his rock influence is fat topsoil. The Sex Pistols and David Bowie, to name some, acknowledge his contributory negligence. As for Ig himself, aside from a space heater, “Just the sheer presence of electricity, in large doses, has always made me feel real comfortable and calm, especially the way a very large amplifier… will push air… that’s basically what amps do, they push air and they push me too.”
Listen, I don’t know rock music from cream of raccoon soup. Strong prose, however, I can hum along with. Iggy Pop (a/k/a Jim Osterberg, age 36) has strung together a sharp, ozonesplitting and instructive autobiographical riff here. From it, while being hamstrung by laughter, you might learn, for instance, that rock music is men in groups. A band has street-gang bonding: the names could come from West Side Story. They don’t assault with a switchblade, but with all that shoved air. And women are peripheral, “groupies”—belonging to the whole male tribe, not to any one man.
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