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Draplin Design Co., North America

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SHOWING UP IN TWO PLACES: We’re guest blogging on AIGA’s Design Envy Blog this week. Here’s our posts…

Now THAT‚€™S a record cover.

See, record covers can still grab you! I buy a lot of records, and nothing sucks more than being excited to get some new release and then discover it‚€™s got a half-ass cover design. What an opportunity lost.

The latest Uncle Acid album, Mind Control, has punched me right in the face. The mountain. The darkness. The color bars. So good, across the boards. Stoney/doomy/sludgy/heavy-metal-y records like this one don’t usually look like this, and that’s what makes me dig this one that much more. Turn it up!

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Those frisky Juggalos are an easy target. The face paint. The tattoos. The tunes. I‚€™d be a baldfaced liar if I told you I didn‚€™t make my fair share of fun of them over the years. I mean, hell, they sort of ask for it, you know?

Then I met the photographer Daniel Cronin. He was brought to the shop by our mutual friend, Neil DaCosta, another incredible Portland photographer. We talked about his Juggalo photo project, involving multiple visits to their infamous summertime gatherings, deep in the Midwestern woods. And how they sort of took him in, and, how he would look forward to the next year.

And I gotta tell you, after hearing Daniel‚€™s accounts of outsider tolerance, communal bong rips and outpouring of hospitality, I sorta changed my tune on those Juggalos.

Who am I to say if there isn‚€™t something to the Juggalo world? If some kid finds friends, family and belonging, is that a negative thing?

Think about all the shapeshifters out there. What happened to all those hairy, Neo-Folk turds? And wasn‚€™t it just last year with the ‚€œlumberjack look‚€ and the waxed mustaches? This summer it‚€™s motorcycles with rolled-up blankets. And like clockwork, the next goddamn thing is on the horizon. Suddenly, those Juggalos and their dedication seems kinda cool. I mean, shit, at least they stick to their guns.

Once you get past the chumpy Juggalo garb, sticky Faygo residue and junkyard of beat-up four-door cars, you see a bonafide American tribe, just as meaningful and human as anything out there.

Daniel‚€™s books give you an insider‚€™s look at their loitering, parties and hangovers. And the Juggalos allow him to go in deep. I tip my hat to Daniel for having the guts to show it to us properly.

Snag a copy here, and get your, uh…Dark Carnival on!



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