Stooges, The - album review
- Mark Robertson
- 27 February 2007
Come on! What did you expect? How could the first album in 35 years from the band who inspired everything from The Ramones to Mogwai and Guns ‘n Roses not be anything other than an anti-climax? A good album is a good album though, whether it is made by leathery fiftysomethings or hopped-up teen long hairs smeared in peanut butter. And even the most corny, indulgent bits here are still on a par with most of the belligerent swaggerers larging it around the R’n’R campfire today.
History dictates you can’t listen to a new Stooges record without listening out for their pedigree, and, yes, the wit, guile and brawn of the early years shines through often. They may be as dangerous as your nan these days but this is still great, mildly filthy fun. Lock your inner chin stroker in the basement for the night, put this on loud and wreck the front room like it’s 1969.