Monday, October 09, 2006
Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell
As if there weren't already enough reasons to love the geriatric, Skeletor-impersonating rock colossus Iggy Pop, his rider is surely all the evidence we require.
For non-geeks who haven't spent their lives having their eardrums blasted at the front of gigs while being repeatedly kicked in the head by Doc Marten-wearing crowdsurfers, riders are wish-lists of items that precious rock stars give gig promoters.
Any deviation from this list is met with histrionics that would embarrass Nigel Tufnel.
The Ig, obviously convulsed with his own comedy, hands over an eighteen page document filled with eccentric requests...
"For example, in describing how Iggy's dressing room should be made to "look less like a typical rock & roll dressing room," the rider suggests that promoters "just let someone loose with a little bit of artistic flair... Er, do you know any homosexuals?"
Explaining the need for two heavy duty fans... "So that I can wear a scarf and pretend to be in a Bon Jovi video."
Also, don't miss the backstage requirements of a Bob Hope impersonator and "a copy of USA Today that's got a story about morbidly obese people in it."
This is a rider par-excellence, and precisely the kind of thing I would try if I was a rock star. I'd demand to ride into the venue on a silver chariot pulled by four zebras, playing a drop-headed flying-V guitar that shoots phallus-shaped fireworks a hundred feet in the air.
I'd throw hysterical tantrums if my honey-glazed hams were undercooked and my chateau neuf de pape was at room temperature, and I don't want to think what would happen if my peanut-butter double cheeseburgers weren't flamegrilled exactly as I like them.
All of this is relatively tame compared with Iggy's suggestion for a reality TV show, which he helpfully includes in his list.
"It's called 'Dead Dog Island', where a group of contestants/dog lovers is asked what is their favourite breed of dog, then whatever they reply (for example 'Poodle' or 'Labrador') they are then presented with a dead dog of that particular breed, which they have to cook in a number of different ways, say about six or seven, and then eat it all up over the course of the next, oooh... two weeks or so."
Older, grizzled and looking ever more like a piece of week-old Kentucky Fried Chicken, but Iggy's still got the sense of humour.
I'm just pissed he's pre-empted my proposal for "Dead Celebrity Island".