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Rating: My dog, the only friend of the gluttonous man, is called Iggy.
Iggy is very nice. He looks a bit like an Idiot, but he is very, very nice.
Above all, he is very obedient. As soon as I give him an order, he runs straight to me.
Iggy wags his tail as soon as he sees me arriving in the morning to change his water bowl. I feed him, of course, with leftovers from my meals, and he thanks me with his chubby smile.
In winter, I sometimes try to put a sweater on him that I made with my own hands, but he absolutely refuses. He is fine the way he is.
I know that I could treat him terribly if I wanted to, without him even considering the thought of rebelling in the waiting room of his brain.
It truly is a great satisfaction to have a little dog underfoot, unyielding in his role as the master's subordinate friend.
Well, Iggy my dog is the exact canine replica of the tail-wagging Iggy barking behind Bowie during 1976/1977.
They must have made a great couple together. One the submissive, the other the God to whom to bow down.
They got into all sorts of troubles, the two of them! For example, the lyrics of "Always Crashing In The Same Car" (which is in Low, and even the stones know it's a track from Low) sprang from a crazy night spent by Bowie and Iggy during the recordings of Low. They met a guy who sold them some terrible drugs, and in revenge, they drove over his parked car multiple times. On the way back to the hotel, they stayed in the underground parking lot, spinning around like madmen in the car, nearly challenging death. Luckily, the car's gas ran out first...
Getting back to us, “The Idiot,” without beating around the bush, served Bowie to experiment with his new sounds on his favorite guinea pig: Iggy.
Not for nothing, it was finished before “Low” but released afterward, so critics wouldn't think Bowie might have copied from Iggy (imagine that).
In this album, Iggy is so subservient to his deity Bowie that he sells his soul and face just to produce an album that has nothing to do with the stage beast he has always been since the days of the Stooges.
I honestly have a laugh every time I pull out this album from my collection of “Bowie & Surroundings” (I have everything from the White Duke, even the original single released in Japan for an advertisement [Crystal Japan] which inspired good old Trent Reznor for the ambient piece in the middle of The Downward Spiral... I broke the bank to get it. Yes, I admit it, I'm a bit ashamed of it, but indeed I haven't only listened to Bowie in my entire life. Maybe I don't deserve the title of Bowie's best fan, but I swear to you: I live for Bowie. David, if you're reading this review, know that you're always in my thoughts!).
Sorry, I lost my way.
So, as I was saying, when I pull out this album from my Bowieteca, I look at the cover and read: “Iggy Pop = The Idiot.” Fitting for someone who at that time was the puppet of his majesty Bowie.
For heaven’s sake, the production of the album is by Bowie and therefore splendidly excellent. I enjoy listening to this album (I would even listen to an album made from recordings of Bowie's toilet flush), but I can't help but laugh heartily thinking of The Idiot, the little dog, the guinea pig of his magnificence David who worse than Faust sold his Stoogesian soul for Uncle David's experiments.
The ratings anyway are:
- Iggy's contribution to the album: 2
- Bowie's production: 5
- Iggy's dignity during the period 1976/1977: 1
Sorry, but I’ll close this review now. Iggy asks me for kibble, but today I’m giving him only some leftovers from my Bowie's kitchen. I really want to see how he’ll take it.
Long live Bowie and long live Ziggy (I adore you, David!)
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Sister Midnight (04:19)
Calling Sister Midnight
You've got me reaching for the moon
Calling Sister Midnight
You've got me playing the fool
Calling Sister Midnight
Calling Sister Midnight
Can you hear me call
Can you hear me well
Can you hear me at all
Calling Sister Midnight
I'm an idiot for you
Calling Sister Midnight
I'm a breakage inside
Calling Sister Midnight
Calling Sister Midnight
You know I had a dream last night
Mother was in my bed
And I made love to her
Father he gunned for me
Hunted me with his six gun
Calling Sister Midnight
What can I do about my dreams
Listen to me Sister Midnight
You put a beggar in my heart
Calling Sister Midnight
You've got me walking in rags
Hey where are you Sister Midnight
Can you hear me call
Can you hear me well
Can you hear me at all
02 Nightclubbing (04:14)
Nightclubbing we're nightclubbing
We're what's happening
Nightclubbing we're nightclubbing
We're an ice machine
We see people brand new people
They're something to see
When we're nightclubbing
Bright-white clubbing
Oh isn't it wild?
Nightclubbing we're nightclubbing
We're walking through town
Nightclubbing we're nightclubbing
We walk like a ghost
We learn dances brand new dances
Like the nuclear bomb
When we're nightclubbing
Bright white clubbing
Oh isn't it wild...
03 Funtime (02:54)
Fun
Hey baby we like your lips
Fun
Hey baby we like your pants
All aboard for funtime
Fun
Hey, I feel lucky tonight
Fun
I'm gonna get stoned and run around
All aboard for funtime
Fun
Last night I was down in the lab
Fun
Talkin' to Dracula and his crew
All aboard for funtime
Fun
I don't need no heavy trips
Fun
I just do what I want to do
All aboard for funtime
Fun
Baby baby we like your lips
Fun
Baby baby we like your pants
All aboard for funtime
Fun
Everybody we want in
Fun
We want some we want some
All aboard for funtime
Fun
Baby baby we like your lips
Fun
Baby baby we like your pants
All aboard for funtime
05 China Girl (05:08)
I couldn't escape this feeling with my China Girl
I'm just a wreck without my little China Girl
I hear her heart beating loud as thunder
Saw the stars crashing
I'm a mess without my China Girl
Wake up mornings, where's my little China Girl
I hear hearts beating loud as thunder
I see stars crashing down
I feel tragic like I was Marlon Brando
When I look at my China Girl
I could pretend that nothing really meant too much
When I look at my China Girl
I stumble into town just like a sacred cow
Visions of swastikas in my head
And plans for everyone
It's in the white of my eyes
My little China Girl, you shouldn't mess with me
I'll ruin everything you are
I'll give you television, I'll give you eyes of blue
I'll give you men who want to rule the world
And when I get excited
My little China Girl says
Oh baby, just you shut your mouth
She says shhhh
08 Mass Production (08:24)
Before you go Do me a favour Give me a number Of a girl almost like you With legs almost like you I'm buried deep in mass production You're not nothing new I like to drive along the freeways See the smokestacks belching Breasts turn brown So warm and so brown Though I try to die You put me back on the line Oh damn it to hell Back on the line--hell Back on the line Again and again I'm back on the line Again and again And I see my face here And it's there in the mirror And it's up in the air And I'm down on the ground By the way I'm going for cigarettes And since you've gotta go Won't you do me that favour Won't you give me that number Won't you get me that girl Yeah, she's almost like you Yes, she's almost like you And I'm almost like him Yes, I'm almost like him Yes, I'm almost like him Yeah, I'm almost like him
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Other reviews
By Mr.Moustache
The vocal line emerges right away from its personal catacomb in 'Sister Midnight,' and you already begin to understand that what he is singing is Iggy Pop, not his image, just him.
'Mass Production' is a painfully slow ballad celebrating unconscious self-destruction, a journey mortally wounded.
By Blackdog
The cold heartbeat of Nightclubbing is an electroshock with the fumes of Alomar’s acid guitar: prelude to post-punk, a signal from a near future of 'unknown pleasures'.
Calling Sister Midnight, I’m an idiot for you.. A roof, a shelter for two shipwrecked souls hostage to an executioner’s fate.
By Blackdog
"'The Idiot' is an absolute, epochal album. Irritating in its modernity."
"James Newell Osterberg, aka Iggy Pop, had already understood that the risk was a dialogue between replicants."
By DonCallisto
It starts with a slow rhythm from a determined bass and cutting guitars... reminds me of David Bowie in Low, the first of the Berlin trilogy.
Most of you, at the minute 0:43 after 30 seconds of doubtful and disgusted faces, will say, 'what the hell is this crap?!?!'... But I highly recommend it to those who like Berlinese Bowie.
