After years of screwing around and listening here and there to a few songs, I decided to buy an album that I should have bought and listened to years ago: Raw Power by Iggy & The Stooges.
It is far and away one of the best albums I’ve listened to recently, if not ever. From the first song to the last, there isn’t a single one that isn’t bone-shakingly, face-meltingly awesome. Here in Malaysia, with mainly Top 40 and Chinese pop (C-Pop?) on the radio, it’s easy to forget how good rock ‘n’ roll used to be. There’s a werewolf gnawing on a guitar, and the rhythm section pours out ordered chaos like a chum bucket in a rough sea. Iggy himself howls and wails as if possessed, and while he’s freakish and belligerent, he’s not incoherent, lyrics spotted with moments of genius, like this line from “Gimme Danger”:
There’s nothin’ in my dreams but some ugly memories, kisses like the ocean breeze.
It’s enough to make a weary soul believe in the Power of Rock again. And in some ways, it’s better than sex.