But trust that I am using the word very precisely when I say he is rock incarnate. This is the meat of the matter, physicality, the exaltation of cocks, the mystery of our very embodiment alight with anarchic spark. This is Iggy Pop’s body, broken for you. And we do drink in remembrance of him. He is sixty-four today.
Alas, Iggy was sporting a muffin top a few weeks back when he made a surprise (and as far as Jennifer Lopez was concerned, unwelcome) visit to the American Idol stage. But still…
Sorry: can’t find the infamous “Jeannie Becker/New Music” interview from the Police Picnic, so: