Maurizio ferrarotti torino è la mia città 2011

SAVE A TREE!
The Big Club, Turin, Spring 1988. The European leg of Iggy Pop’s Instinct World Tour. The venue
is crowded, the band is superb – Andy McCoy being the axeman! – and Iggy is on fire. It’s my first
Iggy concert ever. I had missed him five years ago in this same town, Breaking Point Tour it was
named then, decidedly appropriate since Iggy was really close to the second breaking point of his
turbulent career. So tonight I couldn’t fail absolutely. The Ig is back in the saddle with true grit
riding a heavy metal horse. I’m here with the bunch in my Ron Asheton-like leather jacket, drinking
beer then getting into the pogoing crowd then back to beer then pogoing again and so on.
Cold metal, it’s gotta be. Better save a tree. Save a tree, save a tree, save a tree, save a tree, yeah!
That skinny pogoing hipster with bleached hair in the front row is astonished: “Save a tree? Oh...
SAVE A FUCK?” So he clears his throat and spits at Iggy. Fuck you guy this ain’t 1977! Mr
Osterberg doesn’t react. He keeps slowly crawling off stage like a stoned iguana. The peroxide
anachronic moron follows him almost in parallel, once again clearing his throat. Iggy crawling
careless in a whirl of feedback. Still, just a moment before disappearing behind the scenes, my Ann
Arbor hero suddenly turns his head and spit in the boy’s face. Leaving that little poseur astounded.
He he he. Good job Iggy! Luv ya. Save those fuckin’ trees!
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