Ziggy Pop / Iggy Stardust

 

I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center. Big, undreamed‑of things—the people on the edge see them first.

Kurt Vonnegut

Nothing like a quote from a respected author to defend someone who went over the edge on Day 1, huh?

Ziggy:

You have to hand it to David Bowie. He was always willing to dive into the maelstrom. He'd barely finished Ziggy Stardust when he decided to produce Mott the Hoople's All the Young Dudes, and then Lou Reed's Transformer. Reed could send the most dedicated musician to a Buddhist monastery for life, and so during the recording, Bowie could usually be found in a fetal position under the bathroom sink.

After Reed, he decided to deal with a more stable individual and befriended Iggy Pop to produce Raw Power, to no one's satisfaction. 

Bowie also somehow got around to recording his own Alladin Sane.

All this in about a year. Coffee, I suspect.

Iggy:

Iggy himself had made his mark amongst pre-punks with his first few records with the Stooges. But there's only so many times you can threaten (and only partially pull off) the apocalypse before people start to call your bluff. (See his mid-70s humiliation in Please Kill Me.) Plus, square people like me were never going to embrace him, anyway. 

It took until I saw Trainspotting, and the Sex Pistols' choice to self-immolate to "No Fun", to understand his rabid following. My personal Iggy collection starts with a best-of from 1995, which covers most of the essentials. I then moved on to the Stooges' second and third albums - Fun House and Raw Power (the remixed - i.e., non-Bowie - version) - and finally got it - the almost idiotically simple music, sung by a seeming psychotic who nonetheless managed to keep a cool distance from it all, and dropping the mask occasionally to show he knew exactly what he was doing.

To my ears, I hear a movement - from the flat lo-fi growl of "I Wanna Be Your Dog"  (one must have aspirations, after all) and "No Fun" (even if those aspirations aren't met), to the sharper bark of Fun House and then to the full-fledged yowl of Raw Power - towards a fuller, clearer sound of very primitive music. 

So what do you do next? Do you soften the music and risk selling out, but at least benefit from royalties as you approach middle age? Or do you try something new? Something's gotta give. So by 1976, Iggy was going through some tough times and had some decisions to make.

Z/Iggy:

Bowie came to the rescue, revived Pop's career,  and, possibly, his art-if-you-wanna-call-it-that-and-I-do, at least temporarily. 

And wouldn't you know, Bowie wrote most of the music for these two records! He very shrewdly left the lyrics to Iggy, knowing the man would have to have the last word on his own image.

He also played uncredited piano on Iggy's supporting tour while also releasing two great solo records of his own - Low and Heroes.) Another busy Bowie year. That's some pretty strong coffee!

Iggy Pop: The Idiot (1977)

Ah, it's great to hear Iggy in these tuneful settings. I can just hear Bowie saying to him, You know, Iggy dear, every song doesn't have to be an apocalypse. Not being an Iggy fanatic, I'm fine with this approach.

The band is (relatively) restrained, which lets Iggy's voice take center stage. With the Stooges, his voice would be fighting with (and occasionally beating) the band. Here, things are more harmonious. The band leaves some space, which Iggy fills with a suave croon. Let's thank Bowie for this.

It's also a relief to hear Iggy the Showman instead of Iggy the Raving Lunatic (which was kind of an act, anyway.)

I give this one the edge because of the last cut being better.

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Iggy Pop: Lust for Life (1977)

Released later that same year, it's Iggy saying, Don't worry, I'm still Iggy. Yet it's different in some critical ways. The title track - one of the greatest rock n' roll songs ever - ISN'T loud and raucous enough to send normies (like me) out of the room. It does have those enormous drums kicking things off, which should draw anyone in. And if you want to really be hit by the full force of it, watch the opening scene from Trainspotting. A true statement of purpose.

There are still the screams that remind you of the old Iggy, but this time, he's actually interested in a bigger audience. And it makes all the difference for better or worse, depending on how you like your Iggy. Clearer and punchier, but also safer. (I'm beginning to really love those earlier albums. I guess sometimes I'm looking forward to the apocalypse after all.)

And yet, that triptych of "The Passenger", "Tonight", and "Success" conveys a kind of joy. Rare.

A-

Ziggy-less:

And like with Lou Reed, it turned out great, but was really just a holding pattern.

Neither Iggy nor Bowie realized that they had only a few more years of vital music left in them. And now Bowie's gone altogether.

But these two records are great places to get the essence of Iggy without the broken peanut butter jars and such.

It's been 30 years since that best-of came out, and while Iggy's been keeping busy putting out record after record, I'm not up on any of them. I suspect by now I've got all the Iggy I'll ever need.

That's okay. He continues to thrill audiences in concert, which, I hear, is where most apocalypses take place these days.

2025: Simple

Outstanding in their field.

 

Some things are just so simple.

For instance, the following record is the best folk/country album I've heard in years. Better this year than Hooray for the Riff Raff(!) (by a bit) and Waxahatchee (by a bit more) and Jesse Winchester (a bit more than that). And nearly as good as Robbie Fulks. Too bad it's 25 years old.

How is this even possible? I was on my last pop legs for a bit there. (This isn't pop, but you get the point.) No jazz chords either. 

The Handsome Family: In the Air (2000)

The songs have the most basic of melodies, made fresh via the kind of genius John Prine possessed, and Neil Young occasionally still does. It makes me want to play guitar again. 

Brett Sparks' rich baritone is nearly as commanding as Johnny Cash's. He sounds ancient, yet I'm sure I'm twenty years older. I assumed the lyrics are profound. Or did the melodies and the voice make them so? Who knows? Who cares? 

But upon closer listen, I find most of them dark and kind of twisted - more than one involving family murder. It's probably the only off-putting element in the whole project. But I'm still listening anyway, especially since there are also a few with lyrics so open-hearted as to bring you to tears.

I'd have preferred to include another album here for comparison or contrast, but that would have just complicated things. This short, modest record is nearly as good as the sprawling Diamond Jubilee.

And it's as simple as that.

A