pt. 5
iGGY and the stooges Iguana Chronicles - an ongoing hellrant. pt. 5 - Fuck Everyone That Ever Dicked With ME!

A real time odyssey into iggy's world circa 1970ish.

The Iguana Chronicles.

part 5 - California Bleeding

nothing new.... and then... iggy talkin' like dean martin. and then.... the noise.... the drums.... the blare.... the guitars... the sounds of your soul tearing through the mainstream music that you always wish you had. Iggy wishes he had a band... and he did... iggy wishes he were a lounge singer... and he soon realizes he can't have everything.... but soon... he does... and he puts together a lounge band... that's what this story is about... three great albums... where the greatest rock and roll band in the world... becomes the suckiest lounge band in the world.

That's just the way iggy wants it you see... he wants to have a sucky ass lounge band to throw him into sharp relief.... so that all the people who went... wow... that's some pretty rockin' music... but the singer sucks... can see just how fucking awesome the stoogenator is....

i'm typing a little slower this review... i've hammered my way through the last few... this one... i'm just typing as fast as i can talk.... now... i can talk pretty fast... but that's not how i'm typing this one... i'm typing it... about the speed that iggy talks at the beginning of this record.... i said record... i know... it's a cd... but it's more... it's a recorded document of iggy's soul going to become what he always wanted to be. Perry Como.

Can you see iggy with his own tv show? cruising out with a cigareete and a bourbon and seven waiting for him back in his dressing room? i can... that's why all the appearances on miami vice.... jeopardy.... and every goddamn third rate movie the eighties produced...

the full moon shines in my window... and i feel myself changing.... i'm a werewolf... have always been... found out two years ago.... and there's nothin' i can do to stop it.... my jaw elongating... my snout craning outwards... my claws lengthening... and the hair on my ass... well... let's not get into that.

All i can tell you is it started a long time ago.... I found out that i was the only child of a crashed spaceman.... a big ole goddamn werewolf from planet xeuxes.... chased by intergalactic vampires who had destroyed his civilization... but not before he collapsed their galaxy... yes.... a giant collapsed galaxy of vampires.... or iggy... well.. i've been talking a lot about iggy lately... so... i think i'll tell you about the hunters.... they bred... and i was passed from womb to womb by psychic transporteleportationism.... they tried to chase me throughout the world... but here i am.... my father died... he was destroyed in the crash... but not before his massive love pheremones called a woman from the 15th century after us.... yes... time travel woman... and she came cuz she smelled his love... and then.. he impregnated her... and sent her embryo through the greatest wombs of history... from ten billion years in the past... to two hundred thousand million years in the future... and all their blood runs through my veins.... from womb to womb to womb.... and my blood runs through their veins... the werewolf strain of mankind... from me... courtesy of dad.... yup... big ugly hairy thing... and eventually i was dropped in the womb of a velvets fan (just to get even with iggy for not being true to his werewolf soul.. the werewolf soul of rock and roll... instead of the vampire soul of lounge.) and when i popped out... i was promptly seized by the vampire nurses and put into the arms of a loving sociopathic mother... who cares about me so much she saves me from the hells she puts me in.

my current hell? i'm single... 34... and stuck at my mom's house after kicking israel's ass silly for 4 years. want proof of that? search the web and the newsgroups for doc martian... it's there.

now... igster... he's crooning.... his werewolf soul is being called to my changed form... my silent eyes looking to hunt... but knowing the game i seek is not around.... lovely women in the coachella valley... some of the loveliest... but i seek a woman on the moors... a bogwitch... yes... i'm after siouxsie sioux... and all her legions of fans.... i love them... they make me twitch... just like i make israel twitch.... only not cuz i have my axe buried in their head.... but because it makes them laff to see me smile when i fart.

Ig's singing his heart out... higher then fuck.... the heroin is just scored... all you gotta do.. is say you're playing at the whisky and the balloons come out of thin air... and you can choose your grade... tonight... iggy chose the scaggy shit... cuz he likes the edge it gave him... even with some perfectly clean china white... he's got some cutdown indian bitch heroin that has like red shit in it.

The harmonica wails... i don't care who's playing it... never did... they either can play it.. or they can't.... Scott Thurston can.... and he is... he's the newest member of the band... and the guys have had him running out for sandwiches... pizza... and drugs all fucking day... and he's got the blues about it... that's ok.... he hocked a bloody loogie in the shit iggy shot into his arm... and he's smiling at iggy over the harp.... through the harp... his eyes glowing... cuz he's about to change... i have... my mom cages me in my room on the full moon nights... there've been too many times i come home drunk with some hot girl scared fucking shitless of my evil grin and crying to her... make him go away... he smells like sweat.... and i do... i can bathe all day and the sweat still doesn't go away... the pain that stinks through my pores.. the howling through endless nights... the wandering everywhere but the forest.... the desert... the oceanside.... the city... and i know she's around... the bogwitch... my heart and soul... my woman.... my love.... my angel... and she's reading this right now? is it you? come on over... i'm in indio... you know where it is.... it's where all the bands in the world come to pay homage to me.... cuz i kicked israel's ass....

ok... enough about me....

ig's singing open up and bleed.... and it's sounding like a million bucks... cheezy electric piano.... trainwreck on the keyboards.... john cage kinda crapola... only better... cuz ig is playing the toon he always wanted to play... he's already jumped forward to johanna in his head.. . he's already singing the greatest fucking lounge song that ever was.... and i still fucking love it... my rock and roll soul is goin'... bad lounge... bad.. bad... but his is still rock'nrollin.... and i can't stop... my fingers hurt... my soul bleeds for iggy... cuz i know what's coming next... the glass... and he cuts himself.... and he pretends it doesn't even happen... probably can't even feel it with all the morphine/heroin crapdoodle floating in his veins....

johanna.... said the magic word... the ultimate of sweet songs... the name of an ancient aunt of mine whose funeral i missed cuz i wanted to get loaded... even though she was the sweetest old lady in the world.... and iggy's singing... her name... but it touches my core within... and i remember all the family members i left behind in my quest for a rock n' roll lifestyle... i remember the pain i went through while trying to get back home only to have my family (mainly moms) screaming in my face.... and iggy starts in....

johanna... johanna.... i've been a fool but i'm comin' back to you.....

never can tell what it means... he's talkin' about his father... and what he learned from him... and the band plays on....

now... ig... or as i like to call him... the howling duhbeast.... something i know he's truly not.... people who are intelligent are very good at playing dumb.... keeps the kids in school from copying our homework.... iggy is confident in his soul.... so am i... confident to tell you that this is not about iggy... this whole rant is about my search for the bogwitch... the crazy lady who ruled my life forever... the woman who meant everything to me... but didn't want to see me.... cuz she thought i was like the guy that stalked her.... i wouldn't get up off my fat ass for her... much less stalk her.... but she didn't see that... and so... my wind and love continue to dance... dance in the cool night air.... kim... i still love you... it will never stop.... even if you act like a bitch to me....

now.... let me tell you all something.... my love for kim... is echoed in bowie's love for iggy.... he'll never be able to consumate it... he'll never be able to fulfill it... but it still burns within him... in spite of his other loves... in spite of his other mates... in spite of everything.... maybe someday i'll find myself with a woman... at home... and loving every second of peaceful country club living... but something in me had me cruising through the night in a third rate rural farm town... singing my heart out to kim... wishing like hell she were with me... in the daffodils... on the mountain.... climbing up the side of a hill so that when she or her friends went climbing in hemet after hiking every trail in joshua tree or palm springs... she'd not have oleander slapping at her... is that how i saw it.... nope... that's how i see it now....

and bowie? he smoothed the way for iggy by putting him into a kinder musical form... not the knifefighting angeldust ridden world of rock'n'roll circa 1973... but the sweet and simple lounge scene... the scene at which bowie excelled.... bowie on stage? bowie serenading people on drugs.... iggy in beer... nope... iggy shooting up to the bowie album... nodding off to starman.... saying he was ziggy iggy to friends... saying he was iggyziggy to lovers... and david bowie knowing it was all going on... psychically hooked to his groove cuz he loved him more then anything even though he knew he was basically just a rock'n'roll kid who was doin' the lawns... in blue jeans... and waiting to get home and get stoned.... bowie made iggy his daddy.... the daddy he always wanted... the loungesuited martini swilling artless but humane when in his cups daddy that iggy was to bowie....

now.... about kim... cuz her husband (yes... she's probably married with 2.4 kids and a kia) is all stressing at a psychic level.... i can't ever forget her... but i had to let her go a decade ago... i knew... she knew.... she couldn't contain my emotions... she couldn't contain my pain... my talking about the death of my brother... her thinking about going hiking.... at least she wasn't thinking about her nails... but i still loved her... and still do.... in spite of it all.

and now? i'm listening to 'head on' and the rhythm is nothing compared to the hard grinding wall that opened it... they aren't worried about sounding like anything anymore... just noise and then feedback... and then blues... and then love... and then the music again... and then... iggy in a goddamn set of panties falling down flopping on stage.... i care igster... you were a modern bluejeaned digger to me... the guy who managed to come back from hell to a sober mind.. then come to terms with his personal hells.... me? i don't sweat nothin... a little bit of this... a little bit of that... and my soul is clean.

I've finally vomited up the last of my love for a woman who nearly broke me until i realized she was in the pay of the enemy. Yup. A whore. A woman sent to make me crazy about her but then give up nothin' more then an innocent sweet kiss that meant nothin' to me cuz i wanted to mack on her for like a year.

I'm done... my heart has sold out the only woman i ever really loved... my cia buddies will bash her a bit... but mainly... they'll let her alone... cuz she missed out on the coolest guy that ever lived. namely? me.

end rant 5. tomorrow? rant 6 michigan palace.