Plain Jane in the membrane

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Yes, it was time for the Faygo guns, basically giant hypodermics about three feet long that were filled out of big plastic vats. The entire ICP retinue came out wielding at least one each; their range was in excess of 50 feet, dramatically expanding the Faygo-drenched circle of fans. Faygo, Faygo, everywhere. As the rest of the entourage left the stage, four clowns heaved the liquid remaining in the vats onto the audience, and it was hard not to think--in the best Motor City tradition--enough with the fucking Faygo already.

That was ICP's major flaw: their willingness to hit you, over and over again, until you're numb--the Faygo, the violence, the f-word, the aggression, the beats. Without something to tie them together, ICP only holds the interest for so long, and even in terms of just-a-show, you can do better. Alice Cooper is obviously a big influence on 2 Dope and J; they said as much Friday night when a brief sampled snippet of "Only Women Bleed" surfaced for a second before submerging again. (Cooper started out as a guest star on an early album, but now disses the band in interviews.) ICP has a long way to go before they can match Cooper's early-'70s theatrical heyday, but that's ground they've got to cover if their music stays as uninteresting as it was on Friday. Otherwise, they'll stay a crude novelty act, a unique case of musical Tourette's Syndrome.

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Matt Weitz