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  1. Free is the eighteenth studio album by American rock singer Iggy Pop, released by Caroline International and Loma Vista Recordings on September 6, 2019. It features contributions from Noveller and Leron Thomas, and the title track was released along with the album announcement. A music video for the album's second single, 'James Bond', was released on August 14, 2019.
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It is amazing that considering Iggy Pop has now reached the ripe old age of 72 he manages to remain unpredictable in terms of both expectation and product. Around the time of his 2016 release Post Pop Depression there were huge questions over his future. He had just seen the significant passing of David Bowie, someone who he had worked with, been produced by and written songs for. This then led many to question if Post Pop Depression would be the end of the line for Iggy Pop and whether he would just stick to being a BBC 6 Music DJ.

Writer: Iggy Pop - Barry Andrews / Composers: Iggy Pop - Barry Andrews Access the complete album info (16 songs) ℗ 2011 EMI Music Catalogue Marketing, A Division Of EMI Music Germany GmbH & Co.

As the last track of that album, Paraguay fades out Iggy is heard screaming “cause I’m sick and it’s your fault and I’m gonna heal myself now” it felt that the end had perhaps come to his recorded career. Fast forward to 2019 and with what seems like comparatively little warning we arrive with his new release Free. Free is a complete contrast to what has come before. Long gone are the chugging guitars of Josh Homme from Queens Of The Stone Age and drums of Matt Helders of The Arctic Monkeys that rattle through the last album. They seem to have been replaced with music that has a genuine respect for space, however this is not completely consistent and as a result he ends up with an album that at times sounds slightly muddled.

The album opens with the title track which is a quiet, largely vocal free track. The only time we hear his voice is when he mutters the words “I wanna be free” at the beginning and end of the song. This is swiftly followed by Loves Missing which sounds like a more traditional Iggy song with a slow build, constant guitar riff and ending with almost a vocal crescendo. From here it jumps back to the ambience of the opening track with Sonali which has a very quiet rolling guitar riff and some subtle jazz drum fills that really support the song brilliantly. This jump from one style on songs such as James Bond and Dirty Sanchez (both classic Iggy) to newly formed jazz Iggy happens all the way through. When it works well the album is truly captivating.

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The music is largely hypnotic and the moments of sparse instrumentation allow deeper appreciation. It almost evokes a similar feeling to Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock, Iggy Pop’s voice shining through in a similar way to that of Mark Hollis. Here, he is singing with a different sort of emotion. It is slower, richer and more reflective. His voice sounding stronger than ever.

Another point of reference is Bowie’s Blackstar, an album that plays with the essence of a familiar voice over a different sound. Free is not as lyrically emotionally resonating as Blackstar but it evokes similar feelings. The reason that it doesn’t fully pack the same punch is that there is a sense that he cannot fully commit. It is a solid album, but just leaves you wondering slightly what could have been.

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Free

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Iggy Pop’s catalogue is a strange mess – a couple of very fine albums, plenty of rewards to dig and gather across the records that followed and some filler-fodder too. There hasn’t been the late-great comeback that many other heritage acts have offered. But there hasn’t needed to be. The myth of Iggy is profound in and of itself. And if he needed an extra kick, or thought fans did, he had The Stooges to reform for a lark. Though that’s barely the option these days.

So, to a few interesting – if uneven – collaborations. I didn’t much care for the Post Pop Depression record with Josh Hommebut everyone else seemed to love it. I then rather dug the EP with Underworldthat I barely saw mentioned elsewhere. So, um, what would I know right?

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Well, based on that acknowledgment I am really loving Free – the next, and last (?) album from Iggy. Who knows what Iggy wants to be ‘free’ from – he’s been shirt-free forever. And expectation-free for nearly as long. He’s able to just turn up and drift. To float through things. He’s arguably almost always been free.

And, look, this album is no classic. It’s a hodgepodge of recording sessions, featuring a handful of spoken-word pieces and some rockers that have a jazz-trumpet attached. I just like it because it’s here and there’s a spirit to its finest moments. Take Loves Missing for example. This is better than anything the Pixies have served up over the last decade and even if that’s a low-bar it still gives you an idea of the sonic territory. It is, to me, ten times better than anything off Post Pop Depression.

Sonali too, is very strong. But there are some lyrical clunkers. A song called James Bond exists purely for Ig to purr out lazy couplets around the refrain, “She wants to be your James Bond” – but it’s fun. And it sounds cool. But it doesn’t stand up to any sort of scrutiny.

Far worse is Dirty Sanchez – at least the song’s title is a tip-off I guess. It has lines about Iggy liking big tits but not being into dicks (meaning corporate fucks, nothing homophobic from Mr Pop here). But it is still utterly embarrassing. Not since Joe Walsh’s mid-80s nadir, ILBT’s, have you wanted to shrink up inside yourself to avoid being pinned as a fan of the artist.

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Fortunately that mid-album lowlight is over and done with and/or easily skippable – so we get that beaut-voice future-jazz crooning through Glow In The Dark, and it’s almost to Bowie’s Blackstar as a vibe; continuation of that work. They way those two borrowed phrases or put words in each other’s mouths; finished each other’s sentences…

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It starts to feel like moments from the Blade Runner soundtrack as Pop sings over Page and speaks across We Are The People, late-night washes of trumpet framing both.

And yes, this brief album trails off with three spoken-word pieces to finish, a cribbing of Dylan Thomas’ Do not go gentle into that good night here, his own apocalyptic The Dawn to finish.

It’s as mad and nearly-wonderful as Ig’s been since Brick By Brick and the tolerable bits of Avenue B. He’s aging as gracefully as someone that was never born to age can do it.

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Let me repeat, this album is no classic. It’s 33 minutes of sometimes silly, sometimes compelling oddities. But I love it. And you might too.
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