Live Review: Iggy Pop

Iggy Pop played the first of his three Bluesfest sideshows at the Sydney Opera House last night, to the sheer delight of fans young and old. 

We sat next to a bloke who grinned when telling us he saw The Stooges in 1973 in Scotland, and spent the entire set bouncing around with more fervour than we’ve maybe seen any boomer dance – except to ABBA. Meanwhile up in the boxes, a young woman expressed her enthusiasm by throwing her bra to the stage towards the end of the set, but the 71-year-old Pop, shirtless as ever, didn’t seem to notice.

Entering the Concert Hall to a swelling orchestral score, Pop kicked off the set with The Stooges’ I Wanna Be Your Dog, a song is that is 50 years old and still wails, wearing a leopard-print jacket to hide his modesty, but it didn’t last long. The pure rock’n’roller, who mixed handwritten poetry with “a proclivity for getting really fucked up”, stalked his way around the stage as the crowd immediately rose to their feet. He went on to play a series of Stooges tracks, as well as his solo material, from Search & Destroy and 1969 to Gimme Danger and Real Cool Time – it sure was – with No Fun a set highlight when punters surged onto stage, Pop the conductor of a very unruly choir. 

Songs like a cover of Bowie’s The Jean Genie – whose protagonist was described by Bowie as an “Iggy-type character” – saw Pop standing at the front of the stage absolutely beaming at the crowd, who as a whole never sat down, instead leaning forward to get as close to the man as they could. He donned a cape for Nightclubbing, a song like Lust For Life – which obviously also got a run – that feels inextricable from Trainspotting, but he dropped it fairly quickly, favouring unrestricted movement.

The whole night was marked by Pop’s high energy and the tight playing of his band, allowing him to focus instead on almost gyrating around the stage, always standing with his right hip popped out. If you looked away, you missed seeing the legend careening around while howling into the mic, punching the air or kicking over his mic stand. He’d attempt to get close to the crowd by wandering into the side aisle or sitting at the very edge of the stage, afterwards somehow thrusting himself upright. 

His band left the stage after Real Wild Child (Wild One), the crowd cheering and Pop soaking up the adulation, seemingly rubbing it all over his chest. They quickly reemerged, and Iggy Pop closed his masterful set with an Australian song he said he knew the words to, a cover of Nick Cave’s Red Right Hand, to which he somehow added a layer of extra menace; “Let’s make it sleazy now,” he cried, before hurling his mic into the air. He sashayed across the stage, waving wildly, arm fully outstretched, like a kid trying to catch the attention of his mum, to say goodbye.