In the 35 years since Fun House, follow-up to The Stooges, was
first released, The Stooges' reputation and influence have grown considerably,
to the point where, in some circles, their monumental stature is a moot point.
However, Iggy and cohorts remain very much a cult item when put in the context
of the wider music
world — there have been times, prior to the advent of
the compact disc, when these albums were hard to come
by, rarefied artifacts containing music that, though
often cited as influential, was in fact seldom heard.
Well, here they come again, this time in much-improved
remastered editions, each with a whole extra disc of
bonus tracks. Importantly, this twin-disc format
maintains the integrity of the originals, allowing
them their own self-contained space, with no bonus
tracks appended to spoil the flow or lessen the
impact.
First up, the 1969 eponymous debut. Here
you'll find a traceable lineage, with echoes of
Brit-Invasion R&B and Nuggets-era fuzzball dynamism.
But, crucially, The Stooges push at these limits with
a crude but effective reduction of rock to its bare
essentials: pounding Bo Diddley rhythms, buzzing
guitar squall and nihilistic lyrics.
John Cale's
production is basic but clear, accentuating the
sneering confidence in Iggy's voice and the vicious
edge to Ron Asheton's guitar-playing. It is, though, a
little uneven-sounding: the momentum is almost fatally
interrupted two tracks in, after a storming "1969" and
"I Wanna Be Your Dog," with the 10-minute raga-drone
of "We Will Fall" — tribal psychedelia that kind of
fits the context but drags the momentum down to a
sluggish pace. Fortunately the band recovers
brilliantly with "No Fun" and "Real Cool Time," then
coasts along through "Ann" and "Not Right" before
finishing off with the savage, drilling groove of
"Little Doll."
The second disc is a mixed bag. There
are John Cale's original mixes of some tracks that
were rejected at the time, and you can see why; the
different musical elements sound uncomfortably
isolated, and the percussion and voice are given too
much prominence. "No Fun" is all vocals and
handclaps, like some kind of flamenco version. On the
plus side, "Ann" appears in its original, unedited
form, stretching into a lengthy "Dance of Romance"
coda that gives Ron Asheton ample space to cut loose
on guitar.
The Stooges followed their debut a year later with Fun
House, and I honestly can't stress how powerful this is
— it's a flawless execution of ferocious energy that
still sounds timeless today. With perhaps the greatest
opening three-track salvo EVER, it kicks off with
"Down on the Street," "Loose" and "TV Eye." Compared
to their debut, the band sounds utterly uncompromising,
merging into an unstoppable, elemental force.
Ex-Kingsmen keyboardist Don Galucci seems to have
taken an approach opposite to John Cale's, so that
instead of the first album's tension between
containment and expression, there's a sense of
awe-inspiring force being unleashed, with The Stooges
displaying a fierce, feral hunger that pushes things
beyond any normal limitations save those of the
album's actual running time.
"Dirt" takes things down
a notch, with its ugly balladeering and Ron Asheton's
brutal wah-wah taking a starring role, and then things
accelerate again with the frenzied "1970" and the
freeform angular funk of "Fun House." Both tracks
feature saxophonist Steve Mackay, who broadens the
band's sound without diluting it. Finally the album
ends explosively with the apocalyptic "LA Blues," a
prolonged, atonal howl that sees The Stooges staring
adoringly into the abyss.
The accompanying disc of extras expertly fillets
Rhino's mammoth Complete Fun House Sessions box to
provide a digestible slice of a work-in-progress that
manages to be illuminating without overly demystifying
the finished album. Best are the two takes of "Fun
House," running to nine and 11 minutes
respectively, in which the band flirts with chaos
while staying anchored to the music's punishing
groove.
As Iggy himself puts it as he ushers in a gloriously
primitive guitar solo on "No Fun": "C'mon Ron, lemme
hear ya tell 'em how I feel." Listen to this pair of
albums and consider yourself told.
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