What the pop papers say: Legacy and stances

In a week when it's been announced that the entire NME readership is lower than the average home gate at Portsmouth, it's time to take one of our semi-regular dips into the magazine.

This week, it's another backward-looking issue - 20th anniversary of the Holy Bible, which is covered in depth, and actually feels like there's something still to say about a record. It helps when the LP has some depth to it. And as a one-off, irregular thing, why shouldn't you mark two decades since a band released something so rich?

Trouble is, they're trailing that next week will be a 20th anniversary issue again. This time of Oasis. The trailer line for that is a quote from Noel in 1994 saying that the album would be what will be remembered in 20 years' time, "not incidents on ferries or drug busts or whatever". Yeah, good luck with that, Noel out of Wibbling Rivalry.

It's not just the Manics' legacy that the issue has explored. There were other questions of history to be addressed, not least the NME's cover this week:

That @NME @Manics cover? That photo of Richey was a MELODY MAKER photo by Tom Sheehan. I was there. My idea. Fucking history-stealing fucks.

— Simon Price (@simon_price01) August 16, 2014

Price - understandably - was upset that there wasn't even mention of the Melody Maker's contribution to the history the one-time rival was rifling. He suggested a though experiment:

I'll never forget the time Richey cut 4 REAL into his arm in front of me as I was interviewing him for Melody Maker. How do like THAT, @NME?

— Simon Price (@simon_price01) August 16, 2014

A point well made, although... not everyone seemed to grasp it.

@David_C_Lewis @simon_price01 Doesn't Steve Lamacq also claim he was interviewing him when he did that? Said in a BBC doc on the Manics.

— Craig Brown (@sloan1874) August 16, 2014

Who knew, though, that the MM-NME war would still be raging this long after one of the flags was lowered for the last time? Even British communists would be surprised at the longevity of ill-will emanating from IPC veterans.

With this week's ABC figures suggesting that the print edition of NME might be reaching an event horizon, you'd have thought the team on the magazine would be taking more care about how they look after the work of former associates, lest one day an NME.com team thinks it's okay to, say, pass off the Brett Anderson and David Bowie photo as their legacy.

Elsewhere, there's good things for readers to explore - Laura Snapes uses a response in Sounding Off to raise the question of why Radio 1 didn't playlist La Roux on grounds that there's a lot of "female-fronted pop acts" competing for airtime. Yeah, 2014, and apparently there's still a quota for women to get onto formidable One FM.

Equally strong is Dan Stubbs call for Insane Clown Posse to either own or condemn the Juggalos:

If Juggalos behave like a gang, then Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope are their de facto leaders, whether they like it or not. And if violent crimes are being committed not just in their name, but in their honour, they need to issue a decree to the faithful telling them that it's simply not cool.

There's also a great piece on Howling Owl and how they've worked round a ban from Bristol venues. I'd have liked some more around how The Louisiana had ended up on the wrong side of scrappy pop history, but otherwise Hazel Sheffield had delivered a celebration of DIY culture that could have graced Maximum Rock & Roll. Or Punk Planet, at least.

There's a lot of heart and vibrancy in the NME at the moment, even though it's starting to get lost again in a sea of Uncut-lite jubilee articles. If they can channel that voice, and find a way to celebrate the past without just getting a Google alert that it's 20 years since X and choosing a cover based on that, there's a magazine worth fighting for there.

Insane Clown Posse launch legal fight for right to terrible, terrible taste

You might recall that a while back, the FBI looked at the Juggaloos, and decided that something was up. Rather than just being a bunch of dudes with questionable music taste and a surprising amount of time on their hands, the Feds saw a "loosely organized hybrid gang".

I know, viewed from almost anywhere this sounds a bit like the plot of a terrible movie. But in a terrible movie, the Juggaloos would bind together to fight off an alien invasion of the planet - having first tied up a balding, sneering FBI official and stolen his trousers - with the President declaring "we are all Jugaloos now" over the final reel. (You know what sucks? When this film gets made, it'll have to go for best adapated screenplay in The Oscars.)

However, life isn't a terrible movie. Life is much, much worse than that and so the Insane Clown Posse is instead going to sue the FBI.

They held a seminar to announce their plans.

I know, you're going 'am I reading that right? It sounded like the Insane Clown Posse held a seminar to announce an intention to sue a US Department of Justice agency'. That's actually it:

During the seminar, ICP's Violent J discussed how, at first, he didn't know how to respond to the FBI's accusations. But now, they've decided to pursue suing the FBI, "no matter what it costs or what it takes… The main fact is, we're not just layin' down and taking it up the ass." The tent erupted in cheers and chants of "Family," and many Juggalos started crying. As ICP's lawyer, friend, and longtime Juggalo, Ryan Farris said, "This is a family of love, this ain't no organized crime family."

To be fair to the FBI, Ryan, they did only call you loosely organised.

I'm not sure about Mr J's passive anal sex metaphor, to be honest - I can see what he was trying for, but I'm a bit lost as to how that metaphor carries forward; it could just imply that they're going to be a bit more of an active receiver. At this stage we just don't know. Perhaps it will all end in hugging.

While it's all a bit silly in abstract, there are claims that Insane Clown Posse fans are being unfairly treated simply because of their deep, deep love for terrible, terrible music:

One Juggalo, Shawn Wolf of Cottonwood, Arizona, burst into tears when ICP announced that they'd be helping out fans who have been profiled by police for their taste in music. Hugging a friend and saying, "You don't know how much this means to me." He explained that he'd lost custody of his young son solely because of his ICP fandom. "I've been a Juggalo since I was 16. The state of California flew to my house [to see if I was fit], and it's all ICP-decked out," he said. "Just because of that, I was kinda screwed."

Now, there's obviously no way of knowing if it's true that Wolf lost his son "solely" because of his posters and whatnot; it's impossible to say if it was even a factor. But if it was, that's clearly unacceptable; and it's to the Insane Clown Posse's credit that they're sticking up for their fans by supporting people who might have been singled out.

But is suing the FBI really the best solution here? That looks a little like belligerent grandstanding rather than trying to find a solution.

Supporting your fans who have been targeted is a good thing to do; exploiting them to build a myth and, thereby, sell more records, might be a bit of a misjudgement.

Juggalos a bug-a-boo for FBI

Tiresome fanbase of tiresome act, the Juggalos, have won official status as a gang. The FBI has upgraded the status of Insane Clown Posse fans from 'think of the children' to 'I think they're up to something':

Unfortunately for harmless fans of horrorcore rap, Juggalos are now officially "of concern to law enforcement," according to the FBI's 2011 National Gang Threat Assessment report. Juggalos have been tied to a string of recent crimes, including a shooting in January and the assault of a homeless man last year. "Open source reporting suggests that a small number of Juggalos are forming more organised subsets and engaging in more gang-like criminal activity," the report alleges. "Transient, criminal Juggalo groups pose a threat to communities due to the potential for violence, drug use/sales, and their general destructive and violent nature."

The Insane Clown Posse themselves have tried to distance themselves from people doing crimes under a Juggalo banner, and some Juggalos are even organising a petition to try and get the FBI to change their minds.

Although judging by how the state is reacting to Occupy Wall Street, organising yourself into a protest group to stand up to government isn't exactly going to win you many friends, either.

Insane Clown Posse prove an old adage true

Scientific evidence from the Detroit Free Press that you can't go bankrupt underestimating the public:

Amid a crummy Michigan economy and a crumbling music industry, ICP's achievement stands out. Enjoying the top revenues of its career, the group now commands an entertainment empire that pulls in up to $10 million annually: Wrestling exhibitions. An annual 20,000-person festival called the Gathering. Comic books. DVDs. A second feature film, "Big Money Rustlas," due in January. A twice-weekly Web radio show.

Ten million dollars every year. The Insane Clown Posse. And I've checked, they're not running a dry cleaners or anything on the side.

And they say the clowns are insane

The Insane Clown Posse are making a second film. Yes, a second one.

Presumably, the thinking is they might actually sell on DVD if they can be offered on a two-for-one deal.

Although it turns out the first movie has managed to gain platinum status for sales in the US. Which means, if you're one of our American readers, you might not own Big Money Hustlas. You might not know someone who owns it. But somebody you know certainly will know somebody who has it in their collection.