Iggy Pop
Post Pop Depression
Perhaps the greatest crime in music history is forgetting that, while David Bowie and Brian Eno heavily edited and influenced Iggy Pop's 1977 album, The Idiot, Iggy Pop was still there. The story is usually told as two geniuses using a punk rocker as their personal tool. The truth is much more fun: that that guy who rips his shirt off at a moment's notice, is still "heroin-thin" even after being clean for over 20 years, and does that weird hipshake dance like Elvis with seasonal-affective disorder, is secretly a musical wunderkind, constantly bouncing off collaborators while simultaneously influencing them.
Such is the amazing, wonderful, and totally fun Post Pop Depression. No album has given me such anxiety in waiting for it. At the time of its announcement, I was so excited--one of my favorite bands ever, Queens of the Stone Age (or more specifically it's founder, Josh Homme) would be collaborating with the Prince of Punk, Iggy Pop for, perhaps, his final album. Then...the ever-looming spectre...Metallica and Lou Reed. If this last Iggy album ended up like that shambling thing-that-should-not-be, I might just stop listening to music. Time to invest in some audiobooks. Goodbye iPod (yes, I still have one of those). Return the turntable. Put the CD's on eBay and Amazon. Cancel the Spotify subscription.
I am so very, very happy to announce, Post Pop Depression is a masterpiece. It is one of my favorite albums to listen to in several years, and I've done so nearly constantly since the NPR early stream was made available. Pop's vocal delivery--that warbling baritone--fits so perfectly with Homme's desert-garage-rock instrumentation, it's almost hard to describe. Basically, other than Funhouse and The Idiot, this is the album Iggy Pop was meant to make.
Every part is executed to perfection: obviously Pop's off-the-cuff singing, Homme's guitar and backing vocals (and production), Dean Fertita's...all the insturments, and Arctic Monkeys' Matt Helders' drums all fit so well that the result is a seamless musical tapestry. The supporting roles in this album are almost as exciting as the main feature; with a very QOTSA/Arctic Monkeys sound, songs like "Gardenia" and "Sunday" are given a brilliance to what would otherwise be dull, slow burns in anyone else's hands.
But don't think Homme's presence means it's all party all the time. Pop is still punk after all, and he expresses his rage quite often. Album closer "Paraguay" ends in an amazing rant that would make Lewis Black blush, and it's backed by an insane guitar riff and calmly delivered chorus that slowly fades until you realize you're yelling too.
As a final farewell to the music business, Post Pop Depression is undeniably sexy, fun, and solid gold. What it's not, however, is a lament. This is a primal scream, the last one that defies the laws of the universe and dares them to try and stop it. Despite having never heard an Iggy Pop album like this, this is definitely a very Iggy Pop album, like it's the one he's been waiting to make his whole life. Post Pop Depression shows that with the right framework, he can take what easily could have been a dirge and turn it into a celebration of what it means to be alive.
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