I saw Iggy Pop at the Orpheum in Boston after I moved there from Los Angeles in 1988. I moved on a whim, was fascinated with its history and the 180-degree change in scenery from LA, but was feeling alone and a bit adrift a few months in. The 1980s opened with me hitting the clubs in Hollywood and seeing so many punk and new wave bands with a crazy detour into Grateful Dead shows. By 1988, I was embarking on a different road of adventure and discovery but felt I needed a hit of energy from the “old days”. Well, Iggy Pop did it for me. I made my way to the front of the stage, leaned onto the barrier, propped my head on my hands, and simply stared up at him, absorbing his energy for a good portion of the show. I had also just read an interview where he discussed his substance abuse and that he had moved on to a new way of life, just like me (minus the history of drug abuse which I luckily never battled since my personal demons lie elsewhere). He was intense, wild, and beautiful as he leapt about the stage. At one point, he swung his hair in my direction, spraying me with sweat. He noticed it too, making eye contact for a moment, but far from grossing me out, it jolted me alive and I smiled back with renewed confidence that even in New England, I too could “lust for life”.

I saw Iggy Pop at the Orpheum in Boston after I moved there from Los Angeles in 1988. I moved on a whim, was fascinated with its history and the 180-degree change in scenery from LA, but was feeling alone and a bit adrift a few months in. The 1980s opened with me hitting the clubs in Hollywood and seeing so many punk and new wave bands with a crazy detour into Grateful Dead shows. By 1988, I was embarking on a different road of adventure and discovery but felt I needed a hit of energy from the “old days”. Well, Iggy Pop did it for me. I made my way to the front of the stage, leaned onto the barrier, propped my head on my hands, and simply stared up at him, absorbing his energy for a good portion of the show. I had also just read an interview where he discussed his substance abuse and that he had moved on to a new way of life, just like me (minus the history of drug abuse which I luckily never battled since my personal demons lie elsewhere). He was intense, wild, and beautiful as he leapt about the stage. At one point, he swung his hair in my direction, spraying me with sweat. He noticed it too, making eye contact for a moment, but far from grossing me out, it jolted me alive and I smiled back with renewed confidence that even in New England, I too could “lust for life”.

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