"Woaaaaauuuu I've been DIRT! But I don't care!"
Ladies and gentlemen, behold my father, the one who raised me in his home, between a can of Bud and a book by Wittgenstein: His Majesty Iggy Pop, with the faithful dirty rockers of the Stooges; ah, that sneaky guitar of Ron Asheton! It makes the hair on your legs stand up, leaves you drained and bloodless as after a good romp with your woman! WOALEEEEEE!
If the anthem was 1969 before, now arrives 1970, the most classic lubricious rock, where you can express all your latent phallocracy, throwing yourself off the stage with your penis in hand towards the most beautiful woman.
Let's raise the poles in honor of the great man, flood the turntable with seed because the iguana screams in your face, defying the onanistic critics, he drops his jeans and shows the club like a trophy, he dances a jig on your sacrum and makes your ears explode with filth you've been listening to for ages.
This is the pure essence of rock and roll: a primitive genius coming out of the cave with his club and shouting "BUAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHH", forget the black monolith, it's men like this that have advanced human history, from hypertrichotic specimens to the falsely nude and evolved ones of today.
Well, if that's the case, I want my fur back, I want my club back, and to dance to the sound of the super-acidic sax that bursts here and there like a mad lightning bolt, as if waking up in the morning you find yourself transformed into lustful little wolves and she lying by your side, recalcitrant, pushes you away, but the party has just begun!
"Oh look out" starts Loose and whoever doesn't get excited needs a truckload of Viagra or is depressed and will spend life listening to Black Metal.
"ALWAYYYS LOOOOSE" The Iguana destroys all the nu metallers of this earth, sends them home to eat condensed milk... leave the stage to the great dirty rocker, he'll paint his penis red and bang it on your head so hard you can't help but dance the super-acidic and tight Funhouse... The delirium of a bunch of hominids trapped in the subway, and it derails with a horrible crash... let's sing, damn it! The dirt of these recordings, the deep and filthy bass, where you can even hear the amp valves breaking!
The scream of TV eye my god! This is true liberation, this is true lust! When I listen to it, I feel like dropping what I'm doing and running like a faun through the city touching the rears of both sexes, it doesn't matter, who cares! And while squeezing the juiciest and firmest, shouting "WOOOOHAAAAAA SHE'S GOT a TV EYE BABY".
Find me a more exact definition of Iggy, it doesn't exist! It can't exist because here we're talking about pure sex, being on stage my god! And you'll emerge from the morning romp shouting like cavemen "Woaaaahhaahahhaahah!", while she is still dazed from your fervor.
Listen to it.
Funhouse perfectly captures the peculiar characteristics of the early ’70s Stooges sound: dirty and raw sounds.
These 5 tracks alone would suffice to define it as a masterpiece.
No other record can make me instantly forget everything around me so quickly... A cathartic explosion of innate sonic power.
We are the fucking Stooges!!!! Let the delirium begin!!!! ROCK'N'ROLL!!!!! With a capital R, not like that of Mt*.
"Fun House is the product of a few guys who want to separate themselves from moralism and conformism and want to show who they really are."
"'Down on the Street' is the first example of a nihilistic rock; the very title 'On the Street' is the spokesperson for a group of bastards raised on the street with distorted guitars and anger inside."
You may starve, but at least the heart must be fed... we are still human after all.
These gentlemen are the Stooges: take or leave, hate or love, ignore or listen.