Iggy Pop has built up a healthy amount of cultural currency over the course of his 30 years behind a microphone. But you can’t always anticipate how he’s going to cash that in, such as the unusual licensing of “Lust For Life” in everything from Carnival Cruise ad to Rugrats Gone Wild or the amped up versions of Madonna hits that he and the Stooges did at her Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame induction.
So, it should come as little surprise that for his latest solo effort, Pop would cook up an album inspired by a Michel Houellebecq sci-fi novel that features him crooning over a synth-pop backing track, reeling off a spoken word tale about a favorite dog, and giving himself over to his inner Gainsbourg on a pair of tracks entitled “Les Feuilles Mortes” (”Dead Leaves”). The surprise is how well this album works, in spite of a curious mashing together of styles.
In fact, it’s oddly satisfying to hear Pop sound as playful and loose as he does on this new disc. His voice has never sounded this relaxed – just listen to his laidback swing through the New Orleans-style jazz number “King Of The Dogs” – and his ability to mold himself in with a tinny Dobro blues (”He’s Dead/She’s Alive”) or a quiet acoustic weeper (”Spanish Coast”).
Although there are tracks that hint at the Iggy Pop of old (see “She’s A Business”, the driving nod to his work with David Bowie, or the album’s sole rocker, “Nice To Be Dead”), he appears ready to settle into an elder statesman role at this point in his long career. It’s another unexpected move in a career full of them. But if it spurs such eclectic and far-reaching work as on this album, then it was the perfect step for him to take.
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[...] Or at least showing off his French vocab chops in titling his new album. [...]
June 2nd, 2009 at 4:27 pmThe Stooges are one of my all time favorite bands, but this “Preliminaires” reminded me of a bad heroin overdose. Sucked.
June 3rd, 2009 at 9:04 pmhttp://grimygoods.com/2009/06/02/%E2%80%9Cpreliminaires%E2%80%9D-by-iggy-pop-album-review/
13 Years ago I was a mulleted, fashionista who had known that music was my God Eternal early-like…I was a music first—>”anything goes after” kinda dude. Was nice with the likes of an Arthur Doll here and a Rodney on your mother%*%% there. Whoopie.
Just like Iggy knew his Ann Arbored factories and Black peeps+Stones, just like Bowie knew his…umm, Scott Amsterdam/Dada/Black peeps+Stones, I had my Bowie, Iggy, black peeps+stones. I considered myself a them like now- but…no copies please- I was also coming from a Bach/Germs/CCR/AfroCuban/CuriouslyBadJazz whatever thingy. Anyway, I managed to like the good stuff and practice all day long and look the bit. I knew who was where and what zeros to avoid cash-money transactions with. What I am saying is, I knew the good music. Ya see, Alice Cooper is almost good. Iggy Prime was Choice Cuts. No, not the friggin’ stooges dingo, but Kill City Iggy, Idiot Iggy, Lust Igg and well, I’ll throw in New Values- actually Endless Sea is worth about 10 great songs by itself. Anywhat, I pounded the drums to Hunt’s style 6 hours a day. Eh? That jew’s got rhythym-talmud! I was satisfied after 1 year of playing along to the first 4 damn songs on lust 4 life. The subtle swing that Bowie got with his blacks from NYC (George M, Dennis Davis) is connected not by mistake with the subtle jew-schwing Igg got from his fellow Jewery dudes (idiot, L4L). I tell you all, They swing more cubanish than tight r and b- the jews more than the blacks…I happen to like that better, it’s fucking subtle and hard and Iggy knew exactly what the fuck was going on. I did see that black chick in an Eldorado. Cheap. I know.
Here comes the part that still kind-o-does-no-make-a-no-sense. WTF did Mister Osterberg think during uhhhh…Zombie this, Party, BrickxBrick??, Doggy, AVE B, Beat it (uhhh) up, American ouch it’s bad, this that, I mean, crap Bowie did a fine bad job in the 80’s for a bit…played a round with tin dudes and well, started to create things new to him…I believe The Wild-Eyed Freeclouded Bowie made a phonecall to IGGY after the Berlin/Odd Black and White Cover Photo Days, AFTER listening to One of Those Holocaustic Post New-Values shits and said something close/verbose to (I imagine bowie using his “soft I know but what the hell” brit voice) “IGGY, WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING. YOU ARE MAKING SHIT MUSIC. WHAT…THE….FUCK.” That was my reaction upon listening to pretty much every Iggy Tune since what he had cut in 1980. How could this be? It was a total fuck-over for me. Ya see, Iggy fucked me by doing whatever the fuck he did not do. Yeah yeah I’ve been druggy idiot (i know argh) but never have I done…hmmmm 1981-2008….27 or so YEARS of CLUNKER ASS MUSIC. It’s because it’s him, such a fucking dude so capable of incredible shit…well It was like finding out santa clause was fake times A BILLION. That fucker broke my heart. It was so…ugly seeing him with the likes of asshole Lenny Kravitz (2 Jews!!!) tryin’ to get “it” back. It sucked seeing his shit band play songs that require a 70’s R&B sense of LIVING to pull of those oldies proper- NEVER again will I hear Lust For Life Played TEN Times fast with full white anti-swing destroying all goodness in this place. Argh….hemlock, double please.
So, I accidentally picked up a MOJO and cursed loudly in the Border’s Books and Stuff. “Awwww ffffffuuuuuuckkkk. Iggy, new album. Christ save me for real. Oh fucking shit, Serge??? What no Birkin???? No Stupid terrible bad Gainsbourgggge? uhhh, I read more: “YAY! Iggy goes Tom Fucking Wait….don’t even finish that….that horrible hackneyed fuck, who decided to put on a hat, sound like an idiot, compose childish “compositions, not songs mind you” with elements of minimalfuckingism and the avant-street whatever posier pussy Webern 5th Viennese School of “Tough and Well Read” turd. Well, par usual during Times Like These, It occured to me for the 46th time, that I always carry a very sharp knife. I locked it open, rolled up my sleeve as to expose the wrist/vein/death-zone…and all of a sudden I heard the fucking album and these words follow:
Yes I hear a Npr Sounding Terri Gross “Big Beat” Song 2 close for Tom for me, get it? Yes…I hear the Francoise whatever french duet thingy and I hear the expected “i’ve got a doooobooro. Blues. Wow”….BUT what made me eat shit was that YES some real gems here and YES, a fucking cut made me cry furilla.
When Ron died and I read Iggy’s few words of remorse, I felt it. Felt it good.
I am NOT a reviewer and post this protracted post because hearing a good IGGY at last is way worth it…don’t care if an album has 12 awesome songs or 1 awesome awesome song. Mister Jim touched me with the emotional feather today. It’s like a small miracle. Actually, maybe a legit fat miracle.
Today is a holiday. God Bless Iggy!!!
-Andor
June 11th, 2009 at 5:57 amI love this album. It’s Party Time ROCKS, so does She’s a Business, plus others – this deserves listening!!!!!
August 12th, 2009 at 8:36 pm