From The Archive: Iggy Pop and Me

From 1977

Unpredictable Iggy

Tim Lott, Record Mirror, 15 October 1977

HERE IS part of a "conversation" with Iggy Pop, aka Ig, aka James Newell Osterburg. It concerns asthma and violence.

"Nothing ever made me feel claustrophobic because I was born in an incubator, stayed there for two weeks, got taken out of that and put in an oxygen tent about the size of a taxi cab. Then they took me to a trailer about the size of a truck for the next four years. I was an asthmatic, I couldn't breathe.

"I outgrew it. I got rid of it the day I kicked hell out of a bully — y'know., till then I had it real bad. I used to get bullied a lot. I get beat up all the time. I think that was the only fight I ever won..."

Don't you ever beat up other people?

"Never. I'd never do anything like that. I'd never pick on somebody under 2501bs. Those over 2501bs, I don't pick on 'em but if they give me any hassles I sometimes just jump on 'em... I'll do unnecessary things. It's stupid but everyone indulges in various forms, right?

"Violence is an indulgence. It's the modern counterpart of Augustus Tiberius and strawberries sent down from the Swiss Alps. By runners. Iced."

But violence was once very much part of your act — pulling girls' hair, vomiting, jamming pencils into flesh, pouring hot wax over yourself, diving onto shards of broken glass, singing through bleeding lips...

"No, that's just what's been printed. That's not true. I cut myself on the chest, once. There's a certain misery inherent in the human condition which is recognised in Western literature... Shakespeare for example... and the vast majority of men, especially by the time they're 30, let their chest go to pieces slowwwly but surrrrely, slowly but surely, It gets gooshier and goockier and goshier and goochier. I took care of that in 3 seconds.

"So whose act of violence? Who's done themselves the greatest harm? Hmmm? Think about it?"

I'm still thinking about It, Ig. I'm still thinking that you're maladjusted, or at least, still confused.

Look back at the "conversation". It happened, as did what's to follow, in the back of a coach on the way to Flnsbury Park Rainbow for a sound-check.

It was an interview Iggy had already delayed once and cancelled although he'd specifically requested to do it. The day before he'd opened the door of his hotel room for another interview stark naked.

Iggy is unpredictable. That much is gospel. Take a look at the last few lines of that 'conversation' from "There's a certain misery..." Do you follow the thread? Goody. I sure as hell don't.

It's not so much that he's incoherent, he just sways about a lot, disappearing at tangents inside his bespectacled (really!) 30-year-old head, pursuing tacks that can be obscure to everyone but him.

I inevitably ask about Bowie. Watch him sway. Watch him stop.

"He was the man who had the generosity and largesse to let me apprentice... uh, let me watch and take notes at 87 of his gigs."

How is he important to you?

"I can't answer something like that, I can't talk about it. He and I see each other coming from a block away and we've both got a smile on our face. By the time we get about two inches away we'll... but no... but no... but no... you know... weel, darling, you know..."

And he disappears to the back of the coach for 15 minutes. Follow that last sentence? Well, goody again. I must be really stupid.

"Well, what have we got at the door, a dead vicar? Would you like a bit of rat tart?"

Iggy has emerged from the bowels of the tour coach. He's wearing a T-shirt with his picture and name on it.

Are you an egotist, or what?

"Ha... I got a semi-clean T-shirt. Whatcha don't like the pitcher? I put it on because I like the picture."

I was just wondering... are you an egotist?

"Actually I was kinda walkin' down the hall the other day and I was wishln' it didn't have my name on it. I like a T-shirt with a picture a leetle bit to the right instead of the middle.