Review #488: The Stooges, The Stooges
#488: The Stooges, The Stooges
Fun House was the first album I reviewed that my boyfriend well and truly hated. This close to the end, another Stooges album feels like full circle.
The Stooges’ debut (originally the Psychedelic Stooges) was produced by John Cale, a former member of the Velvet Underground. When they played it for Elektra, label head Jac Holsman loathed it, and asked for more “legitimate” songs. So they reworked it. And I don’t know how wild the original cut of the record must have been, because the debut is still terrifying and discordant and full of raw power.
In my old Stooges review, I may have undersold how off-the-wall bonkers Iggy Pop was during his live shows. He was the original wildman, potentially the person who popularized the stage dive. I talked about the peanut butter incidents, but he also flashed his weiner, antagonized the audience, and slashed his chest with broken glass onstage. And now he owns a cockatoo named Biggy Pop. How is it this man survived the Seventies?!
But back in 1969, Iggy Pop was singing about being bored and wanting to turn his boredom into something terrible. With a little help from guitarist Ron Asheton of course — “1969” introduces his wah wah guitar as Pop shrieks It’s another year for me and you/ Another year with nothin’ to do. See also “No Fun,” where Iggy literally begs Asheton to break up his boredom with a rip roaring guitar solo, and Asheton obliges.
It seems that they mostly fill the time with sex! “I Wanna Be Your Dog” is such a nasty song, with all the grime to match, including a guitar part that’s a punk waterfall. But none of the songs are exactly straightforward, and none have the hubristic vibe of many other rock sex songs of the time. In “Ann” he proclaims his undying love to a woman who took my arm and broke my will, while “Not Right” matches him up with a woman whom he wants to have sex with, before they both realize that the vibes are off. See also “Real Cool Time” and “Little Doll.”
The terrifying standout is “We Will Fall,” a ten-minute dirge with Iggy Pop mumbling over a chant of Oh, gi, ran, ja, ran, ja, ja, ran. It was one of the songs they added after Holsman asked for “legitimate” songs, which blows my mind. The guitar playing is more subdued, and there are hardly any drums at all. How could a self-destructive punk band carry off a Gregorian chant? Probably the same way that Iggy Pop survived all these years: who the hell knows?
Review #487: Damaged, Black Flag
Review #489: Back to Mono (1958–1969), Phil Spector and Various Artists
