New York Confidential: Iggy Pop
Ed McCormack, Rolling Stone, 30 August 1973
HIS PLATINUM hair was ratty; his polo shirt was wrinkled and a big plastic hairbrush-handle stuck out of the back pocket of his Midwestern Prole wheat-jeans. None of the kids lined up in the stairwell at Max's Kansas City for his midnight set noticed Iggy Pop when he passed them on the way upstairs to the dressing room.
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