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The Stooges ( 1969 )8 1969 / I Wanna Be Your Dog / We Will Fall / No Fun / Real Cool Time / Ann / Not Right / Little Doll This must be one of 1969’s dirtiest releases. Maybe not the heaviest album from the era (Blue Cheer’s Vincebus Eruptum (1968) or Led Zeppelin’s debut?), but you can’t deny that large parts of this album are downright weird to have been released in the year that also brought us Let It Bleed, Tommy, Arthur and The Soft Parade. Yeah, I mentioned those albums on purpose, because I’m convinced that they were made by bands who must have influenced The Stooges (in)directly. These bands, and the Velvet Underground of course. They took The Who’s primal power, added The Kinks’ early simplicity, The Stones’ sleaze, The Doors’ theatrics, and finally a VU-obsession with distortion and drones.The music on this album sounds exactly how those four guys on the front and back cover look: ugly, primitive, and scruffy. Not yet dangerous, but definitely more perverted than The Rolling Stones would ever look or sound. Still, John Cale (who also produced other classic proto-punk debuts The Modern Lovers (released in 1976, recorded in 1973) and Patti Smith’s Horses (1975)) could have done a better job, since some of the songs have a flat production that makes different song parts almost undistinguishable. Well, they weren’t exactly great songwriters at the time, of course, but that doesn’t imply that each song should be treated as monotonous drone, right? |
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| “1969” starts off really good, though, with a dirty wah-wah sound, and a typically repeated drum pattern (Scott Asheton never proved he could provide more than some basic drumming, but that’s exactly what he did like no one else before or after him) over which Ron Asheton’s grinding distortion and fuzzed guitars and Iggy Pop’s snarly vocals sound really cool. A track that today still rocks like hell. Something which is also true of “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” a primitive slab of raw and menacing rock ‘n roll that makes good use of sleigh bells and a fuzzy guitar solo. I’d better delete that last part, since all the songs here have savagely unsubtle guitar solos. Except for “We Will Fall,” a lengthy ‘song’ that almost succeeds in ruining the album’s appeal. Droning along for more than ten minutes, and obviously VU-inspired (Cale provides some viola in the background), it has some awkward hypnotic chanting (is that English?), while Iggy utters some silly lines. It is obvious on this track, though, that Iggy was at this stage very much influenced by Jim Morrison’s equally bombastic stage presence; just listen how he seems to imitate the Lizard King’s sleazy pronunciation (an insightful book to check out more of the Morrison-Pop link is definitely Danny Sugerman’s tale of ‘glamour and excess’, Wonderland Avenue). The second side of the album contains some more good stuff: “No Fun” is another raw and lengthy track, with Iggy really freaking out this time (“Well, come oooooohhhhnn!!”), and Asheton churning out another fucked up solo. An example of a song almost ruined by the production is “Real Cool Time,” a short and monotonous but sinister-sounding track that suggests our gentleman caller isn’t out for a dance at the local ball (and 22 years later, The Feelies would put a definitive version of this song on their masterpiece Time For A Witness). “Ann” has more primitive drums and more Morrison-inflected crooning along with another distorted solo, but is the second side’s weakest track. The following track, “Not Right,” isn’t especially impressive, either, but this time it has a guitar solo that sounds really cool and not over-fuzzed; this sound would reappear on albums by The Butthole Surfers (really, Paul Leary must have been directly influenced by stuff like this). “Little Doll,” the album closer, is an unashamed rehashing of “1969” (with a few more cymbal crashes added), but that’s a good thing I guess. The Stooges is a bit of a one-dimensional album that doesn’t have much to offer in the songwriting and accomplished musicianship-department. On the other hand, that’s exactly a part of their appeal, as the band proved that basic instrumentation, an oversized attitude, and a willingness to try new things (they weren’t just copycats, but innovators) could get them a record contract and a fine debut album. Taking rock ‘n roll further back to its liberating core as a means of expression, The Stooges would further ‘refine’ on their attack on their second album, which would prove to be the band’s masterpiece. |
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Fun House ( 1970 )10 Down On the Street / Loose / T.V. Eye / Dirt / 1970 / Fun House / L.A. Blues Fun House, released merely a year later than their debut, is an insult to good taste and conventional expectations about rock music. The Stooges had already made it clear that these kids weren’t playing the game by the proper rules and preferred their own chaotic pamphlet instead. Nothing could have prepared the public for this however, since we’re dealing with one of the heaviest, most uncompromising and intense albums I’ve ever heard (imagine how it must have sounded in 1970). It sounds raw, primal, and at times even demented and downright chaotic. The drums are still as rudimentary as before (in each song), so it’s no use giving a detailed description. Similarly, the bass playing is limited to some simple figures employing just a few notes. Ron Asheton’s guitar sounds even dirtier than on the debut, although it’s less fuzzy now. The greatest improvement over the debut is Iggy Pop’s singing, though. His performances sound confidently possessed as he moans, snarls, screams, and grunts his way through this glorious 36-minutes mess of a record, the ultimate shot of adrenaline. |
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The pounding “Down On the Street” (probably the album’s most conventional song) immediately shows it’s getting serious now, with a vicious guitar attack (with two layers over each other during the chorus) that prepares for what is to come. It’s a song reduced to the very basics, taking rock almost back to avant-garde, and sounds wild and reckless. Even more violent (and fast) is the highly energetic “Loose,” and a notable thing about this song is the experimentation going on with the (dis)advantage of stereo sound, as a fuzzy guitar comes through the first channel, and a ‘cleaner’, wailing guitar through the other. The lyrics are really rudimentary (“I’ll stick it deep inside, cause I’m loose, I feel fine to be dancin’”) and Pop sounds positively out of his mind. The scream (“Looooooooooord”) that sets off “T.V. Eye” is followed by crunching guitar and then loud pumping bass (filling up an entire channel, sending the guitar back to the other one) and drums. Again, the lyrics (“See that cat, yeah I do mean you, she got a T.V. eye on me” etc) don’t seem very meaningful, but they weren’t interesting in the first place, Pop applying all his energy to his demented howling (later even ‘coughing’ and mumbling in a deep baritone which he would use more and more, also on his solo efforts). A highlight section in the song is the repeated “brother,” after which the music stops for a second and is reprised by the guitar and drums that finish the song. “Dirt” begins with a 6-note bass line and meanders slowly along while the interplay between Pop and Asheton’s guitar takes center stage, the guitar accentuating the lyrics “I’ve been HURT” with short bursts of wailing noise. A blistering start to what used to be side B is given by the classic “1970” (a reference to “1969,” of course, and using the same bass line), as fast and belligerent as “Loose.” “I feel allright” is what Pop yells over and over again, but the way in which he pronounces it, in combination with the music, suggests he’s in a quite different mood/state (he may as well plant a knife in your back). The song also introduces sax player Steve Mackay, whose playing gets increasingly wild and chaotic, matching Pop’s outrageous yelps. “Fun House,” the album’s longest song (7:46), boasts another classic bass intro, and an exciting guitar/sax-battle, with both maniacally performing and trying to top each other, after which Pop starts ‘singing’ or bringing a psychotic imitation of James Brown, depending on your point of view. Both guitar and sax move to the background, but return to propel the song to a mad intensity only matched by the free jazz-interplay of Peter Brötzmann and Sonny Sharrock in Last Exit. The album closes with “L.A. Blues,” a culmination of all previous things, a chaotic wankfest of the highest order, with steadily rolling drums, screeching saxophone and wailing guitar. Rawer than anything before, it is a statement that can’t be ignored and a final chapter to an album that pushed rock ‘ roll to its outer limits. Some might argue that The Velvet Underground were first with their deconstructionist first two albums, but whereas the former were consciously turning excessive feedback into a heady art form, these thugs – spearheaded by rock’s foremost raving lunatic - were possessed by a hereto unmatched primal energy and wildness. The result is an astonishing blast of rock ‘n roll no self-proclaimed music fan should be without. |
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