How many icp songs are there

According to Nielsen SoundScan, the entire catalog of the group has sold 6. The group has established a dedicated following called Juggalos numbering in the "tens of thousands". Originally known as JJ Boyz and Inner City Posse, the group introduced supernatural- and horror-themed lyrics as a means of distinguishing itself stylistically.

They formed their own professional wrestling promotion, Juggalo Championship Wrestling, and later collaborated with many hip hop and rock musicians. Although the first half of the album bears a little too much of a resemblance to Korn's disappointing output of the early s, the consistency of the second half of Hell's Pit makes it one of ICP's stronger offerings.

Mike E Clark directs a marked shift away from the narrative-driven rap that dominated most of ICP's career to this point, pushing it toward pop-first songwriting which has always been J and Shaggy's biggest strength. The closest thing to a primer on ICP's eclectic career, almost every song on B!

Standout Track: The video for "Miracles" made it the butt of a lot of jokes, but the song itself is an excellent interpretation of early '90s acid house that is better than anyone wants to admit. The Marvelous Missing Link: Found Distinctly influenced by Rick James and Prince, the same production team that engineered the aggression of Lost create a package of saccharine, ambient beats that significantly better suit J and Shaggy's renewed silliness.

Unapologetically upbeat, Found finds the Clowns embrace New Atlanta and Chicago progressive pop rap to their benefit. Standout Track: Insane Clown Posse have a lot of hilariously idiotic songs, but the bouncy, mid-'90s, East Coast rap-inspired "I Fucked a Cop" may be the most hilariously idiotic of them all.

The Wraith The first Insane Clown Posse album without Mike E Clark who stepped away due to health issues , Mike Puwal's festive, wall-of-sound production is a strong complement to ICP's newly positive, community focused lyrics.

Firmly planted in rap-rock and significantly heavier than other ICP albums to date, The Wraith is an upbeat party of varied, maximalist production reminiscent of the best parts of Jeckel Brothers with an aggressively triumphant bent.

The Mighty Death Pop! Insane Clown Posse usually deliver their death-first subject matter through a veneer of cartoonish ultra-violence that puts it in the world of tongue-in-cheek self-parody. This is not the case with the distinctly melancholic The Mighty Death Pop!

Clark's clean, Detroit techno and dark ambient-flavored production suit J and Shaggy's tales of people driven to sudden, early deaths, with poppy palette cleansers providing welcome distraction.

Death Pop! Standout Track: The title track is one of the best disco tracks written in many years. The Amazing Jeckel Brothers Sounds Like: The best Beastie Boys album ever written. Insane Clown Posse have arrived. The Amazing Jeckel Brothers sees a distinctive shift in songwriting away from the meandering narrative rap of the first four albums toward tight pop arrangements which suit their bombast remarkably better. Familiar rap elements are beefed up with significantly more nuance thanks to Mike E Clark's meticulous production and guitarist Legz Diamond's tasteful flourishes, and the album is allowed to breathe with genuinely funny skits and high profile features from Snoop Dogg and Ol' Dirty Bastard.

We'll send you a newsletter with what you need to know every week. Photo: Brent Humphreys. To get an idea of what Juggalo heaven would look like, you must burrow through deep woods to an isolated campground at Cave-In Rock, an aptly named village near the Illinois-Kentucky border.

After several long, desolate stretches of road, all tethers to the outside world start to break away: Cell phone bars shrivel to mere nubs, like an unfinished game of hangman. Luckily, to find the Gathering of the Juggalos, all you need to do is listen for the whoops. They can be heard from the edges of the campsite and come in three varieties:. It usually denotes a special occasion, such as a Psychopathic artist walking through the crowd or a woman removing her top.

Despite the constant auditory stimuli, the Gathering is, in some ways, aggressively mellow. This is a bit of a revelation, given that an ICP-sponsored documentary, A Family Underground , portrays the event as a cavalcade of backyard wrestling brawls and partial nudity. These do exist, as does an open narcotics market, called the Bridge, where revelers peddle everything from pot to ecstasy to coke the park is private property, so no cops are allowed.

And things get more ominous at night, when the combination of drugs, face paint, and rented wheels turns the Gathering of the Juggalos into something resembling a Cormac McCarthy-designed game of Mario Kart.

But at times the event is downright family-friendly. During the day, Bruce emcees a Beach Boys-themed dance party. Entire families line up to get ICP jerseys and even pregnant bellies signed at the autograph tent, while Juggalos cavort on a dock atop a body of water so nasty-looking that it's been dubbed Lake Hepatitis. And of course there's the music, with artists like Naughty by Nature and Warren G plus the occasional throwback like Vanilla Ice or stand-up comic Gallagher performing late into the night.

Despite a sizable population of female fans dubbed Juggalettes , ICP's following is made up mostly of young white men from working-class backgrounds. They tend to feel that they've been misunderstood outsiders their whole lives, whether for being overweight, looking weird, being poor, or even for just liking ICP in the first place.

It's a world where man boobs are on proud display, where long-hairs and pink-hairs mingle, where nobody makes fun of the fat kid toweling off near Lake Hepatitis. For them, the Gathering is a place they can be accepted, a feeling reinforced by the constant chants of the Juggalo credo "Fam-uh-LEE! Like most Juggalos, Wolff and Lewter began listening to ICP as teenagers, and anyone perplexed by the band's continued success would do well to recall just how alienating those years can be.

Bruce and Utsler haven't forgotten this pain. It's an image ICP pushes constantly, pimping otherness with its "Most Hated Band" T-shirts and middle-of-nowhere confab, and it's undoubtedly the single biggest factor in ICP's success.

With so many artists pitching a lifestyle of aspirational fabulosity, ICP extols the virtue of average-shmo egalitarianism, even if the actual ICP members don't live an entirely down-and-out life these days.

Put all of these outsiders together with a heaping dose of us-versus-them and you have a tried-and-true formula for creating an insular subculture—just ask any tea-partyer. And at the Gathering there really is a sense of unity. Until there isn't. Throughout the day, there were rumors that Tequila was going to be attacked by the crowd—despite Bruce and Utsler asking everyone to leave her alone. Yet within minutes of taking the stage, Tequila is pelted with debris, chairs, and even feces from an outhouse.

She removes her top, hoping to win over the crowd, but is forced, after being bloodied, into a retreat. Why was Tequila persecuted while the likes of Vanilla Ice were cheered?

It's hard to say. Others see her presence as evidence that the mainstream—after years of not caring about what the Juggalos did out here in the woods—is intruding upon the Gathering, either to poke fun at it or to figure out how to market to it. But the truth is, for the ICP formula to work there has to be a "them"—and in this case, them is an admittedly grating but thoroughly harmless publicity seeker, one who maybe acts a little too much like the girl who wouldn't date you in high school.

The incident presents an interesting dilemma for ICP, especially as its profile increases: The Gathering is intended as an open-tent party; in fact, that all-inclusiveness might be its biggest draw, greater even than the music and the drugs. So what happens when the crowd gets too unruly? If Bruce and Utsler start telling Juggalos what they can and can't do, they risk coming off like just another set of uncaring adults. Bruce waves off such concerns.

Just because he and Utsler created the Juggalos doesn't mean they have the power to control them. We pass through the city's southwest neighborhoods, where ICP—then called Inner City Posse—got its start in the early '90s.

With each block, the urban landscape becomes more grim: A brand-new chain pharmacy gives way to homes that have been hollowed out by fire, leaving behind nothing but piles of rubble and a few brick walls. As we drive, rare Michael Jackson ballads trickle from Bruce's car stereo, part of his massive MJ archive. We eventually end up at the entrance to Zug Island, an industrial atoll in the middle of the Detroit River owned and operated by US Steel.

There's a "No Trespassing" sign on the bridge, but we cross it without trouble, arriving at an acrid-smelling stretch of land with dunes of coal and twisted metal intestines that stretch across a skyline of egg-white smoke. They met as teenagers in the surrounding suburbs. Both had difficult upbringings, and their fathers left their family when they were young.

It turned out to fuck me up in the long run. Bruce's childhood was arguably worse. In Behind the Paint , he details how his father left with his family's money, forcing them to subsist on welfare.

He and his siblings were then sexually abused by their first stepfather. After becoming friends, Bruce and Utsler would come to Southwest Detroit to hang out, eventually moving here after dropping out of high school.