2014’s imitation velvet curtain is falling, but I’m so hip to the stir I’m only just now thinking about the end of 2013. Don’t even try to be me you’ll fucking explode. My vibe is a veritable war in heaven; a prototype for the confessions of an immortal being. Do these esoteric turns of phrase mask my middling self-esteem good? Last year was the Year of The Clown, little doubt. I wanted to know everything about Insane Clown Posse’s fandom culture after my brother-son and photo-dog partner in crime-jazz Nic Bezzina showed me the lovely ladies of Passed Out Juggalos. I spent months tracking these girls down for Vice. Months. Being that I’m in Sydney AU and they’re collectively spread out across Sacramento and Kentucky in the US, hey: Months. “Toby, why can’t you put that kind of journalistic verve into, I don’t know, important local issues?” Because naked clown babes, mother. It did not stop there. After establishing myself as a goddamn lunatic, The Year of the Clown would lead me into an interview with Violent J for FasterLouder and culminate in a really, really badly behaved attendance of Insane Clown Posse’s show at The Hi-Fi in Sydney for Noisey. Hi, skinny blonde chick with the glasses I got sticky with up the front? Good jive.
She’s incredible, unforgettable, undeniable, breath-taking
Furious, she’s so mysterious, I’m curious
No I don’t know how my partner puts up with my shit, either. First up: Meet the Girls Who Are Terrorizing Juggalos with Their Perfect Asses. This was also translated to the French, which gave a ton of bewildered French peeps on Twitter the impression that I am also French, a falsehood I’m still awkwardly running with to this day. Salut, oui, pee-pee, please let this conversation end-jour.
Next: Learning to Love Insane Clown Posse; “the most hated band in the world.” This went out for FasterLouder waaay later in the year ahead of ICP’s first Australian tour in ten years (!). I mentioned the POJ girls to Violent J, to which he replied: “Buncha hotties, yeah. I’ll show ‘em some appreciation alright.”
Lastly but not leastly, things came to a greasepaint head with: Sydney’s Insane Clown Posse Fans Are Unexpectedly Polite. Yeah, not my headline. I talked a lot more about the dude I snapped throwing up into a bin. No one understands me, but I wanted to understand Juggalos and Juggalettes. You know that thing about book covers and actually reading the book and shit? Forrealism.
PS. I’ve been listening to Hate Her to Death this whole time.
Peace & woops,