But anyone who thinks he's the spirit of the music has been taken in by the doomed theory that rock and roll is transgressive by definition. He wrote more anthems than Richard Berry himself. Plus, wouldn't you know, equally dim live tapes designed to prove yet again that they did actually vamp longer than Hawkwind and Grinderswitch put together-anything rather than get down to business. C+ĭistinguishable from competing relics of the Church of Iggy by the oddly qualified boast "The Great Lost Stooges Album?" (they do enjoy their punctuation over at Bomp!!), this one recycles the Raw Power follow-ups of the Rubber Legs EP, with dimmer sound than the ruinous underbassing Bowie inflicted on that piece of classic-openers-plus-filler, and also dimmer songs-"Cock in My Pocket" might make somebody a second encore, "Rubber Legs" is a worthier title cut than "Open Up and Bleed," and the rest belonged on the cutting room floor. Great "documentary" but sometimes I really dig Joni Mitchell. And let us not forget "Hebrew" (rhymes with "Rich Bitch"). Ignorami consider this dim live tape Prime Ig cos "you can actually hear the bottles flying." Also cos Ig utters the words "cunt, pricks, buttfuckers" (trying to run this world sez Ig, who'd never dream of such a thing himself).
The side-openers, "Search and Destroy" and "Raw Power," voice the Iggy Pop ethos more insanely (and aggressively) than "I Wanna Be Your Dog." But despite James Williamson's guitar, the rest disperses in their wake.
In which David Bowie remembers "the world's forgotten boy" long enough to sponsor an album-and mixes it down till it's thin as an epicure's wrist. Robert Christgau: CG: Iggy and the Stooges
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