When the Stooges took over the Hammersmith Apollo in London on August 30, Iggy Pop invited the crowd to jump onstage for a chaotic rendition of �No Fun� from the group�s 1969 self-titled debut. So with the assumption that no risk would be attempted twice, imagine my surprise when � as I was pressed against the railing that separated the Memorial Stadium�s floor from its stage � the fifty-eight-year-old demanded that security open the gates and let in the herds. In a city notorious for its emo kids and their nodding heads? Absurd!

But this crowd wasn't full of Seattle's usual. This show, the headlining act of the Bumbershoot Arts and Music Festival, Seattle's answer to South by Southwest, was a gathering of mothers and their ten-year old sons, leather-clad punks, thirty-year-old men who were there to kill time after Mudhoney's opening set, and not surprisingly an ample number of men old enough to be all the fathers I've ever wanted. Bringing everyone together in this bizarre unison was the desire to see this legendary group, comprised of original members Pop, guitarist Ron Asheton and drummer Scott Asheton and present bass player Mike Watt (moustache-free and taking over for the late Dave Alexander, who left the band after 1970's Fun House).

The show was so perfect that time became irrelevant. It was easy to forget that the whole thing was taking place in 2005. From the moment Pop spastically ran onstage in his usual getup (or lack thereof) to the final notes of encore "Not Right," the band churned out everything the audience could have possibly wanted. The Stooges tossed out one hit after another, conveniently excluding any songs not recorded by the original lineup. This eliminated any songs off 1973's Raw Power but made fair game two of the songs off Pop's Skull Ring (2003), "Dead Rock Star" and the title track, which the Stooges had collaborated on. And no one in the audience gave a shit that Iggy's recent solo albums weren't up to par. It all just kind of worked.

So when Iggy stopped "Real Cool Time" mid-song to tell those fuckers on security to open the barriers and let Seattle dance, Seattle was going to dance. And it did. Masses swarmed over the bars, proving that ten security guards could not prevent a crowd from touching Iggy Pop's bizarre muscles and singing "No Fun" into his microphone. Even after security gained control and frantically pushed crowd members back into their respective places (crowd members who, at this time, were yelling "I touched Iggy Pop" to their friends), we learned that a man approaching sixty could still take boundaries one step further when he unzipped his pants and revealed just a hint of crack to the audience for the show's remainder. Sure, it's not something I'd want to check out in a men's locker room, but hey -- it's fuckin' Iggy Pop. And that's how the night's theme ensued.