took place on the party’s last day. In contrast to other festival’s orchestrated by and arranged as a showcase for a single act (a notable example being Camp Bisco, put on by the jamtronica band the Disco Biscuits, is one where the headliner band plays one show the first day, two on the second day, and three shows to close out the event), ICP’s appearance as the final act created a growing sense of anticipation throughout the Gathering.

"I liken the experience to a twisted baptism. The free-flying soda pop created a sticky-but-sweet bond uniting all Juggalos, rookies and veterans alike."


As an ICP virgin, I didn’t understand this act, the draw of the Gathering. The people were nice and the music was good, but I hadn’t yet seen the element that brought these people together as a family. As the sun set on the fourth and final day, a different energy swept across the gathering. The Dark Carnival was set to begin. The crowd roared to life as Shaggy and Violent J, the Juggalos that comprise ICP, bounded across the stage. The music dropped and the Faygo popped. The duo began launching two liters of Faygo Root Beer hundreds of feet in the air, unloading a good several hundred bottles throughout the show. I liken the experience to a twisted baptism. The free-flying soda pop created a sticky-but-sweet bond uniting all Juggalos, rookies and veterans alike. Everyone may not agree with all of the lyrics (who ever does?), but the beat is undeniable and would likely compel even the staunchest right-wing, god-fearing, conservatives to tap their feet. (And maybe, with enough Faygo, some head bobbing.) The show kicked into high gear when a tanker truck, carrying several thousand gallons of Faygo, backed up to the stage. When Violent J proceeded to douse the crowd in the sugary beverage with a firehose, everyone uproariously revisited their own special memory of going to Disney World (or some such place) for the first time. Rarely do you see so many happy strangers.

This was the oddly ethereal experience that created and adhered the Juggalo culture. The feeling of acceptance and understanding that gave rise to this special gathering came to the surface, the feeling that this was the Juggalo Shangri-La. The Insane Clown Posse offers refuge to those that struggle to find solace in the music flowing from our television and radio stations. It’s a marginalized community, but make no mistake: there’s nothing to fear. If you consider yourself an open-minded person but harbor an unflinching negative opinion of ICP and it’s devout Juggalos, get closer. I reexamined my media-nurtured negative opinion of ICP when I summoned the gumption to make the trip to the Gathering. So if you’re curious, make your way to a show and don’t fear the Faygo (it washes right out, trust me). This is a fascinating countercultural subset that we could all learn a few things from. A Juggalo convert after my first Faygo drenched ICP show, I can truly say that I am down with the clown. As the Juggalo call goes, “Whoop Whoop!”

 

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