"Lust For Life" by Iggy Pop

By Chris

I remember the movie Trainspotting, because that's where I first heard "Lust for Life." I was 15 years old sitting in my suburban mall's movie theater. I was a socially awkward teen, full of angst and raging hormones. I felt alienated from my Abercrombie wearing peers with their love of Dave Matthews Band, classic rock, and gangsta rap. As Iggy pounded his way into my head with declarations of over indulgence and raw emotion, I knew this was what I'd been looking for. The funny thing about coming to that conclusion right then and there was that I saw the movie with my mom, younger sister, and younger brother. I had lied to my mom in order to get her to take me to it. I told her that it was an action movie, and starred Sylvester Stallone. Afterward, I felt bad for exposing my then 9 year old sister to graphic depictions of sex, drugs, and violence. But it was worth it.

What I associate with that song is me coming out of my shell. I remember my best friend and I getting into punk. "Lust for Life" got me started going to local shows at VFWs, and churches. Of course, there was hair dye, silk screening, mail order, and drinking. There was getting sent to the office for wearing shirts that were inappropriate for school. However, when I got out of high school, and went onto college in the city, my interest in punk faded. I ran out of what was driving me in that direction, and my dedication to punk was replaced by interest in other types of music.

Listening to "Lust for Life" twelve years later, I like the song, but it doesn't have the same punch. I remember "Lust for life" as my go to song for when things were tough and I was upset. It was a reminder not to take things too seriously. Yet as much as I loved that song and despite all the music critics who talk about how important punk is... I'm still a bit embarrassed by my punk phase. Mainly its because I wish I would've went through it faster. I'm kind of a slow learner in terms of what makes me happy. A bit stubborn, too. My senior year in high school, I remember a supervisor at a fast food restaurant I was working at giving me a backhanded compliment. We were having one of those "philosophical" conversations that's painful to recall. At some point in the conversation I declared that I was a punk. He told me he was surprised, because I seemed to have more going for me than that.