old_tim's review against another edition
4.0
Highly entertaining, and surprisingly insightful.
Full review to come.
Full review to come.
quietjenn's review against another edition
3.0
That Guy You Know From the Internet writes a book that sets out to be a deep examination of two maligned musical subcultures and ends up chronicling his own manboy identity crisis in the process. The sections on ICP are legitimately, super interesting and fascinating. Like, I am maybe even Down with the Clown at this point? Or, as much as you can be without ever wanting to actually listen to ICP or go to a gathering or anything. The Phish stuff, on the other hand ... uuuuuugh. There is nothing here to convince me that Phish/Phish's music/Phish fans are anything other than what I already thought that they were and there was so much eye-rolling as I read those chapters. the Phish stuff is also the crux of Rabin's metaphysical whatever - spurned by his love of a girl, of course - and just, no thanks, dude.
matthewcpeck's review against another edition
3.0
The AV Club and The Dissolve are are my favorite pop culture websites, and Nathan Rabin is the most reliably fascinating of their contributors. His self-effacement and sense of the ironic blends nicely with his affection for the flops, outcasts, and has-beens of our fragmented entertainment universe. This book is a mix of the sort of material found in Rabin's pop-culture columns, with a candid psychological memoir. It's a tad rough around the edges, but the rambling seems apt to narrative concerned largely with obsessively following Phish around on tour while under a fragile mental state. I recommend this book to fans of smart, hilarious, sincere (but hip) music journalism, and to readers of David Sedaris and John Jeremiah Sullivan.
csquared85's review against another edition
2.0
1.5 stars.
I came to this book having read some of Rabin's writing about the Gathering of the Juggalos and was informed of the existence of this book through NPR's best of 2013 widget. I liked Rabin's Juggalo article and thought a hybrid immersion journalism / sociological study of two reviled music subcultures would be interesting. And it kind of is, when Rabin is actually talking about the subcultures and doing some of that good old-fashioned journalism thing he ostensibly got paid to do.
You know what's NOT interesting in a sociological study? A drug memoir mixed with endless rambling about the author's love for his girlfriend. If I wanted to read your memoirs, buddy, I'd read the memoir YOU ALREADY PUBLISHED. The one that's marketed as a MEMOIR. There are few things I can imagine caring less about than some stranger's catalog of concert drug binges except maybe his endless declarations of love for a woman who is even more of a stranger. Practically ALL of the writing about Phish was more about Rabin's troubling recreational drug use than the band or its fans to the point where he acknowledges that other people's drug use is interesting only to the user, which - oops! - means you're probably pretty damn bored right now. This meta revelation is pretty much his most important insight about the band's fans. -_- To be honest, Phish's appeal isn't all that mysterious. As a diehard Dave Matthews Band fan, it's not much of a stretch for me to imagine what Phish fandom would be like and I think Rabin did them a huge disservice by conflating it so much with its drug culture. His portrayal of Juggalo culture was much more nuanced.
When you break it all down, it's only the ICP chapters that attempt a bit of critical journalism and that's maybe half the book. And in that half he quotes and analyzes ICP member Violent J's memoir Behind the Paint fairly often. I really didn't glean much more than what he originally wrote about the Gathering from his Onion AV Club article, so this was mostly a waste. But if you like to read endless, redundant descriptions of people tripping out on drugs during Phish shows, this will be right up your alley.
I came to this book having read some of Rabin's writing about the Gathering of the Juggalos and was informed of the existence of this book through NPR's best of 2013 widget. I liked Rabin's Juggalo article and thought a hybrid immersion journalism / sociological study of two reviled music subcultures would be interesting. And it kind of is, when Rabin is actually talking about the subcultures and doing some of that good old-fashioned journalism thing he ostensibly got paid to do.
You know what's NOT interesting in a sociological study? A drug memoir mixed with endless rambling about the author's love for his girlfriend. If I wanted to read your memoirs, buddy, I'd read the memoir YOU ALREADY PUBLISHED. The one that's marketed as a MEMOIR. There are few things I can imagine caring less about than some stranger's catalog of concert drug binges except maybe his endless declarations of love for a woman who is even more of a stranger. Practically ALL of the writing about Phish was more about Rabin's troubling recreational drug use than the band or its fans to the point where he acknowledges that other people's drug use is interesting only to the user, which - oops! - means you're probably pretty damn bored right now. This meta revelation is pretty much his most important insight about the band's fans. -_- To be honest, Phish's appeal isn't all that mysterious. As a diehard Dave Matthews Band fan, it's not much of a stretch for me to imagine what Phish fandom would be like and I think Rabin did them a huge disservice by conflating it so much with its drug culture. His portrayal of Juggalo culture was much more nuanced.
When you break it all down, it's only the ICP chapters that attempt a bit of critical journalism and that's maybe half the book. And in that half he quotes and analyzes ICP member Violent J's memoir Behind the Paint fairly often. I really didn't glean much more than what he originally wrote about the Gathering from his Onion AV Club article, so this was mostly a waste. But if you like to read endless, redundant descriptions of people tripping out on drugs during Phish shows, this will be right up your alley.
adammck's review against another edition
2.0
Disappointing. Rabin falters in the footsteps of many writers who have come before him to try to learn about strange tribes only, lo and behold, to learn a few things about themselves in the meantime.
[a:John Jeremiah Sullivan|22899|John Jeremiah Sullivan|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1321052260p2/22899.jpg]'s "Upon This Rock" exists in a similar space, although it's a mere feature story focusing on Christian rock festivals. I thought it was more insightful and entertaining than our current subject - but I never really thought "This needs to be a book!" And it's not a book. "You Don't Know Me," however, IS a book.
How to bump that page count? To tell the backstory of Insane Clown Posse for the benefit of anyone without Wikipedia access, Rabin goes into book report mode on Violent J's amazing-sounding memoir [b:Behind the Paint|2111140|Behind the Paint|Violent J|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1250923226s/2111140.jpg|2116545]. He lapses into blow-by-blow show reviews that feel like 80-year-old newspaper clippings in the Age of Twitter and aren't necessary to the story (no offense, Tom Green and The Iron Sheik). He describes Violent J's Nixonian tendencies, then, only several pages later, describes Violent J's Nixonian tendencies.
The good stuff: when Rabin tells the stories of his fellow travelers and charts his own shifting relationships with the two bands. No need to be a fan of either band to enjoy this stuff.
Profound discoveries by adventure's end? Well... how many ICP shows does one have to attend to arrive at the monumental conclusion that many Juggalos are just latchkey kids in need of family and a pleasant escape? That this need for acceptance + community + GOOD TIMES is something that links fans of Slayer and Bieber and Phish and ICP?
Apparently a lot of shows.
Mostly, though, the page count is inflated not by difficult questions (to what extent does a tough upbringing excuse boorish behavior? to what extent can a male critic overlook or even romanticize misogynistic BS at festivals as long as he's accompanied by an intellectual and independent woman who seems unaffected by it? how far should these pop-up Hamsterdams be able to push the envelope while enjoying unspoken cooperation from law enforcement?) but by Rabin focusing on Rabin, leading to a lot of overwrought passages about light and darkness and so forth. This is a pop culture writer - and a quite good one - who's ALREADY written a memoir. He's candid about his reasons for changing his approach from fly-on-wall to me-me-me. In my opinion, it was a mistake.
Final question: is the atrocious cover art - seemingly custom-made for the Bargain Books rack at Barnes & Noble - a clever statement on the danger of judging books (or fanbases) by outside appearances?
[a:John Jeremiah Sullivan|22899|John Jeremiah Sullivan|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1321052260p2/22899.jpg]'s "Upon This Rock" exists in a similar space, although it's a mere feature story focusing on Christian rock festivals. I thought it was more insightful and entertaining than our current subject - but I never really thought "This needs to be a book!" And it's not a book. "You Don't Know Me," however, IS a book.
How to bump that page count? To tell the backstory of Insane Clown Posse for the benefit of anyone without Wikipedia access, Rabin goes into book report mode on Violent J's amazing-sounding memoir [b:Behind the Paint|2111140|Behind the Paint|Violent J|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1250923226s/2111140.jpg|2116545]. He lapses into blow-by-blow show reviews that feel like 80-year-old newspaper clippings in the Age of Twitter and aren't necessary to the story (no offense, Tom Green and The Iron Sheik). He describes Violent J's Nixonian tendencies, then, only several pages later, describes Violent J's Nixonian tendencies.
The good stuff: when Rabin tells the stories of his fellow travelers and charts his own shifting relationships with the two bands. No need to be a fan of either band to enjoy this stuff.
Profound discoveries by adventure's end? Well... how many ICP shows does one have to attend to arrive at the monumental conclusion that many Juggalos are just latchkey kids in need of family and a pleasant escape? That this need for acceptance + community + GOOD TIMES is something that links fans of Slayer and Bieber and Phish and ICP?
Apparently a lot of shows.
Mostly, though, the page count is inflated not by difficult questions (to what extent does a tough upbringing excuse boorish behavior? to what extent can a male critic overlook or even romanticize misogynistic BS at festivals as long as he's accompanied by an intellectual and independent woman who seems unaffected by it? how far should these pop-up Hamsterdams be able to push the envelope while enjoying unspoken cooperation from law enforcement?) but by Rabin focusing on Rabin, leading to a lot of overwrought passages about light and darkness and so forth. This is a pop culture writer - and a quite good one - who's ALREADY written a memoir. He's candid about his reasons for changing his approach from fly-on-wall to me-me-me. In my opinion, it was a mistake.
Final question: is the atrocious cover art - seemingly custom-made for the Bargain Books rack at Barnes & Noble - a clever statement on the danger of judging books (or fanbases) by outside appearances?
courtney_mcallister's review against another edition
2.0
Finishing this book gives me a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Now that I've read all of it, I can critique it!
First of all, there's a conspicuous lack of structure in You Don't Know Me. There's no framing mechanism to establish WHY Rabin is focusing on these two particular musical groups. Rather, it seems like an arbitrary pairing that reflects the tastes of his sweetheart. Dating someone who loves two different bands is not a solid premise for a pseudo-ethnographic exploration of music sub-cultures.
Speaking of sub-cultures, Rabin makes no attempt to take account of the differences between Phish's fan culture and that of ICP. Both can be analyzed as sub-cultures, but ICP is more staunchly associated with counter-culture. Its oppositional ideology can't be conflated with Phish's groove-centered fandom. Although Rabin seems to position himself as a pop culture critic turned ethnographer, there isn't enough substance, context, or structural integrity to make these rambling observations coherent.
There are some interesting moments, but the author's lack of reflexivity hampers even the best passages. For example, Rabin notes the sense of melancholy that seems to permeate music festivals and their participants. Unfortunately, he doesn't offer any insight into the existential quandary of outsiders/disaffected individuals finding solidarity through an ephemeral concretization of fandom. I was also put off by the flippant manner in which Rabin dismisses troubling aspects of Juggalo behavior, such as the blatant objectification of women. While attending a Gathering, he notes the frequent incidents of men asking/commanding women to bare their flesh, but writes it off as a playful quirk. Unacceptable, Mr. Rabin. You're better than that.
First of all, there's a conspicuous lack of structure in You Don't Know Me. There's no framing mechanism to establish WHY Rabin is focusing on these two particular musical groups. Rather, it seems like an arbitrary pairing that reflects the tastes of his sweetheart. Dating someone who loves two different bands is not a solid premise for a pseudo-ethnographic exploration of music sub-cultures.
Speaking of sub-cultures, Rabin makes no attempt to take account of the differences between Phish's fan culture and that of ICP. Both can be analyzed as sub-cultures, but ICP is more staunchly associated with counter-culture. Its oppositional ideology can't be conflated with Phish's groove-centered fandom. Although Rabin seems to position himself as a pop culture critic turned ethnographer, there isn't enough substance, context, or structural integrity to make these rambling observations coherent.
There are some interesting moments, but the author's lack of reflexivity hampers even the best passages. For example, Rabin notes the sense of melancholy that seems to permeate music festivals and their participants. Unfortunately, he doesn't offer any insight into the existential quandary of outsiders/disaffected individuals finding solidarity through an ephemeral concretization of fandom. I was also put off by the flippant manner in which Rabin dismisses troubling aspects of Juggalo behavior, such as the blatant objectification of women. While attending a Gathering, he notes the frequent incidents of men asking/commanding women to bare their flesh, but writes it off as a playful quirk. Unacceptable, Mr. Rabin. You're better than that.
hrc333's review against another edition
5.0
To confess, I'm a Phish fan and picked up the book because of this. (I even have an unnamed cameo in the book.) The book is a fun read of a person outside the Phish scene trying to find his way on tour and making some funny and questionable choices along the way. But in general I think it does a good job of giving one a feel for what it is like to tour with Phish, if you didn't know anyone. But most of us who do tour with Phish have a huge circle of friends that dramatically changes the experience. And this is entirely lacking from the authors account and this missed what is one of the essential elements of tour.
As for the ICP sections, I found them interesting at first but by the end I just don't think feel the same way the author does. He comes to romanticize ICP and Juggalos but his argument for doing so is weak at best. While I agree that ICP is a sense of identity for many, it is unclear that they have a positive influence in the lives of Juggalos. Sure they provide a sense of family for people who come from very broken and dysfunctional families. But in the end it seems like you are trading one dysfunctional family for another dysfunctional family. I just am not sure I agree that this is some admirable.
But the book is carried by the authors ability to tell a good story. And in the end, Phish tour and the Juggalos are just that, a good story.
As for the ICP sections, I found them interesting at first but by the end I just don't think feel the same way the author does. He comes to romanticize ICP and Juggalos but his argument for doing so is weak at best. While I agree that ICP is a sense of identity for many, it is unclear that they have a positive influence in the lives of Juggalos. Sure they provide a sense of family for people who come from very broken and dysfunctional families. But in the end it seems like you are trading one dysfunctional family for another dysfunctional family. I just am not sure I agree that this is some admirable.
But the book is carried by the authors ability to tell a good story. And in the end, Phish tour and the Juggalos are just that, a good story.
patthebook's review against another edition
2.0
I’d probably give it a 2.5. I’m sure this is a very important book to the author given the life changes he chronicles (sort of) within, but it’s repetitive and not as descriptive in key areas as it should be.
It’s like a dirtbag Cameron Crowe story. Let that be your guide.
It’s like a dirtbag Cameron Crowe story. Let that be your guide.
jessferg's review against another edition
3.0
This was fun to read as an "insider" on one side and "outsider" on the other. Interesting juxtapositions and connections. I didn't find Rabin's personal experiences too relevant, really, but they aren't necessarily intrusive.
I can see this as a "Phish/ICP 101" course which might turn some folks off, but this is a fun book for anyone who just loves a crazy music scene.
I can see this as a "Phish/ICP 101" course which might turn some folks off, but this is a fun book for anyone who just loves a crazy music scene.