Iggy Pop
My friend Chris Badgley and I went to see Iggy and the Stooges on Friday night and, somewhat to my surprise, I thought the old man was great.
My overriding impression was of watching some strange 21st century Western shaman, a cross between Gollum and the Lucky Charms leprechaun.
James Newell Osterberg, Jr. looks pretty good (from fifty yards away in a darkened hall) for sixty years old, or at least no more freaky than he ever did; his fitness is some sort of testament to sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll; and he moved pretty slinkily for a sexagenarian. I was impressed with how tight his band was and how slick, without being Vegas-y, his show was.
It also seemed to me that he had a healthy sense of irony about the whole thing; more than once, I got the feeling that Iggy was “playing” Iggy, like a performer in a Broadway show. But clearly, no one around does Iggy better than the original.
I’m not hugely familiar with his catalogue, but I recognized most of the hits, including “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” and “Real Cool Time;” I also thought there was one Mike Watt song mixed in there near the end, but I’m not sure, it may have just been him taking a bass solo.
The venue sort of sucked; the WaMu Events Center is just a massive indoor box, better for trade shows than concerts. It felt like being at a high school dance, even down to the security, which was ubiquitous if not exactly oppressive.
Drinkers were roped off in corrals on the concourse outside the auditorium, so you couldn’t have a beer while you watched the show; that seemed fairly inimical to me of the Iggy vibe.
We stayed for the whole show except the last part of the final encore; overall, it was a pretty good time, but now that I’ve seen Iggy, I don’t have to see him again.
My overriding impression was of watching some strange 21st century Western shaman, a cross between Gollum and the Lucky Charms leprechaun.
James Newell Osterberg, Jr. looks pretty good (from fifty yards away in a darkened hall) for sixty years old, or at least no more freaky than he ever did; his fitness is some sort of testament to sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll; and he moved pretty slinkily for a sexagenarian. I was impressed with how tight his band was and how slick, without being Vegas-y, his show was.
It also seemed to me that he had a healthy sense of irony about the whole thing; more than once, I got the feeling that Iggy was “playing” Iggy, like a performer in a Broadway show. But clearly, no one around does Iggy better than the original.
I’m not hugely familiar with his catalogue, but I recognized most of the hits, including “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” and “Real Cool Time;” I also thought there was one Mike Watt song mixed in there near the end, but I’m not sure, it may have just been him taking a bass solo.
The venue sort of sucked; the WaMu Events Center is just a massive indoor box, better for trade shows than concerts. It felt like being at a high school dance, even down to the security, which was ubiquitous if not exactly oppressive.
Drinkers were roped off in corrals on the concourse outside the auditorium, so you couldn’t have a beer while you watched the show; that seemed fairly inimical to me of the Iggy vibe.
We stayed for the whole show except the last part of the final encore; overall, it was a pretty good time, but now that I’ve seen Iggy, I don’t have to see him again.
posted by Professor Dave at 1:50 PM
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