Anthony Bourdain om Iggy Pop på sin blog:
Only speed freaks (not a high-prestige set in 1969) and guys who
worked on their cars too much liked the STOOGES. “Problem” kids.
Tormented loners. Guys about whom there were terrible rumors. (“He went
mental and beat up his Mom.” “He shot somebody with a zip gun.”) That’s
the kind of guy who appreciated songs like the sado-masochistic “I Wanna
Be Your Dog,” the bleak “No Fun” (which pretty much summed up high
school for me), and the psychotic “TV Eye.”
Those were the days
when you held a new album in your hands and gaped at it for hours. You
read the liner notes again and again, peered hard and then harder at the
cover art, the photos on the back, trying to discern more — to glean
some kind of information about the strange and terrible people who made
these sounds that spoke, somehow, to the darkest regions of your teenage
heart.
And what to make of the STOOGES’ lead singer, “Iggy,”
whose apparent willingness to self-destruct in front of your eyes was
both exciting and genuinely frightening? To side with the STOOGES at
that time, to announce to your high school friends that you liked — no,
LOVED — THE STOOGES pretty much put one publicly on the road to The
Velvet Underground, The New York Dolls, early New York punk rock … and
heroin.
Of
all the people I’ve met, I’ve never been more intimidated, more
anxious, more star-struck than when I met Iggy Pop. It was not in the
sort of place you’d expect to meet a rock and roll icon: a beach in the
Caribbean, oddly enough. I was attending a food and wine festival with
my family and looked out my window to see Iggy laying out on a blanket,
surrounded by nothing more toxic than mineral waters and fresh fruit.
For the next three days, I’d see him in the same place, soaking up the
rays and apparently rehabbing from a stage diving injury.
Though
my family’s blanket was but a few yards away, and my then-5 year-old
daughter would splash around in the water right next to him, it took me
three days to summon the nerve to say hello.
So, it was a dream
come true to actually hang out with my hero and (for better or worse)
early role model for the filming of this Sunday’s Miami episode of PARTS
UNKNOWN.
Now, some grumpy **** is going to point out, “Wait a minute, Iggy’s not from Miami! He wasn’t born here! What the ****?”
True
enough, but who in Miami WAS born in Miami? Believe me, we explore that
exact issue in this episode, with people who proudly WERE born here.
But
Iggy, like so many Miamians, came here to live after having lived a
previous life — or in Iggy’s case, many previous lives. Miami has always
been both refuge — and reward — for people from somewhere else, lured
by a long standing dream, the promise of some kind of peace of mind on a
beach.
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