“I Wanna Be Your Dog” from The Stooges (1969)
“I Wanna Be Your Dog” isn’t just an expression of self-deprecation and sexual submission. It’s a plea to be accepted — for three minutes, at least — as something other than human. In 1969, Iggy Pop was still learning how to be a rock ‘n’ roll frontman, but he knew from watching The Doors’ Jim Morrison and The Rolling Stones’ Mick Jagger that it hinged on eliciting an extreme reaction every time he stepped onstage. Rolling around bare-chested and covered in broken glass, Pop presented himself as both a superhuman and a kind of depraved monster; in the early punk rock universe, the two were nearly one and the same.
Perhaps more than any other song on The Stooges’ self-titled debut, “I Wanna Be Your Dog” established a template other bands could latch onto. Here were three distorted chords, a single-note piano riff, and not much else. The music’s simplicity and insistent repetition turns the listener’s attention to Pop’s vocal performance, which finds him literally flailing around on the ground and begging to be an object of exploitation. “I Wanna Be Your Dog” may be considered dumb or crass compared to Pop’s later work, but it also established him as a sort of anti-rock frontman. This guy wants to be beneath you, not towering above the crowd from a safe perch onstage. In 1969, there was something truly frightening about that kind of inversion.
Pop Minus “Pop”
“L.A. Blues” from Fun House (1970)
Fun House is Pop’s most gleefully anarchic album, a feverish, ferocious mess that happened to be miles ahead of its time when it was released in July of 1970. Whereas The Stooges’ self-titled debut scratched the primal itch so insistently that it seemed almost anti-intellectual, Fun House demands that all critical faculties be fully engaged.
To call this album merely difficult is to deny the raw pleasures of a song like “L.A. Blues”, a jazz punk freak-out that finds Pop screaming his lungs out amidst a hurricane of distorted guitars, atonal saxophones, and haphazard snare beats. There’s not even the slightest pretense of pop structure, thank god, because such a structure would only serve to impose an artificial limit on what sounds like a limitless brand of aggression. The Stooges would go on to title their next album Raw Power, but they never sounded rawer or more powerful than they do in the final five minutes of Fun House.
Heart Full of Napalm
“Search and Destroy” from Raw Power (1973)
The Stooges were a band in turmoil after the limited success of their self-titled debut and follow-up, Fun House. Pop was struggling to kick heroin and retreated to London, where he reformed the band and recorded what would become their most iconic album, 1973’s Raw Power. Opening track “Search and Destroy” breaks down the door like a bulldozer, then slices through any remaining rubble with a trebly guitar lead that ranks among the most recognizable in punk rock.
Though its title comes from a headline about the Vietnam War, “Search and Destroy” is less interested in politics than in co-opting the language of war (“runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb,” “heart full of napalm,” “love in the middle of a firefight”) to describe Pop’s own self-destructive mentality. As would become clear on The Stooges’ 1976 live album Metallic K.O., every time Pop went on stage he was at war with his audience. Describing his musical mission in militaristic terms doesn’t actually seem that crazy.
“Louie Louie” from Metallic K.O. (1976)
Only 10 songs and we choose a cover? Before you start chucking the beer bottles, hear us out. At least half of Iggy Pop’s allure came from his dangerous, destructive live performances, several of which ended with him and the rest of the Stooges being chased out of the club. Such was often the case when they launched into their sloppy, heavily altered version of Richard Berry’s “Louie Louie”, a rock standard blown up from the inside out.
Lots of artists release unnecessary live albums to raise a little cash, but Metallic K.O. is an essential document of The Stooges at their rawest and most, um, powerful. For a band that often sounded like they were going to implode in the studio, this was the next level of mayhem. The band’s cover of “Louie Louie” somehow both honors their rock ‘n’ roll forebears and spits on their legacy. In other words, it’s punk at its best.
The Bowie Years
“Sister Midnight” from The Idiot (1977)
Few musical partnerships have borne richer fruit than the unlikely pairing of Iggy Pop and David Bowie, both of whom had moved to Berlin in 1977 to kick their various drug addictions. But what began as a retreat from the world eventually turned into an explosion of creativity that resulted in classic albums like Bowie’s Low and Pop’s wildly divergent solo debut, The Idiot.
Though the artists recorded under their own names, they had a deep influence on each other’s work. Bowie co-wrote and performed on several of The Idiot’s standout tracks, including “China Girl” and album opener “Sister Midnight”. The latter was one of the duo’s earliest collaborations, and it set the tone for an album that would sound nothing like Pop’s previous work with The Stooges. Some fans still can’t connect with the track’s Kraftwerkian synths and off-kilter rhythms, but even they can’t deny that it represents Pop at the weirdest and most ambitious phase of his career.