“Fucking thank you for showing up, thank you! Fucking hell, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” Iggy Pop is shirtless, smiling, and shimmering with sweat. He jams his mic into his tuxedo pants, which are still thrusting to a phantom beat. The crowd he’s thanking would be just as thrilled to be spat on as they would to hold his hand. And in a matter of minutes, he gives them both.
Iggy Pop taking aim
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The Capitol Theatre, in all its glory, is sweltering with the scent of unbathed punks (as it should be), and Iggy is pleased. “I think God and the devil both blessed Port Chester!” he roars, which triggers a special exchange. We love him, clearly. But he loves us too. And the moment we feel it, we lose our minds. “I feel like I’m getting to know you all a little better,” he purrs, pushing us further over the edge of obsession.
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Backed by an extremely slick 5-piece for his Post Pop Depression Tour, including Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age, Iggy’s free to cut loose and let them steer. The snap of the drums is hypnotic and the guitarists are brutally cool – a perfect foundation for his deep, tremulous voice. Classics like “Lust for Life,” “Sister Midnight,” “The Passenger,” and “China Girl” suddenly sound brand new. Brand new songs like “Sunday,” “Gardenia,” and “Chocolate Drops” are inseparable from the classics.
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Bare-chested and ruthless, Iggy unravels with grace. He punches the air, humps an amp, and sends his mic stand flying across the stage – just like we want him to. He dives over the pit and into our hands, bounding down to the ground so he can roam around the room. Years of unhinged emotions bubble up to the top, until all he can do is scream along with us. “I want to go somewhere where people are still human beings!” he shrieks. But the glimmer in his eyes says “I’m here.”
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FTW – Iggy Pop
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Article: Olivia Isenhart
Photos: Bryan Lasky
