excuse me, but i can't contain my excitement at the news of The Stooges
reforming and playing the States, unfortunately it economically
impossible for me to experience and be blown to pieces as Andrew Watson
wrote down there. for those who don't need any intro to Iggy + The
Stooges, do read and weep, and for the rest of you out there I hope you
people will take a journey of discovery and see for yourself why The
Stooges can still obliterate 100, 000 of the so called "punk" bands
currently active and screaming today.

Joe - a dawg since 1978!

from: http://popmatters.com/music/concerts/s/stooges-030825.shtml


THE STOOGES + SONIC YOUTH
25 August 2003: DTE Music Theater — Detroit
by Andrew Watson - PopMatters Music Critic

Homecoming 2003 or How I Ended Up Onstage With Iggy and the Stooges

In 1967, a young, aspiring bluesman named Jim Osterberg left his
hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan for Chicago to study legendary drummer
Sam Lay. He was looking for inspiration, for a way to incorporate the
traditional African American blues ethic into his own white, Midwestern
upbringing. He discovered that the problem with most white blues bands
was their tendency to overthink the whole thing as opposed to letting
the sound and feel come naturally, freely.

Legend has it that after smoking a joint down by a sewage treatment
plant near the Loop one night, Jim conceived of a new blues. A simple
blues wherein Jim could describe his life experiences through music the
way the Chicago bluesmen did. He would appropriate their vocal
phrasings, their rhythms, and above all, their presence, into something
new. Jim returned to his hometown as Iggy Pop, a man reborn. He would
soon form the Stooges with the Asheton brothers, Ron and Scotty, and
the late Dave Alexander.

They would lay the foundation for what we now call punk rock. Three or
four chords of in-your-goddamn-face-no-matter-if-you-like-it-or-not
whiteboy rock and roll blues that would change the face of popular
music forever. All due respect to the Lou Reeds, the Johnny Rottens and
the Joey Ramones out there, but in 1967 Iggy Stooge invented punk rock,
all by himself.

The Stooges were signed to Elektra records by legendary A&R guy Danny
Fields as part of a package deal with fellow local hellions the MC5.
They would release two excellent LPs (and one not-so-excellent) between
the years of 1968 and 1973. The first two, The Stooges and Funhouse
would establish the Stooges as the world's loudest, scariest band. Iggy
would routinely shock and antagonize his audience by incorporating
peanut butter, broken glass, raw meat, blenders, vomit, blood and
whatever else would squirt out into one of the most commanding and
horrifying stage presences of his or any other generation. Iggy's
schtick, combined with the Asheton brothers' relentless, pummeling
throb, became a working class rallying cry for the youth of Detroit --
a giant "fuck you" to not only the pseudo-idealistic rhetoric of the
hippy generation but the white collar, conservative ideals that shaped
and controlled the nation as well.

It has been said that Iggy wasn't so much theatrical as he was great
theater. If Alice Cooper was a showman, Iggy Pop was a revolutionary.
He wasn't trying to entertain the audience by giving them something to
dance to and feel comfortable with. On the contrary, Iggy and the
Stooges wanted to freak you out, piss you off, and force you to accept
and deal with the inevitability of change. It soon became obvious that
this manic fire would prove too hot to burn; a failed, drug-addled,
somewhat humorous attempt to drive a 12 foot truck under a 10 foot
bridge (Washington Street in Ann Arbor) landed several Stooges in the
hospital and prompted Elektra to finally give up. Being dropped
surprised no one; nobody was making any money and Iggy was an
incredibly loose cannon -- far too risky for a major label commitment.

The Stooges called it quits in 1973, another tragic rock and roll drug
casualty. Punk, as well as Iggy himself, would go on to flourish in
trendier, more suitable locations -- London, New York, L.A. -- but its
roots, and his, will forever stretch back towards the working class
streets of Detroit. Which is precisely what made August 25, 2003 so
damn special.

Thirty years after the fact the fans are of a much larger number. A
sold out DTE Music Theater, ironically victimized by its own company's
massive power outage on the original showdate of August 14, was the
chosen location for this little reunion party, Sonic Youth the selected
warm-up act. As an unabashed SY fan, I was determined to get there
early, to not miss a second of this historic bill, this incredible day.
I found my seat, conveniently located 9 rows back, dead center under
the pavilion, and took a second to laugh at the utter misfortune of my
travel partners, relegated to the distant hillside along with all the
other cheapos who wouldn't pony up for good seats. They would soon
regret that decision.

Sonic Youth took the stage and wasted no time making their weird,
beautiful noise. Though they themselves have proven to be as
influential and important a band as, say, the Stooges, they seemed
quite honored to be playing second fiddle this night. They blasted
through several of their classics -- "White Kross", "Eric's Trip",
"Teenage Riot", "Kool Thing" -- before ending their set in an
appropriately destructive fashion. "Expressway To Yr Skull", one of
their oldest, most powerful and engaging pieces, left the stage in
absolute ruin; triple-threat Lee Ranaldo, Thurston Moore and Jim
O'Rourke engaging in a playful, onstage guitar/sword fight that
resulted in layers of otherworldly electro-shrieking guitar noise and
ended with O'Rourke flat on his back, defeated. Smiling, I took in the
legions of Stooges fans suffering with their hands over their ears and
wondered how SY would have been received in 1969. Then I realized, oh
yeah, they probably wouldn't even have had the chance to exist if Iggy
hadn't come along when he did. As the stage techs emerged and the
guitar racks and effect pedal units were carefully hauled away, the
chanting began. STOOGES! STOOGES! Detroit was ready to receive Iggy
again.

The ageless elf hit the stage with a snake-like quickness, the barrel
chords of "Loose" fixing a vicious groove behind him. My first reaction
was one of shock, he looked pretty good for a 57 year old ex-junkie
renegade rock star. Shirtless, grizzle-faced, painted on jeans -- Iggy
looked pretty much the way he's looked for the last 25 years. Twisting
and contorting himself into pretzel shapes, doing that dance that only
he seems willing to do, Iggy pranced around the stage for the first few
cuts, taking it all in for a moment before casually diving headfirst
into the first couple rows.

That one gesture effectively erased the thirty-odd years that have
passed since the Stooges last rocked and seemed to assure the crowd
that, yes, this was still a punk band playing a punk show, and the
crowd (albeit 19,000 strong) should feel free to behave accordingly.
From that point, it was totally on. "1969" became tribal utopia. Scotty
Asheton and uber-bassman for hire Mike Freaking Watt (Minutemen,
fIREHOSE) locked horns on the songs' rumbling underbelly, prompting
Iggy to climb atop his amps and hump them -- a move not befitting most
57-year-old men, but Iggy has always walked a different line. "I Wanna
Be Your Dog" (version one) followed, Iggy barking and cavorting on all
fours before once again hurling himself into the eager crowd. His
performance is as unpredictable and visually appealing as ever -- a
mischievous imp back in his element, fearless.

I had been chatting before the gig with a writer from the Chicago
Tribune who had caught the New York show a few days earlier. He claimed
it was a strange night for the Stooges, 5000 people in an outdoor venue
-- a little too subdued for his taste and not enough of what made the
Stooges stuff of legend. "Well," I explained, fully unaware of what was
to come, "this is Detroit. This should be more suitable." I was right.

"Real Cool Time" followed "TV Eye", two of the Stooges' greatest,
best-loved anthems, and apparently it was too much to handle for a few
guys. One guy managed to break through the security line and make his
way onstage with Iggy, getting a few steps in before being tackled and
hauled back. Iggy promptly and defiantly objected, demanding the
security guy let the guy go, let him stay onstage. He than did
something incredibly brave. He turned to those of us close enough to
see, and gestured for us to come up as well. "Come on! Come on up!"

At this point I must break form and say a few words. Most of us (music
writers, whatever) do this stuff for overwhelmingly selfish reasons.
Free shows, free discs, a bit of exposure, ego-stroking, etc. However,
if you're determined to stick with it long enough, endure the crappy
records and next-to-no pay long enough, you may get lucky and find
yourself in a situation you never could have fathomed. I once
interviewed the great Jerry Only after a Misfits gig with two young
"fans" perched on his lap. We ended up sharing life stories. Needless
to say, a surreal moment that I will never forget. On August 25, 2003 I
was lucky enough to share the stage with Iggy Freaking Pop. I was one
of the 40-50 folks lucky enough to be invited onstage with him that
night. Truth be told, I didn't actually see Iggy once I got up there --
he was instantly mobbed -- but I spent the rest of "Real Cool Time" and
the entire version of "No Fun" jamming a foot and a half away from Mike
Watt(!) and Scott Asheton(!), staring, probably with my mouth hanging
open like a moron.

Punk is about connecting with people, sharing ideas, and relishing the
common and uncommon factors of our lives -- the minutiae that makes us
the same and different. We were all the same on August 25, 2003. Older
guys, young punkers, boys, girls, fat, skinny, tall, short, ugly --
Punk doesn't care. Looking out at the thousands from the stage, I
briefly wondered how many of them had been at Mother's in Ann Arbor for
the Stooges' first show in 1967. How many had tagged along with the MC5
when they played the doomed, infamous Democratic National Convention in
Chicago in 1968. I wondered if, had I been around back then, would I
have been Punk?

Later that night I figured out what it was that Iggy had so blithely
stumbled onto down by the Loop, way back when. Punk is a consistent,
timeless culture. The sound, the mesage, the look -- it's all still
being done, albeit less genuinely and for the most part, less
ferociously. Punk is a commodity now, a target audience.

Iggy was in NYC to present an award at the MTV Video Music Awards three
days after our show. The recipients of said award, AFI, appeared to not
know who the skinny, old guy was that was handing them their award.
Iggy kindly shook hands with these little boys before retreating to the
unlit, backside of the podium while they said their thank-yous and what
not. I was baffled. How could my onstage-with-Iggy experience mean so
much more to me than AFI's? Why don't they get it like I do? In a
perfect world they would have gotten down on their skinny little knees
and thanked Iggy proper. I guess a lot of it comes down to luck.

Some of us are lucky enough to be in the way when the shit goes down,
while others choose to stay home and let the local news to tell them
what happened outside. As Iggy wound up his set at DTE ("I Wanna Be
Your Dog" version two), I noticed Sonic Youth-er Lee Ranaldo standing
just offstage, giddy as a schoolgirl, snapping up photos of Iggy, Ron,
Scott, and Watt -- a simple fan just like me and the 19,000 others in
attendance. He realized the greatness of this particular moment, just
like me, and, like the rest of us, was simply glad to be able to
witness it. This was something to behold, a magnificent homecoming for
rock's original anti-hero.

I am forever changed.

— 9 September 2003

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