Photo: Adam Slinger
There is an ominous bank of cloud covering most of Leeds, the police have closed off the top of Briggate due to an accident and I am stuck in a number 36 bus in the middle of the resulting traffic. A pessimist would say this does not bode well; an optimist, would say things can only get better. So apologies to The Dirty and The Horrors (and my heart goes out to the Horrors fan who got made up only to arrive at the gig just as they finished), but suffice to say a) it wasn’t my 
fault and b) things got better.
Arriving at the house, we’re ‘greeted’ by the sound of Sons and Daughters murdering Adamski’s ‘Killer.’ It is a long walk to the stage and, by the time we get to see them, they are starting their last song, hastily dedicated to Iggy Pop instead of the usual Johnny Cash. Suck ups. Nevertheless, the two-boy-two-girl group put on a feisty performance, full of impish indie sexiness, further bolstered by the inclusion of the riff from ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog.’ Fun, but too brief a taste to tell.
More definite and definable are The Young Knives, who, like The Sunshine Underground, were rocking up Branham Park only last week. Looking like they’ve come straight from the office and greeting the crowd with “Thanks… this house,” they lay down a jagged guitar and bass sound that is in danger of stopping my heart. Throwing out licks that the Futureheads should have done on their last album and bellowing “what’s the point?” repeatedly through their first song, these guys have an alluring post-punk/mod nihilism that doesn’t lapse into laddishness and a stage presence that is refreshingly anti-celeb and disarmingly 
self-deprecating. ‘The Decision’ is quality pop, ‘She’s Attracted To’ is ‘Parklife’ gone shocking and ‘Hot Summer’ is a manic harmonic conjuration that actually dispels the clouds, but not the crowds. “This is dedicated to all humans everywhere,” says Henry Dartnell introducing the mammoth snowball of a track, ‘Terra Firma.’ Huge dedication; huge sound; huge new fan.
It’s the second time this Gigwise hack has seen The Sunshine Underground in as many weeks, and I am not relishing it; at Leeds Festival, they sounded like a tedious, poor man’s Killers. But tonight, with the wind tossing the bass-heavy sound around the curiously intimate locale/venue, the edge has been taken off Craig Wellington’s arrogance and, rather than alienating and subjugating, he’s a lot more appealing and entertaining. Daley Smith, the bassist, has also been gagged. Though most songs still sound ‘Planet Earth,’ (apart from the one that sounds like ‘Chegger’s Plays Pop’), a post-punk PiL attitude begins to leak through, and ‘Your Friends’ is positively funky. Though they could do with a bit more Gibson in the mix, this is the best I’ve seen them. Perhaps there’s something in the air here.
Idlewild have decided to adopt a KLF-style uniform for tonight in the shape of white hoodies – apart, that is, from lead singer Roddy Woomble, who sports tight jeans and a leather jacket. Jangling their way through the first song, the Caledonian foursome amble comfortably but vivaciously about the stage, measuring and gauging the space like the veterans they are. Though they don’t have the punch of the two previous bands, their indie-rock tunes are varied, but not so much that a newcomer would be put off, even when they throw in a bit of Cult-esque rawk and throw some macho guitar shapes. It’s a slow burning performance, and a good opportunity to catch your breath for the main event. More Idlemild, but they’re sort of band it’s hard to take a polarised view of.
Before I plunge into the audio assault that is The Stooges performance, I’d just like to touch on why Iggy Pop is playing for The Children’s Society. In a seed case, it’s because that earlier this year, Iggy and The Children’s Society put together a garden for the Chelsea Flower Show called ‘Lust For Life.’ The two parties got on so well that they wanted to work together again. One thing led to another and the next thing you know, Iggy’s agreed to an outdoor concert on behalf of The Children’s society. Fair play. And now, back to the rock.
Looking like a bunch (collective noun: a tinnitus) of roadies, Ron Asheton, Scott Ashton and Mike Watt take to the stage and strap on their implements of destruction. Hard to think that these three guys have had more influence on punk, metal and rock than the dark lord himself, but then again, Lucifer never had a conduit like Iggy. As the band strike up ‘Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell,’ an implausibly animated leather sack of bones and muscle leaps onto the stage. Part carved idol, part musical meat puppet in tight jeans (no top), he lurches, bounces, thrusts and swings around the stage, only pausing to pose iconically at the stage edge and donk the lenses of some less than considerate photographers with his microphone. Then he’s climbing the bass amp and getting intimate with the ‘head’ – such is the chaotic nature of his performance. But it’s all a form of animism; without the functional power station presences Watt and the Asheton’s, this wouldn’t be happening.
“We are the fucking Stooges!” screams Iggy into the microphone before barrelling into ‘1969,’ still as impertinent now as it was then, and tonight it is all about the Stooges; no ‘Lust For Life,’ no ‘Passenger,’ no solo career show-boating, just pure raw power. ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog,’ sees the audience caroming around the moshpit like the Pamplona bulls on PCP and when Iggy invites the audience to come up on stage for ‘No Fun,’ about two hundred people take him up on the offer. It’s a breathtaking site, looking like the finale of a West End musical, with Uncle Iggy offering the denouement sat at the edge of the stage; teenage rebellion is alive, well and living well into it’s forties. But with a word, the crowd disperses without complaint and the set re-commences. I suppose after a stage invasion of such magnitude, there’s little that can top it (apart from Little Iggy making a cameo appearance; he doesn’t) but new stuff like ‘My Idea Of Fun,’ sounds just as raw and uncontrollable as the old. In short, they’ve still got it. My only criticism of the night is that they play ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’ twice and omit ‘Search and Destroy.’ Nevertheless, this has been a breathtaking performance and a victorious event. How The Children’s Society are going to top it next year, I couldn’t hazard a guess. But I’m looking forward to it…
