2003-11-05 - 1:31 p.m.
my iggy
who art in newbury comics
james osterberg be thy name
thy stooges come
thy rock be done
in alewife as it is in heaven
give me this day my iggy pop
and forgive us our dance moves
as we forgive those who dance near us
and lead me directly into temptation
but deliver us punk rock...
yesterday was a long day my pretties. i barely got home from cambridge when i realized it was time to get in the car and head back. i got all revved up on the way when i heard "i wanna be your dog" on the radio. i picked up iggy's #2 fan and we headed to the show. when we got there, our hearts sank. the line was incredibly long: around one corner, snaking down the side of a building and all the way down to the end of a dead end street. we got into the line with much grumbling and began shivering almost immediately. i think we got our place in line at 8:10pm and we were still standing there an hour later with no end in sight. we were kinda surly.
however to back up a bit, around 8:40pm or so, i looked up from my cigarette to see a rather diminutive man with painted-on jeans and longish hair and a jean jacket crossing the street. i ran out into the street (this guy was at least 30 yards away) and realized that the little guy illuminated by the streetlight was indeed iggy. i was too far away to run and catch up to him and he was surrounded by two big goons. i am proud to say that i'm the only one in the area of the line that even noticed him: it was meant to be. i made a sufficient scene when i ran out into the street and was pointing forward, mouth agape, and trying to explain to brett that iggy was up the street. do i regret not running up the street like a crazy person and probably tripping and falling in front of a line full of people? yes, yes i do.so sometime way after 9:15pm, we began filing in. of course, brett and i had a terrible vantage point. i can't believe there were so many people with afros in front of me. it was like a cruel joke. i held up my disposable camera in the air (in vain) trying to get a picture of my precious. i couldn't even see him, except for quick flashes of arm or eyes every few minutes. so that was disappointing, but i kept thinking of being at the show this summer right in front of him and that sated me. i'd also like to state for the record that this is the only time ever that i've been mad at brett for not being tall and for being too thin. why? because there is no fucking way i could've climbed on his shoulders to get a better view, like all the fucking bitches on the backs of fat men around me. i contemplated putting brett on my shoulders, but that never came to pass.
but the music, my babies, the music made everything better. heavy heavy heavy on the old stuff, just like i hoped for: loose, tv eye, down on the street, 1969, no fun, real cool time, not right, and dead rock star/skull ring (these last two are from the new album - yuck.) i have to say my favorite song he played was a slowed-down completely erotic version of "i wanna be your dog". literally, it made me want to take my pants off right there in the aisle next to the playstation games. meow.
so it was iggy and the asheton bros. i couldn't see anything but i found out later that drummer asheton was playing a travel suitcase as a drumkit, which i find both completely insane and totally inspiring (found objects make rock music!). the stripped down touted "acoustic" (they were plugged in) sound was truly incredible. since i couldn't see my baby, it was almost like i was in my bedroom with my eyes closed listening to him singing on headphones. we danced as best as you can in the aisle at newbury comics. my tongue made a surprise guest appearance during "i wanna be your dog"; i don't know why iggy has that effect on me.
iggy was an elder statesman playing "storyteller" between songs, i now know why all the above songs were written. here's a secret: they're mostly about balling chicks and drug-induced/influenced thinking. god, i love iggy.
at some points we were almost giddy with the fact that we couldn't see shit. i began taking pictures of other things that surrounded us during the show: iggy's wife's tits reflected in the mirror above our heads; a guy that literally could've been kurt cobain; and the ubiquitous "hold out the camera and take a bad picture of you and your friend." i can't wait to see how they come out...
so what you're all waiting for: did i meet him? no, my babies, i didn't. i didn't have anything for him to sign (although momentarily i considered my tits). and he was signing only, and the line was literally 500 peeps deep. instead we left, enjoying cigarettes on the walk to the car, feeling deeply satisfied, but by no means as profoundly affected as the show this summer.
i've now seen iggy (in the front row -remember?) and i've "seen" iggy and the stooges so i can die happy. it's really ok that i didn't get to meet him, because i know it's gonna happen someday...
