PHILLY
EVENTS
At 63, Iggy Pop is two years older than my dad. I mean, they’re from the 1940s. (Sorry, dad!) But on Friday night in Atlantic City, while my dad was probably enjoying a glass of wine and a film on Turner Classic Movies, Iggy held court before his fans, ranging from Santa-haired ex-hippies to punkers-turned-fathers to pimply kids in oversized Misfits t-shirts.
This is a man who turned punk into performance art. People were drawn to his live shows because of his antics (literally bleeding for fans) and wildman reputation (the original stage diver) just as much as for his raw, experimental brand of blues inspired punk. So, forty years after the release of The Stooges’ debut album, I had to see if he was still all that or just a haggard, leathery train wreck.
Iggy barely made it through the first verse of “Raw Power” before tearing off his shrunken vest like it was made of fire. Seeing Iggy’s insanely jacked, tan torso contort as if his very essence was just boiling out of his pores makes you understand how this dude has survived decades of rock and drug abuse. There’s no way heroin or any outside force could combat whatever creature is caged inside that half-human half-reptile shell.
Iggy bounced around the stage like a 9 year old high on Pixy Stix, swinging his arms so hard I thought they might fall off during the crowd-pleasing “Search and Destroy.” But Iggy is in some serious shape, and the arms remained intact. While regular humans are slathering on SPF 70, not smoking and eating organic, legends like Iggy dig their own graves for forty years and crawl out with more pep than some 20-somethings I know.
Fans raised open hands to the sky like the show was some kind of gospel experience. They lurched forward as Iggy invited them onstage to create a mini mosh-pit for “Shake Appeal”. Then, as he went into the psychedelic “1970″ and singalong “The Passenger”, they clawed, kissed, and bear-hugged him.
Earlier this year, Iggy announced his retirement from stage diving after he basically bellyflopped at Carnegie Hall when the crowd failed to catch him. But last Friday – somewhere between the heart-pounding “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and “Penetration”, complete with his so-tasteful “Stick it in!” intro-chant – the lizardman dove offstage into welcoming arms and then slinked his way back up, riding the wave of hands. We shouldn’t be surprised that – AARP card or no – he just can’t quit what he created.
At 63, Iggy is still doing Iggy, and – unlike many of his peers – it’s not forced or watered down. He was a spectacle then, and he’s a spectacle now. That kind of raw power apparently doesn’t just fade with age.
–Cristina Perachio, cristina.perachio@gmail.com
