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| Joey |
quote:
pdog wrote:
Joey, The grown ups are talking, we have "special threads" for you...
In the end
as darkness nears
we look upon our life
full of tears. Missed dreams
and opportunities, unrequitted love, unending fear.
Suffering, in quiet despair, alone again, no
one cares..and as death approaches now, we will never exist again
never exist again, never exist again!!!! And this my friend is the true meaning of life.....
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| Phog |
They blew me away in Denver on Tuesday. Iggy is something to behold, no doubt about it. They sounded fucking great.
Sistas were really good, too. |
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| pdog |
quote:
Joey wrote:
GWM seeking young chubby chasers.
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| GotToRollMe |
Here's a review and a couple of pics from the 4/19 Warfield show:
Lustful for life, just like his old self
Review: Iggy Pop, punk's godfather -- and now its grandfather -- shows he hasn't lost a step
Neva Chonin, Chronicle Critic at Large
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Four songs into the Stooges' raucous Thursday set at the Warfield, Iggy Pop paused for a moment of rumination. "It sometimes happens," he began, his ragged baritone rising above the crowd's screams, "that in this short and difficult existence, sometimes you feel like a minority of one."
The crowd whooped. Pop continued, "And if the majority says you're dirt, you're dirt." He paused to flash a characteristically half-charming, half-alarming and wholly unhinged smile. "But at least you're down to earth." With that, the reunited Stooges broke into the slithery blues of "Dirt," from their 1970 LP, "Fun House," and their vocalist was off and dancing.
Pop's introduction underscored the message of "Dirt," and just about every other track the Stooges recorded in their tenure as the greatest band ever ignored. It's a sentiment best captured by Oscar Wilde in the 19th century, and can be paraphrased thus: We're all in the gutter, baby, but some of us are looking at the stars.
Thursday's star was Iggy Pop, who, as he turns 60 today, has earned every inch of his fame and notoriety. As the Stooges' front man in the late '60's and early '70s, the Detroit singer waged a lonely rock war against the hippie era's sweet apathy. He railed against his era's groovy machine, diving into dumbfounded audiences, provoking fights, smearing his body with peanut butter and blood and making music that reflected alienation in a time of enforced collectivity. Is it any wonder that he was later crowned the godfather of punk?
Punk's godfather is now its grandfather, but as Thursday's sold-out show proved, at six decades and counting (he celebrates his birthday with a second, equally sold-out Warfield concert tonight) he hasn't slowed down much. In fact, he hasn't slowed down at all; if his face bears the marks of a life hard lived, his body and soul remain as fiercely, raggedly young as those of his largely youthful San Francisco audience.
The night's repertoire was angled to please both the Stooges' fresh acolytes and older die-hard fans, drawing heavily on 35-year-old classics (including "Fun House" in its entirety), punctuated with material from this year's reunion CD, "The Weirdness," and peppered with songs from solo Pop projects such as "Skull Ring." Material from "Raw Power," the 1973 album produced by David Bowie and featuring James Williamson on guitar, was conspicuously absent.
Equally energetic was the 2007 version of the Stooges -- founding brothers Ron and Scott Asheton on guitar and drums, with the Minutemen's Mike Watt on bass and Steve Mackay on saxophone -- who seamlessly recaptured the original band's abrasive spirit and sonic tenor. To give some idea of how far ahead of their time the Stooges were (and perhaps always will be), their sound carried no wisp of nostalgia as they supplied a steady base for their singer's antics, rocking away while Pop threw himself into the audience during "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and the audience, in turn, went wild to see the man who virtually invented stage diving still executing the art with such lunatic grace.
"Loose" opened the 75-minute set with a chaotic squall as Pop whipped his shirtless, elastic body across the stage like a Gumby on crack. "Down on the Street" followed, with Pop grinding against a monitor as he slid, moaning, into its sleazy, psychedelic vibe. At the risk of belaboring the point, allow me to reiterate: The man hasn't aged. He has merely acquired more creases.
The sight of Pop writhing in his fans' outstretched arms might have been the evening's highlight, had the lead Stooge not topped himself by inviting the crowd onstage for anarchic renditions of "Real Cool Time" and "No Fun." Sure, he does this in every town. It's probably equally euphoric every time he does, too. Ask the kids who got to harmonize with a legend; ask the girl who saucily yanked down Pop's jeans to expose his still-toned bottom.
Rock 'n' roll doesn't get better than an intergenerational sing-along, and punk doesn't get punker than dozens of people slamming around onstage with their hero. Minority of one? Make that a minority of many.
Have a happy birthday, Iggy, old dog. May you, and we, always rock just this way, all night, until we blow away.
Link: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/04/21/DDGPQPC9BR1.DTL
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| pdog |
Holy shit, the blurry arm near his stomach is mine. too bad my tattoo can't be seen well, but that's my arm with the german eagle on it... |
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| GotToRollMe |
LOL...Ya know, I actually wondered if that might be you, pdog! Cool!  |
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