Ready to Die
arrives with none of the heady expectations of
The Weirdness
, the 2007 comeback that found
Iggy Pop
and
the Asheton Brothers
, aided by the sturdy
Mike Watt
, attempting to re-create some of the madness of
Funhouse
. For a variety of reasons it didn't work, but it wasn't so much an embarrassment as it was, well, weirdness, from a band weighed down more by its own ongoing internal tensions than its legacy. A little over a year after its release,
Ron Asheton
died and the group did what they did last time they were hanging by a thread: they brought in guitarist
James Williamson
. Back in 1973, he was the fuel that propelled
Raw Power
, an album that found
Ron
sitting in uneasily on bass, and he and
Iggy
recorded a bit after
the Stooges
final '70s implosion, but after 1980 he retired from music, choosing to pursue electrical engineering. So, in a sense,
Williamson
was further removed from rock & roll than
, who always plugged away in a variety of Ann Arbor- and Detroit-based rock bands, which makes the success of this second-phased
Stooges
reunion all the more remarkable. Because
feels like a
album in all the right ways, throwing out the halting, lurching hard murk of
in favor of successive blasts of sleaze, intermittently interrupted by the occasional moment of reflection. Ballads were verboten in the olden days -- whenever
slowed the tempo, they got mired in a dirge -- so this pair of quiet ones suggest an older band, one filled with musicians facing their seventies (perhaps that's the origin of the title?), but the rest of
showcases grizzled, gnarly vets who not only know how to deliver the goods but take pleasure in doing so. That sense of joy is a new wrinkle for
: at their purest, their fun was nihilistic, celebrating the joy in destruction. Here, there's a sense of joy in still being alive and still being able to make noise. Much of that comes from
-- who not only writes and plays guitar but produces the album, giving it a clean, efficient attack -- as the guitarist seemingly relishes the opportunity to get back into the game. If he takes things seriously,
most decidedly does not, happily succumbing to silliness -- he's on his knees for those Double Ds, bringing to mind the
who's always anxious to encore with "Louie Louie" -- and that reckless vulgarity is preferable to the strained pretension of
, particularly when it's supported by the righteous noise of the reconstituted
. Liberated from the weight of their history, they're just ready to rock while they still can, and that's why
is, against all odds, a terrific
album. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine