Live Review: Iggy & The Stooges

A shirtless and surprisingly clean-haired Iggy Pop joins a pretty fucking heavy hitting conglomeration of Stooges – Mike Watt on bass, James Williamson on guitar, sax player Steve MacKay and drummer Toby Dammit – onto the stage in unassuming fashion before erupting into a Raw Power/Gimme Danger one-two punch. There's no looking back; nobody can unlearn the lessons in dedication to craft that he and band deliver tonight.

Pop's upper body may not have aged in 20 years but his limp is pronounced. His gyrations and moves come across comical when coupled with his jerking leg drags. He can still pull all the tricks – bum shake, mic-stand hump, dog, jumping jacks, na-na-na ear-flares et cetera – but mentally wrestles with his slowing lower half to keep up with his demands. A dirge-like new number, Burn, gives a slight reprieve from the onslaught before 1970 rekindles the blaze and gives MacKay a chance to really open up.

At the request of Pop the stage is invaded for Fun House (a highlight is Pop telling security to “have a sense of humour” – yeah right). They burn through the hits and only deviate from the band material for a couple of post-Stooges Iggy Pop & James Williamson numbers – Beyond The Law, Kill City and a fucking dark and creepy version of Johanna. Williamson is a dynamo on guitar and duels with Watt on a level playing field (no mean feat after a 30-something-year layoff). Other highlights of the main set include Pop taking the floor, barking and rolling his way into a frenetic I Wanna Be Your Dog (complete with slowed-down final verse and subsequent chorus eruption) and a blistering Search & Destroy.

The false ending is short lived and the band members waddle back out for a five-part encore encompassing a couple of oldies in Penetration and Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell, a newie called Dirty Deal, the downright lyrical highlight of the evening, I Got A Right, and closer Open Up & Bleed. It could be said this tune (and the chosen title of the Paul Trynka-penned Pop biography of 2008) summates this man and his dedication to his art. He bleeds this night as he has bled throughout the 45-odd years of his music career. The crowd stand cheering as Watt and Dammit remain the last two battling it out on stage. At the death, Watt tosses his bass, bows, delicately places his glasses on his face and limps from the stage.