On the corner of Eisenhower and Packard, right here in Ann Arbor, there once stood a big, white, unsuspecting farmhouse where University of Michigan dropout James Osterberg from Ypsi and his friends the Asheton brothers settled to form a band in ’67. From that pristine, pastoral setting inexplicably came the crudely-inspired genius of the Stooges, the most direct and visceral forebears of punk.
Savagely reborn as Iggy Pop, Osterberg was a violently explosive frontman like no other, a master at baiting the audience. On this, their third and final, the Stooges can be heard ripping themselves apart, drowning in drugs and nihilism through the relentless title-track and blistering “Search and Destroy.” David Bowie, who preceded over the chaos, has condemned the haphazard mix, but 30 years later, the reckless charm of the album seems undeniable.