Illegal Foreign Object

I first learned of Iggy Pop when I caught his video for the 1990 hit “Candy”, a duet with the B-52’s singer Kate Pierson, on MTV. The song was poppy, weirdly sinister, had a big-ass chorus, and was released ’round about the time my family got cable TV. It was catchier than crabs at a ’70s key party.

Three years after first hearing “Candy”, I went from ‘like’ to ‘love’ with Iggy, thanks in no small part to the 1993 barnburner “Wild America”, a duet with former Black Flag frontman Henry Rollins. Not only did Henry show up on Iggy’s album, but he also demanded that his fans find everything Pop recorded with The Stooges. Back then Rollins was gospel. I likely wasn’t the only 16-year-old around that time for whom this was true. I mean, that “Liar” video…

Regardless, Rollins was 100% correct. “Down On The Street”? “Search & Destroy”? “Gimme Danger”?! Those three songs alone put most rock ‘n’ roll to complete shame.

Iggy’s rock ‘n’ roll storybook reads like a crash course in excess. He has self-mutilated, induced riots, been punched out by bikers, and snorted up Colombia’s Gross National Product in cocaine with David Bowie and Dennis Hopper. He has split a bottle of Valium with dogs, given a concussion to a fan thanks to a thrown watermelon, and gone on live radio to challenge The Scorpions to a brawl (they never showed). Throughout it all, he has also released some of the most authentic music of all time.

Where live performance is concerned, he is on a level reserved for the very best to ever take a stage. At first blush, James Brown is the only person who comes to mind as being capable of going toe-to-toe with Iggy.

Pop is 76. There will come a day when he will no longer walk among us. Try as we do to convince ourselves that cats like Iggy, Willie, and Keith will somehow always be here, that just ain’t the case. I mean, who had Lemmy checking out at 70 years old? The beauty of dudes like these, however, is that they refuse to go with a whimper. It’s middle fingers to the sky until the bitter end and it’s impossible to do anything but marvel at the individuality of the stance — the gods don’t make many like like Iggy Pop.

Earlier this year, Iggy released his 19th solo album, Every Loser. It is, for lack of a better description, Iggy Pop being Iggy Pop. It is also his most consistently killer album since his “Candy” days, Brick By Brick. You’re not getting bells, you’re not getting whistles, but you are gonna get a dude still perfectly capable (and willing) to throw himself into the fray time and again. Broken glass and dirty needles be damned, Iggy is flopping onto the pile. He’s just always had an innate ability to make venom spewage sound so damn joyous. Iggy is definitely one of those people who you continue to love, even after he’s told you to go fuck yourself. There is an unbridled exuberance to him that is endearing beyond words. Nowhere is this more present on the record than with the lead single “Frenzy”. Iggy hoots, howls, and hollers, then reminds you that you might be a “stone douchebag”. Don’t be a stone douchebag, folks.

Backed by an all-star cast of killer musicians, including Duff McKagan, Chad Smith, and Josh Klinghoffer, Iggy sounds in fine form throughout. Andrew Watt (who’s produced for everyone from Post Malone to Ozzy Osbourne, Cardi B to Eddie Vedder) smartly chooses to ride Iggy’s wave rather than swim against his tide by forcing any specific “sound” on him. The results are a beautifully uneven, often chaotic batch of tunes. “Strung Out Johnny” and “Comments” are callbacks to Iggy’s New Wave Berlin years with Bowie, “Neo Punk” is a not-so-subtle jab at the punk rock copycat kids who aped Iggy’s shit (perfect irony that Blink-182’s Travis Barker drums on this track), and “Morning Show” sounds like a tune that could have just as easily been written and performed by Kris Kristofferson. It’s exactly what you’d hope for from an Iggy Pop offering — all over the fuckin’ place.

There are also wonderful lyrical moments on the album, some deep self-reflection. “Morning Show” is vulnerable in a way that borders on disconcerting. As someone who ponders the aging process far more than I should, lines like “A future that is hopeless/Just make each day delicious/Time is like a peel/It opens and reveals” stick to me like barnacles to dock pilings. On “Comments”, another track where Iggy ponders mortality, he slows to a crawl to croak out, “The problem with life is that stops” before drummer Taylor Hawkins picks the pace back up with a deliciously poppy hi-hat attack. The passing of Hawkins after the recording of this album serves to further emphasize how quickly it can all be taken away. When Iggy closes the album with “While I’m alive, uncompromised”, well, folks, “there’s gold in them thar hills”.

Every Loser isn’t perfect, but it does perfectly straddle the line between pop and a punch in the face. Just like Iggy Pop. It’s accessible, but not too accessible. Just like Iggy Pop. You can wrap your arms around it, but if you keep hold of it after it growls, you’re probably gonna get split in half. Just like Iggy fuckin’ Pop.

Track List:

1. Frenzy 9/10
2. Strung Out Johnny 8/10
3. New Atlantis 8/10
4. Modern Day Ripoff 6/10
5. Morning Show 9/10
6. The News For Andy (Interlude) 8/10
7. Neo Punk 7/10
8. All The Way Down 7/10
9. Comments 8/10
10. My Animus (Interlude) 7/10
11. The Regency 8/10

Grade: 77