You Don't Know Me but You Don't Like Me: Phish, Insane Clown Posse, and My Misadventures with Two of Music's Most Maligned Tribes

If you’re not the kind of person who consumes film/media reviews on a regular basis, you may not know the name Nathan Rabin, and that’s a shame. Rabin got his start on the AV Club website, and quickly developed a style all of his own, with a combination of snark, appreciation for trash, self-awareness, and love of the forgotten bits of film lore that his pieces became a regular read for me, with his memoir The Big Rewind being a standout that I really loved. Even if you’ve never read him, you may have heard the term “manic pixie dream girl,” which has become shorthand for a certain type of female role in romantic comedies.All of which to say, I was already a fan of Rabin’s, but despite having his book You Don’t Know Me But You Don’t Like Me for quite a while, I just wasn’t that motivated to get into it, and that’s for the very reasons that Rabin wrote the book. It’s hard not to have preconceived notions about fans of Phish or the Insane Clown Posse. and even as I know those are probably unfair stereotypes and assumptions, they’re fandoms that I never really felt like I needed to look into.That, of course, is the very reason for the book’s title and, indeed, its existence. Well, that and Rabin’s own life crises, which found him struggling in a variety of ways, all of which find their way into the book. What starts as an effort to write a book about two fandoms scorned by so many became something more personal, as Rabin came to understand both and even find a home within them, giving him some sense of self that he’d been lacking.That’s not to say that Rabin’s not still funny and full of sharp writing; while You Don’t Know Me… undeniably has more material that’s heartfelt and honest, it’s also dryly witty about so much that he sees at these concerts and groups, giving ironic commentaries that both bring out the absurdity of all of it but never judges those who participate in good faith. Fox News hosts who bring judgment and scorn, or celebrities who think they’re above the events they’re appearing at? Oh, they get Rabin’s judgement and then some. But beyond that, You Don’t Know Me… is a humane look at both groups, looking at them from the lens first of an outsider with an open mind, and then from the view of a convert trying to convey his love for something.And honestly, that love is understandable. When Rabin writes about the bliss he feels during some Phish concert, or tries to explain the sense of family that rejects and outcasts can find at an ICP show, you can’t help but find the beauty in it all, and honestly, even wish that you could enjoy it a bit. (Indeed, part of what finally motivated me to read the book was a recent comment on a podcast I listen to, in which the host discussed how much he loved the book, and then he turned on a Phish song mentioned in the book to experience it, and just wished he could see what Rabin found in it.) Rabin has always been a man who loves the oddities and outcasts of the media world, and his empathy with Juggalos and Phish fans is predictable; what’s effective, though, is his ability to convey just what makes them successful, and how meaningful they are to people – not as media, but as a sense of belonging.Rabin’s book is undeniably one of self-destructive behavior and some less than great choices (there’s more than a bit of Hunter S. Thompson excess here, and knowing that Rabin’s career was about to take some turns, it’s not hard to wonder if some of this was tied to the reasons why). But it’s also honest, heartfelt, witty, and empathetic – all the things that drew me to his writing in the first place. (Admittedly, I wish he spent a little more time interrogating some of the treatment women seem to receive at The Gathering of the Juggalos, as it feels like he finds it less off-putting than it felt to me.) And if it’s as much a book about a mental crisis as it is fandom, well, that only increases those aspects. It’s a book that asks us to evaluate our own assumptions about people, and that’s something I think we all need more of, if we’re being honest with ourselves.

I felt like I was there! I was an ICP fan/ juggalette in my early teens but then became a Phish phan, so this book was a great perspective for me!

I guess my first question for you is, why not read it? Let's be honest, you don't have a lot going on in your life that's more important than reading a book. Can't squeeze a few hundred pages in between DVR'd episodes of The Voice and your precious Big Bang Theory reruns on TBS? Come on, jack, you can't fool me."But oh, I have to tend to my children" you say exasperated, as if you were unaware of the full weight of child-rearing before you undertook the miraculous but demanding task of bringing life into the world. Well did you really think it all through? I trust you did. And since you did, you must have set aside some you time, time to collect your thoughts and reconnect with yourself. Well then, why not read this book? Rabin undergoes an almost spiritual journey that leads him back to himself, so perhaps there are aspects of the book you can identify with. The crying child can wait a few minutes. It's not going anywhere."But geez, I have too much dang homework!" Oh, dear student, I was not born yesterday. You know as well as I do that you will put off your scholarly tasks as long as possible if it means one more hour of Call of Duty or a hog-cranking-sesh during the precious minutes your roommate is out trying to score weed from one of the dishwashers in the cafeteria. Doesn't he know there are easier ways to--forget it. Anyway, instead of your disgusting self-indulgence, why not read this book? Why not take a mind journey with some word friends? You might discover new things about yourself, just as our esteemed author did."But I'm too tired from work. I just want a drink and some relaxation." You scum, you cog in the machine. Put down your toxins and enrich your mind, or whatever's left of it after the dead-eyed-nine-to-five incurred atrophy. Shame on you. Read a book.Anyway it was pretty good! ICP stuff was way stronger than the Phish material but overall it was a good read and an interesting window into these subcultures.

First off the bias - I have loved Nathan Rabin's writing since I started reading the My Year of Flops columns. He's honest, hilarious and penetrating. Furthermore, he has a major bias against the "everything sucks" dynamic that seems to dominate popular criticism. As much as we like to think that we left that Holden Caulfield inspired smugness behind in high school (or at very least college) approximately 90% of all popular criticism is about coming up with new ways of saying that something sucked. Whether it's a writer blogging about how much he hated Les Miserables when he was dragged there by his wife or Michael Medved before he went on his crusade against violence in movies, the dominant voice in criticism is a free floating hostility. And while Rabin has his share of columns that eviscerate the subject matter (I particularly love his anti-Shmuley Boteach article) he is always trying to find the joy in pop culture.This book has many of the things that I enjoy about Rabin. He can be hilariously urbane but also is valiantly putting aside his original biases to understand why there are Phish fans and Juggalos and admiring the lack of self-consciousness that comes with these subcultures.The main problem comes about halfway through when he starts inserting himself into the proceedings more and more. As a character from  Almost Famous  puts it, we already have a Hunter S. Thompson. Even if this worked well in The Big Rewind, I feel like I wanted to see more of the Juggalos and Phish fans and less of Rabin's internal process. Rabin is a great writer and most of the time I can follow him and I still enjoyed this book, but his personal stuff gets in the way here. Most of the time, he can use the personal material for insightful and amazing writing, so he shouldn't stop. But it doesn't always work and there are points here where it does not.

Nathan Rabin is an effortlessly funny and surprisingly poignant author, using his fascination with two of music's most reviled bands (Phish and the Insane Clown Posse) as a starting point on a road to hallucinogenics, marriage, bipolar disorder, and self-discovery. The book occasionally dips in the middle as Rabin follows Phish on tour and his mind begins to unravel, but mostly You Don't Know Me But You Don't Like Me is hilarious, unpredictable, and a warm, non-judgemental look at the strange world of the counterculture.

I like the premise of the book - that there are bands out there that have a massive and rabid following, and their own sub-culture, but are unknown to even the 'serious' music fan - and it held my attention throughout, despite a little too much of the writer's soul-searching. Would have preferred more on the Phish aspect of the story but I became surprisingly drawn into the juggalo world and was almost moved to add ICP to my playlist....

Extremely well-written, well-researched book. An easy and entertaining read - poignant, funny, personal and illuminating.

I knew very little about ICP or Phish fans, but this book does a great job of weaving a narrative around those groups and the sense of community that they create. I am a fan of Nathan Rabin (from his AV Club writing), and his honesty throughout the book was refreshing. As as addendum, I would suggesting finding and reading his longform essay about the financial mess he was in after writing this book.

Kinda got the idea halfway through. The author finds Phish and ICP both vastly different and shockingly similar. In addition, he seems to discover great beauty in the stories of so-called ordinary people. Nevertheless, I finished the thing.