Dirty Little Virus – Iggy Pop

It’s a slow creeping slink. A tip toe towards a tune, then the hooks unfurl in the voice of Iggle Piggle.

“Covid 19 Is on my scene, the boys and the girls can’t stop their world, Grandfather’s dead, got Trump instead”

The pope of punk has popped into your Christmas stocking once more. With a timely ‘Call it what it is’ blooze dirge. There are trumpet breaks, hynogrooves and a chorus you know before the second time around. It’s Iggy’s job to keep on impressing and making impressions.

“Dirty little virus, sleeping inside us, She’s only 19 but she can kill ya”

Including the Christmas Day White Christmas Post James Newell Osterberg Jr has been on SteveForTheDeaf enough times for the posts to reach double figures, but we have still yet to significantly scratch the surface of the mans output. No Zombie Birdhouse, no Pumpin’ For Jill, no Repo Man no James Bond, no Stooges, no Skull Ring or Apres have been discussed on the old SFTD… Yet. All to be rectified over time.

The guitar slinks around like it’s infecting everything it touches and the drums plod on like they understand their task yet they’ve been at it for months now and weary. This is a lock down anthem in more ways than one.

When he’s singing the Covid-19 break toward the end it’s as if he’s given 2020 an end credits tune to play out on. Released in Christmas week to remind us you can address the issue directly without making a *Kunts* of yourself or parping on about sausage rolls for the post pub irony crowd (that phrase has more pathos than it would have done a year ago). The year needed an original Iggy song. As fun as Family Affair was. These are serious times and serious times need the melting gaze of Iggy Pop.

This is your Christmas Bonus. We’ve done the carols, the pressies and the good cheer. Now watch your sleep patterns reverse as you fall asleep in front of the TV developing existential dread about your health, returning to work, if you’re drinking too much liqueur and if as soon at the Christmas bubble bursts the bad old 21st Century is about to unload a third decade right in your frikkin’ face. Don’t worry. That’s just too much Stinking Bishop cheese and eggnog thinking for you. If we’ve still got Iggy Pop we’ve still got a chance.

“Guy gets a fever thinks he’s Ceasar, Oh what a crime of losing my mind”

Iggy explains the song himself below. A direct lyric that he compares to journalism. I’m not going to paraphrase the man any further. He says what he says in the Who, What, When Where link below.

I will say this. In an era where people of Igg’s age are susceptible to this nasty germ at pretty immediate and entirely lethal levels of vulnerability it adds a personality to the lyrics. Iggy is throwing down his hand in the face of the reaper. He’s not calling out for a fight but he is saying ‘I see you, you little fucker, I see what you’re up to. It’s very uncool of you. You’re not punk Covid-19. You’re dirt.’

If this were the last recording Iggy made it’d be a fitting end to his cannon. I said the same about Post Pop Depression, and then I said it again about Free. At this stage of his career, like Dylan, McCartney and AC/DC, Iggy owes us nothing. That said, it’s wonderful to hear from him. That he still has, menace, a point to make and a sinister groove, well that makes it all the more like a present.

Merry Christmas Mr Pop.

4 thoughts on “Dirty Little Virus – Iggy Pop

  1. What a gem. The old man still got it. I love your write up. “The guitar slinks around like it’s infecting everything it touches and the drums plod on like they understand their task yet they’ve been at it for months now and weary. This is a lock down anthem in more ways than one.”

    Like

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