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| The Stooges: Philosopher Kings and Pagan High Priests In the middle of the California desert arose a giant pyramid of light, a modern mystic pagan temple filled with tens of thousands of revelers. Maybe it was the nice weather. Maybe it was the idyllic palm tree-lined setting. Maybe it was the anticipation. But something profound happened beneath that pyramid at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival when the Stooges took the stage. It was the band’s first gig in 30 years. And it was the first time that people who never got to see them the first time around were able to fully understand the band’s power, that these guys aren’t just the inventors of punk rock. They’re philosopher kings. (I’d call them shamans, but their douchebag ex-labelmate Jim Morrisson has fucked that word up forever and ever as it relates to rock). This reunion show was a long time coming. The ball got rolling earlier this year when the Stooges recorded four new songs for Iggy’s upcoming studio album: "Skull Rings," "Little Electric Chair," "Dead Rock Star" and "Loser." Word circulating around the festival was that the band is going to record a new album, and that Jack White is likely to produce it. But the band didn’t play any of those new songs, sticking instead to songs from the first two records. Once the band was on stage, even Iggy had to admit it felt good. "Are you fucking happy? I think I’m getting fucking happy too! I want to fuck something up!" said the Iguana between songs. The tribal stomp drums of Scott "Rock Action" Asheton lead the way, and newcomer bassist Mike Watt (Minutemen, fIREHOSE) clung on to the low end. Ron Asheton’s razor wire guitar solos and chunky power chords provided passion and punctuation. As for Iggy, as usual, he was jumping and twirling and spitting at the audience. He was gonna make damn sure that everybody knew what was going on. "Fuckers! Fucking motherfuckers! We are the Stooges!" said Iggy, beginning the band introductions. "I’m fucking Iggy."
It’s not as though there was any doubt that he was the man, born James Osterberg, who is known to the world as Iggy Pop. It was said more in a "Song of Myself" sort of way—you will notice me, and you will pay attention. After "TV Eye," Iggy talked about how television shows us all people who are smug and rich and good-looking—people who have it easy. "It makes me feel like fucking dirt!" he said, cueing the band to start "Dirt," a song about feeling and cutting that describes modern separation and solipsism so well that it feels like it could have been written today instead of in 1970. Near the end of the hour-long set, the Stooges were joined by Steven MacKay blowing free jazz tenor sax as they launched into "1970." The sax drove the band into frenzy, creating a wailing cacophony of celebration and self-abandonment that would make John Coltrane and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan smile down from heaven. But it was during the climactic "Fun House" that the band really began to travel the spaceways. Iggy sang "Let me in." Over and over he sang it: "Let me in." Was it some sort of James Brown-esque command to the band? Something along the lines of "Can we take it to the bridge?" Or was it something more? Maybe it really was the latter. Later on, Iggy sang "We’re feeling separated." Finally, at the end of the song, he sang "I am you." He repeated: "I am you. I am you." So if Iggy is us, and we’re feeling separated, doesn’t it make sense that we should let him in? C’mon in, Iggy, bring the brothers and Watt and Steve, too. |
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—Brian J. Bowe May 2003 |
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Photos by Robert Matheu
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