i wanna be your dog

your pretty face is going to hell

I've just finished reading the Iggy Pop biography 'Open up and bleed' by Paul Trynka, another £1 GQ book sale find. I had been schooling myself in Iggy before reading, but after reading this I feel like I have been to every Stooges show, been at every album recording and been trapped in episodes of sheer mania and terror! This book is very comprehensive, which is both a gift and a curse and its very interesting being a biography rather than an autobiography as I don't think you are as easily persuaded into the idea of Iggy as a loveable rogue as you might be if he had written himself (which he has done in the past with his autobiography ' I Need More', but I think this book proves the Ig's mind and memories are not really to be trusted). For exampe, whether its fair or not, Anthony Keidis and Iggy Pop have always been closely linked in my mind, which is no way an accident on Keidis' part. Keidis was also a heroin addict, but in his brilliant autobiography 'Scar Tissue', you know he is frequently abhorrent, but ultimately completely charming.

As many succesful performers no doubt are, Jim Osterberg's creation 'Iggy Pop' is a self seeking, melodramatic meglomaniac, with a finger firmly set on the self destruct button. But I would love to be able to go back and see him fronting The Stooges in the late 60s and early 70s as their 'raw power' and fuck shit uppery sounds breathtaking. It is easy to think of wrinkly old orange Iggy in his car insurance ads now, and harder to remember that The Stooges, under Iggy's bent, basically went out there made the music they wanted, and weren't commerically succesful in their time. They were so intense and weird that audiences would cower away from them; they were ahead of their time. Testament to this perhaps is the fact that The Stooges' 'Raw Power' was Kurt Cobain's favourite album, and subsequently Cobain's band went on again to wipe the music slate clean and do their own thing. I really like the first self-titled Stooges album, I guess theres a lot of Doors influencene in there. ' I Wanna Be Your Dog' is brilliant (and put to good use in 'The Runaways', which I watched recently - Kim Fowley worked with Iggy too). 'Raw Power' is also good but at times a bit of an onslaught. Also, like most of the world's best people (ie Steven Tyler) he started out as a drummer before taking over the microphone.

Iggy's work and relationship with David Bowie is enduringly fascinating, mainly because it is still shrouded in quite a lot of mystery. I didn't realise that the song 'China Girl' was co-written by Iggy and appeared on his album before Bowie's version, released six years later. It is usually reported that Bowie helped Iggy's career, but this book really highlights the mutual benefits to the both of them. Of course, as a public figure Bowie was more commercial and acceptable, which perhaps explains how history has been written in his favor. And I don't think any bumming did take place, thanks Velvet Goldmine...

Enough of the music. Of course a big appeal of Iggy's has been that he is utterly beautiful; those eyelashes! I suppose hes not conventionally attractive but then most rock stars aren't are they? There's a pic of his famously proportioned schlong in the book too. Don't mind if I do. He's clearly been a massive shit to women and bandmates, and a terrible father, abandoning anyone who had outgrown their use to him, which I really didn't want to learn. I was suprised to read how intelligent and articulate he is, at school he was voted 'Most likely to succeed' but classmates thought he seemed destined to a career in politics. Iggy for Prez?

'I'm a streetwalking cheetah with a heart ful of Napalm'

Iggy in his famous cheetah leather jacket; he was wearing this when he found inspiration for the song 'Search and Destroy'

His spicy wife Nina.*

I haven't come away feeling like I really understand Iggy, and how much the Iggy persona is a front, or whether it is the real Jim. I think this is perhps unanswerable and I would like him to write his own autobiography now that he is seeminlgy more mature and level. I can't tell if he is really arrogant, or really insecure. This book puts forward the idea that Jim Osterberg is bi-polar, but then it doesn't really want to, and in fact can't commit to this idea. So bi-winning? (Sorry!)

I would recommend this book if you are really interested in Iggy/Jim Osterberg's back story as it is so well researched, draws on extensive references and is by a highly respected music journalist. Don't read it if you just want some stories of salacious rock star shagging or to be told that all was fine, all the time and Iggy is a thoroughly decent chap. I feel like I haven't done it enough justice here but its hard to as it is an absolute tome!


The last fm website is a great source for Iggy photos.

Oh and one more thing, watch this for a good run of archive film and photos:



*damn you Amy Cox, giving me a new adjective

his dark materials

I have just finished reading rock journalist Nick Kent's book 'The Dark Stuff', a compilation of articles concerned with some of music's most troubled and intriguing characters. Before I read 'The Dark Stuff' I read his autobiography 'Apathy for the Devil' (the title taken from Bob Dylan's sneering summary of a '70s Stones gig), so I was aware of how 'in' Kent was with some of the world's biggest rock stars of the late '60s and '70s; his relationship with Chrissie Hynde, his friendship with Iggy Pop and his beating by the vile Sid Vicious to name a few.

His career as a rock journalist meant that he was often drawn in to the murkiness, in particular the hard drug use which was rife, and yet he also remained under suspicion, on the outside, the enemy (the NME).

I think the widespread drug addiction in music that took over in the 1960s and turned to really heavy shit in the 1970s was what shocked me most because I don't think I really realised how mentally damaging and far reaching it was. Brian Wilson ruined his sanity from taking acid (although his weird family life growing up may have also been a root cause), he went completely insane, which as a child growing up listening to the Beach Boys I had no idea about. Iggy should be dead (and trust me, he tried). The mad mix of unadulterated adulation, drugs and personal neuroses led to the demise of so many; Jerry Lee Lewis' Biblical fear juxtaposed with God-like arrogance made for a very interesting moral code, for example. However, these unique personalities and situations also led to some of the most amazing music, which is something Kent is also great at making you appreciate. I was physically spooked by images of old man Phil Spector in court in recent years, but then to realise what he contributed to music (not as much as he claimed, but still impressive) it sort of redeemed him, artistically speaking at least.

A recommended read, I especially liked the way that some of the artists' stories seem to intertwine; Brian Wilson was heavily inspired, obsessed even with Phil Spector and both were tortured genius' in their own way. Miles Davis inspired everyone, but was frequently chasing re-invention and a new, current sound. Morrissey was himself a fan of Nick Kent's journalistic work, and then went on to be one of the greatest lyricists ever, in my opinion.

Chrissie Hynde and Nick Kent

suck me beautiful

Now that I don't have to dash home to Reading every Friday night (nothing wrong with the 'ding, but waiting at Paddington station for an hour or cramped on a slow train for over an hour is a bit of a buzz kill after a working week) I like the idea of watching a film and eating treats so tonight it was....'Suck' and Baklava.

As mentioned in a previous post it is something I've wanted to watch and it was only a fiver so its ended up in my life. I actually enjoyed it. On first watching, or to the untrained eye it might look like a pile of wank but when you notice the clever camera use and the effective stop motion animation, plus the fact that they managed to get Alice Cooper, Iggy Pop (forgetting the insurance adverts, not very Godfather of Punk...), Henry Rollins, Moby and Malcom McDowell you realise that something pretty good is going on here. Rob Stefaniuk wrote, directed and acted in the film, as well as writing and performing all of the fictional band 'The Winners' songs - and they're not bad.

As with 'Scott Pilgrim' here is a bullet point list of the films high points (in my opinion):

• 
  Iggy Pop - he is my current crush and obsession thanks to reading a lot of Nick Kent who was a friend, fan and life saver of Iggy's in the 70s - more on this subject in another post with some great pics. Also Iggy's star print shirt in the film is rad, will be ebay hunting one out.
• Someone dies in a burst of flames after being stabbed through the heart with a flying 'V' guitar. Excellent.
• They have cleverly used old footage of Malcom McDowell from films he did in his youth to use in a flashback sequence; this is another great example of how the film is subtely smarter than you think it will be.
• The Hugo character, played by Chris Ratz is amusing. At first you think he's going to be an ineffective caricature but noooo.
• The classic vampire slayer role of Van Helsing is reprised as Eddie Van Helsing. I love a pun.
• The female lead character is kind of a babe and she has some good make-up and clothes looks, namely the black glitter eyes, and the leopard print floppy hat and mac combo.
• Henry Rollins, who is a joy to listen to anyway, is very convincing as an irritating radio DJ.
• Dimitri Coates of the band Burning Brides plays one of the head vampires Queeny and he looks fucking cool. He lip synchs to some of his bands songs in the film and it works brilliantly and the songs aren't bad. 

 


So 'Suck' did not suck.











I also bought 'Boogie Nights' at the same time, which I'm sure people who know me and my 'no boobs, no nudity' film policy will be suprised by, but I saw it a few years back and loved it, so expect a boring, rambling blog on that soon!
Oh Iggy's Swiftcover ad where he's in bed with his doppleganger puppet has just been on... oh dear...