Iggy Pop – Every Loser Review

Iggy Pop tries to clamour back some of his harsher notes and tracks with Every Loser, his latest album. It is far from the oddities of Free and even further away from the quality found on the likes of his earliest work. For those that have already engaged the hard-rock singles that were littered out to promote Every Loser, the quality is already defined. Pop still has the instrumental abilities of his youth, he does not however hold form when his lyrics are brought into the light. Opening track Frenzy is as nonsensical as it was when the single released, and Strung Out Johnny feels deflated when immediately following it up. Deflated. That is the key to Every Loser. 

Wrong choices for singles, then. Buoy the expectations for Every Loser if the singles alone are what attracts the project. Once they are out of the way, Pop opens up to new, rising challenges for his music. New Atlantis has a respectable guitar solo wedged in there toward the end, amid all the cowbell creativity and change of vocal range for Pop. Pills, pop and punk are still at the core of Pop’s music, although he feels reserved to attach himself to a new movement. Modern Day Ripoff feels the most likely and obvious criticism of that change in tone for the punk move. Again, the style of Every Loser is shown, with brief pangs of guitar work and some fairly solid vocalisations. Unfortunate creatures and a move past the throes of the heavy punk genre of days gone by, Pop reflects with honesty usually reserved for an autobiography. 

But that is what Every Loser feels like. Pop puts his life and his experiences on the line, it is just a shame some of the tracks are quite muddled. Morning Show is a clear highlight for this piece, a touching, acoustic-driven track that has such a wall of sound effect to it that Pop is drowned out almost by the lighter flourishes of this piece. A quality track, showcasing that straddled ride between the degeneracies of the devilish punk movement of the time with a need for somewhat clean, public living for the sake of promotion. Pop muses on that and many other parts of his life well throughout Every Loser, it is just a shame few of them strike through as anything musically impressive. All the Way Down has Pop sound like a growling cat with nasal intermissions. 

Every loser, then, turns out to be the listener. Losers listening in, poking Pop with a stick, hoping he performs as he once did. He is lyrically spent, despite the autobiographical flourishes found intermittently throughout Every Loser. Fine enough for a quick listen, and Every Loser is over before it cements itself as anything special. Repetitive and diminutive at times, All the Way Down is a clear example of how poor the album gets, that blend of patchy guitar solos covering up a lack of pursuing creativity. Comments is starry, spotty and Hollywood-laden, a criticism of where Pop found himself brushing shoulders. Every Loser has no time for irony, even if Pop did sell “his face to Hollywood”.