Raw Power

Iggy and the Stooges - Search and Destroy




"The best of all of them is what happened when he played the Whisky in Los Angeles ... It was a very star-studded, Jack-and-Anjelica-and-Warren night. He was waiting for his dealer, to cop, intent on getting his shot of heroin before he went on. But he had no money. So he went to the VIP booths one at a time and explained the situation. He said, 'Look, you're here to see me, and I can't go on until my dealer is here, and he's waiting to be paid, so give me some money so I can fix up, and then you'll get your show.' He got more than enough money. He stood off to the side and shot up. The lights went down, the music went up, he stood onstage and collapsed. Without a note being sung. He'd OD'd in front of everyone. And had to be carried off. I think that was one of his greatest shows ever ... It was so minimally perfect. It just says a very great deal."
- Danny Fields

"If I don't terrorize, I'm not Pop."
- Iggy Pop

Warning: Potential loss of objectivity ahead.

Before we begin, I'll warn you that I may find it hard to be entirely objective about this song. You see, it's one of my favourite songs of all time, and the Stooges are one of my favourite bands. This song, in my mind, is one of the purest punk songs I've ever heard (along with Pay To Cum by Bad Brains, American Jesus by Bad Religion and Holiday in Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys). When I think of punk and hardcore, this is the song that plays in my head. Some have said that I Wanna Be Your Dog is really the greatest punk song of all time, but this is, at least in my humble opinion, the epitome of the form. This is the kind of music that

The Stooges have influenced every band in the world that ever put a fuzz pedal between a guitar and an amp and decided to hit their cymbals a little harder than the norm. From the rather explicit copycats like The White Stripes and The Hives, to Eugene Hutz, Henry Rollins and Morrisey, the level of plaudits is almost universal. A list of bands who have covered them includes The Sex Pistols, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Slayer, The Birthday Party, The Black Keys, Guns and Roses, Rage Against The Machine, REM and Sonic Youth.

To add to all of that, Iggy Pop broke the Rock Nutter Scale(tm).
Name: He wasn't christened Iggy Pop, you know. He named himself after the first band he played in (The Iguanas) and a local junkie. His dear, trailer park resident mother actally christened him James Jewel (?) Osterberg. Which is almost as weird as Iggy.
Drugs: He practically defines rock and roll excess. He may be the only man Keith Richards respects when it comes to serious drug use.
History of Violence and Reckless Behaviour: He wrote the book. He dropped out of varsity to be a blues drummer, married a 13 year old heiress and lived in a house full of guns with the MC5 intent on dying in a shootout with the police. And then the real weirdness started. Read Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil to understand the full scope of Pop's depravity and craziness. He is the Rock Nutter. All bases, from ODing on stage, rolling around in broken glass mid-gig, calling out an entire biker gang for a fight, to appearing on British TV in see through pants, are covered. One gets the feeling that, while Ozzy may have bitten the head off a bat on stage, Iggy would prefer to bite the head off the guy from Blink 182.
Fallen afoul of the law? If he hasn't, he should have. In fact, if he hasn't it's only because the law is scared of him. No jail can contain him.

In short, Keith Richards probably wears a little rubber bracelet with WWID? on it. Sorry Willie, you were never really in the race.

On to the song. The song drips anger and disaffection, from the opening guitars, seemingly fuzzed into another universe, and the atonal, almost out-of-time guitar lead building up to a shriek when Iggy Pop delivers the first of many lyrical body blows, proclaiming himself, almost crooning, as a "streetwalking cheetah with a heart full of napalm". From that point on, Pop, the Asheton brothers (described by Pop as two of the dimmest bulbs in rock and roll) and James Williamson (by all accounts an immensely unlikeable character and the person who turned Pop's heroin use into an addiction) pound the world into submmission with a vicious slab of fuzzed-out bass and shrieks that make it sound like the world is collapsing around your ears. This is music that should be played so loud that it makes your neighbours' ears bleed, like Jello Biafra used to do. This is the music that will signal the apocalypse. To be honest, it's more difficult to describe a song that I love and that I've heard so many times than it is to be critical of some of the dreck that I've been listened to recently.

Verdict: Apocalypse Now.

Tomorrow: Guns And Roses - Welcome To The Jungle.