Sonja and I watched Iggy Pop's whole Post Pop Depression Royal Albert Hall show last night. If you, like I, still have a rock 'n' roll heart you owe it to yourself to see and hear this rock show.
Iggy may not be quite the man he was in 1969 but he is still plenty man enough for me.
His band, and he has had some fucking great ones over the years, has to be his best ever. Motherfuckers got it going on.
The material, drawn almost entirely from songs Iggy wrote with David Bowie (who had only just died when the show took place) in the latter half of the 1970s and songs co-wrote with Josh Homme for his latest record all comes from the top fucking drawer of the big catalogue of wicked shit my favourite street walking cheetah has recorded over the years.
Package I bought included two CDs of the entire show. Listened to that as I made my way to and from a union meeting today.
I have been lucky to have Iggy Pop contributing some of the best songs that have made up the sound track to my fucking life. And I know I have been even luckier to have the old boy around so fucking long.
Fuck, yeah. It is great to be alive.
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