Posts Tagged ‘The Stooges’

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Named an Official Selection to the New York, Toronto and Cannes film festivals, Gimmie Danger presents The Stooges story and explores its influences and impact, complete with some never-before-seen footage and photographs. Rhino Records released the perfect complement to the film with GIMME DANGER: MUSIC FROM THE MOTION PICTURE, a 14 track digital compilation that focus on the group’s first three studio albums  THE STOOGES, FUN HOUSE, and IGGY AND THE STOOGES’ RAW POWER, featuring band members Iggy Pop, Ron and Scott Asheton, Dave Alexander, and James Williamson.

“It’s June 9th. We are in an undisclosed location. We are interrogating Jim Osterberg about the Stooges, the greatest rock and roll band ever.” So begins Jim Jarmusch’s affectionate, thorough documentary – a film in which violence is swift and random, household objects are employed during the making of music, Wimbledon provides an unlikely recording location and John Wayne cameos alongside David Bowie, Art Garfunkel and Nico. One anecdote involves a tab of mescalin and a shovel. For the first gig, the singer was made up in white face, wearing an aluminum afro wig and a maternity smock and played a vacuum cleaner on stage. There are drugs, chaos, more drugs. Death, redemption, riffs are all present. As Iggy notes dryly, “It ain’t too easy being the Stooges sometimes, you know?”

Iggy Pop is a predictably charismatic narrator. Around him weave occasional testimonies from bandmates Ron and Scott Asheton, Steve Mackay and James Williamson, as well as latter-day Stooge Mike Watt, A&R man Danny Fields and the Ashetons sister, Kathy. Witty, clear-eyed, self-deprecating, Iggy Pop is capable of delivering golden lines like “In the Ashetons, I found primitive man” as well brilliantly composed, off-the-cuff comments, such as when he relates his experiences as a drummer in Chicago: “I saw a little glimpse of a deeper life, of people who in their adulthood had not lost their childhood”.

Jarmusch traces the band’s evolution from the trailer parks of Ann Arbour, Michigan to their split in 1973 and then reunion in 2003. Needless to say, is a bumpy ride. But Jarmusch is intent on following the music, as much as anything else. The band’s experimental urges – they liked nothing better than turning off the lights and playing Harry Partch recordings – find shape and focus, they travel to New York to work with John Cale on their debut album. The confrontational aspect both of their music and Iggy’s stage presence is well illustrated in vintage clips and photography. Look, here’s Iggy, wearing silver gloves, a dog collar and jeans, throwing himself into the crowd on live TV.

Elsewhere, Jarmusch makes do with contemporaneous library footage and animated passages reminiscent of Julien Temple’s filmmaking technique. Jarmusch keeps the focus on the Stooges – there are many opportunities for digression – and particularly the music to the extent Gimme Danger could benefit from some deeper contextualizing, but nevertheless it is a staggeringly good film. During one archive TV interview, Pop sit nestled next to David Bowie on the sofa of a chat show, and is asked what, if any, does he think his contribution to music has been. “I think I helped wipe out the Sixties,” he drawls.

Iggy Pop and filmmaker Jim Jarmusch to talk about their new documentary ‘Gimme Danger.‘ The film, which has been eight long years in the making, focuses on the legendary rock band, The Stooges, and how they reinvented music as we know it.

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The Stooges debut album from 1969 didn’t even crack the Top 100 album chart, so it wasn’t like too many people were waiting for the follow-up. Which was just fine. Without expectations, the band was free to explore almost any path it wanted to on the follow up  “Fun House”The Stooges (1970): Here’s where the first seeds of punk sprung, and with such force that ‘Fun House’ still sounds fresh. The funny part? Iggy Pop says he drew inspiration not from fellow modernists like MC5, but from Chicago blues master Howlin’ Wolf.

Still, their record company had faith in them and the Stooges were slowly picking up fans with their plugged-in, distortion-overloaded brand of scuzzy garage rock. So the second album, while maybe not as anticipated as some of the other post-hippie records that were starting to trickle out around the same time, was still under the watchful eye of the band’s bosses.

The label enlisted former Kingsmen keyboardist Don Gallucci to run the sessions, which were already booked for a two-week period in the middle of May 1970 in Los Angeles. And like former Velvet Underground member John Cale, who produced the Stooges’ self-titled debut, Gallucci realized that the group’s proto-punk attack wasn’t easily captured on tape. So he did what he figured was the most sensible thing: He had the band play the handful of new songs it had written for the album a dozen times each, sorting through them later to pick out the most usable version.

Not that that made things any easier. As anyone who’s heard Fun House in the years since its release in July 1970 (or especially the seven-disc, 1999 box set 1970: The Complete Fun House Sessions) can tell you, the record is one of the most abrasive, pummeling and aggressive sonic assaults ever made. Capturing that on tape, and then settling on a definitive version, must have been no easy task.

But because the Stooges really had almost nothing to lose — their debut made little to no impression in mainstream circles they pretty much recorded Fun House the way they played live with their amps cranked to full power, band members huddled together in one room, singer Iggy Pop recreating his stage show in the studio.

The result is one of the most primal and unhinged albums ever made. Saxophone player Steve Mackay, a temporary addition to the band who also came from the Stooges’ hometown of Detroit, blurts his way through songs in an acid-damaged take on free-jazz pioneer Ornette Coleman’s improvised soloing, pushing Fun House into a sort of avant-jazz proto-punk garage scuzz-rock genre all its own.

From the opening smackdown combo “Down on the Street” , The Stooges could groove with the best of ’em as ‘Down On The Street’ proudly proves. The opening track on the band’s 1970 classic ‘Funhouse’ is hard, loud and heavy for sure, but that rhythm section of Scott Asheton and Dave Alexander drive this thing home. Ron Asheton’s guitar is brutal, while Iggy is in full force here. The song was released as a single, with added organ that, while adding a cool spice to the mix, ultimately cluttered the song. Pure bravado like this needs no extra ingredients.

“Loose” How many different ways can we say ‘sex,’ ‘danger,’ when talking about the Stooges? This is not music for the faint of heart, or the lame of mind. It’s gutturally cerebral, or was that cerebrally guttural? Either way you slice the cake, it oozes the same tasty slime to bathe in. Bring your unhinged self and immerse in the glory of it all. When Iggy sings, “Now I’m putting it to you straight from hell,” he ain’t kidding, and when he sings, “I’ll stick it deep inside,” well, we’ll leave that one up to you.

“T.V. Eye” “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to violence, the word and the act.” One of the most righteous screams ever opens this barn burner. The guitar riff from the heavens above pummels into the brain as the onslaught builds. The whole song sounds like a riotous street fight as guitars slash like razors, drums splatter like machine gun fire, and Iggy screeches like a Molotov cocktail.

The closing “L.A. Blues,” probably the most unstructured song released by a major label during the first half of the ’70s,  “Fun House” is a mess of sloppy guitar riffs, thrashing drums, larynx-shredding screams and saxophones .  check out “1970” Over a Bo Diddley-inspired rhythm, the Stooges blast through this primal, life affirming rocker. The song’s riff, described by original Damned guitarist Brian James as “instant mayhem,” is relentless. You simply can’t help but get sucked into the vortex here. This song, and the attitude within, probably put more fuel in the tanks of punk rock, noise rock, and grunge, but still trumps them all in spades. The chaos grows and by the end of the song, the appearance of wild sax from Steve Mackay takes the whole thing into the stratosphere.

It’s also brilliant, a pre-punk milestone years ahead of the movement it unwittingly helped inspire.

Any surprise then that the album fared even worse than its predecessor? The Stooges didn’t even make the Top 200 this time, and when the band regrouped, after breaking up, a couple of years later to record its third LP, “Raw Power”, it was for a different record company. Drug addiction, alcoholism, low record sales — nobody could blame Elektra for severing its ties with the band. And hardly anyone noticed. At the time, anyway. It would take a  fair few years, but “Fun House” eventually became known as an early punk classic, a landmark that inspired its fans to pick up instruments, not bother to tune them and bash out unregulated noise that amounted to a merciless attack on all accessible senses.