Deeply flawed, but fundamentally decent, I approach life with an irreverent attitude toward certain modern social conventions, while harboring a profound nostalgia for bygone traditions of honor and decency. We each have our own code, and I succeed and fail by mine.
Iggy Pop, (a.k.a Iguana) as storied as his odd rock career is, may be one of the strangest and creepiest looking dude's out there. I guess years of heroine, hard drugs, dead hookers and groupies, along with an improbable and illicit lifetime of depression and decadence take a toll. There is something about how the skin loosely collects around some of his muscles, the popping veins, and the way his eyes seem to convey dark tales of a life of twisted debauchery involving things the werewolf is too tame to mention on this blog. Plus, his band looks like a collection of axe murders from a Rob Zombie film, although they certainly rock it to the top. Yet, conversely the way his voice booms tied into his unapologetic bouncing a spastic gyrations, show he is a gifted musician and has earned his place as a great rocker. Not to mention, that chick's life probably was at it's epoch during the three minutes she shares the stage with Iggy.
Anyhow, this is one of the great modern love rock ballads, at least in the werewolf's humble opinion. The optimism that spring brings with it, somehow makes it the season for song's that celebrate love, realized, lost or uncertain. The studio version of this song features Kate Pierson, from the B-52's, which actually make it distinctive and worthy in its own right. Enjoy!