The lights dimmed, wails discharged, the Stooges instigated "Raw Power" and from the shadows of the stage comes a sprinting and shirtless Iggy Pop in skin-tight pants. His ripped body and mind proceeded to whip the Chicago crowd into a 75-minute rage in an exhibition of audaciousness few could imagine without bearing witness to. Iggy Pop and the Stooges are one of punk rock's most seminal acts. They never sold a lot of records in their first go round, but over the years their legend has only grown by leaps and bounds. Reformed in 2003, the Stooges have been delivering their brand of no-nonsense rock and it pulled into Chicago, one of only a handful of US cities blessed with their presence this year. It's the first Chicago performance since the death of guitarist Ron Asheton in 2009 and while it's bittersweet, they made their mark proving to everyone that they're not hanging it up any time soon.

Despite little promotion, the band delivered its entire seminal 1973 album, Raw Power throughout their explosive and pulverizing 16-song set. Anyone who feels as if rock n' roll is a young man's game has never seen Iggy Pop in the flesh. For nearly 75-minutes, he thrust, seared, stage-dove and serenaded the Chicago crowd like a fallen angel trapped beneath the surface of the Earth being scalded by the fires of hell only to break free. Pop played the stage like it was a stadium gig in a third world country. The stage was bare with nothing but instruments on it but few noticed as Iggy put on a greater physical spectacular than any video game or interactive video screen ever could. Despite all of this, Pop was able to show no boundaries because of the stupendous backing band that supported him. Guitarist James Williamson laid down thick and loose garage rock chords while bassist Mike Watt felicitously delivered nimble grooves amidst the careening snare drum slap of Scott Asheton. On "1970" the bass and drums smashed together like two cars into an intersection but it was glorious as it was sprinkled with Williamson's wailing guitar slapped on top. "Shake Appeal" found Iggy bringing a good portion of the crowd onto the stage to dance the night away. The stage is a communal space and Pop proved it wasn't reserved merely for the band, but for all those there. Even the horrific dancing by the audience didn't seem to matter, it was the essence of what rock n' roll embodies further exemplified by the dripping strains of sweat that slid down the walls.

The sound inside the Riviera tipped towards the atrocious and normally would be a huge flaw, but on this sticky and sultry evening, it only enhanced the experience where t-shirts and jeans seemed to be the uniform of choice. The sold-out crowd removed their own clothing to deter the extreme humidity. "Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell" evoked Detroit soul with Steve Mackay providing some vivacious saxophone fills. "A Love Supreme" found Pop whipping his microphone stand to the air while "I Wanna Be Your Dog" had the crowd chanting the chorus religiously at the top of their lungs. By "Night Theme" Pop's body glistened with sweat as if he had just been released from a gargantuan orgy. "I Need Somebody" featured bluesy interval that was as close as the band would get to taking a breather the entire night. "Penetration", "Death Trip" and "Open Up and Bleed" closed out the main set in a righteous manner. There's something about a band from the Midwest understanding and embracing one of its own. This reunion never should have happened. There are those cynics who say they shouldn't have sullied their legacy by reforming but I say hogwash. Anyone who has seen one of these shows knows exactly why. It's dangerous, wild, sporadic, commanding, influential and downright enthralling.

I was caught in a torrential downpour of distortion with a mad man jumping from stage to crowd song-to-song. Pop must have stage dove at least a dozen times (I lost count). Writer's tend to over exaggerate certain performances with highfalutin adjectives but Pop's performance transcends mere words, I have never seen anyone like him before and probably never will again. He doesn't copy, mimic or channel anyone in his performance; it is a fully primordial force that comes from somewhere within that no would dare tap into even if they could. When he wailed "Somebody gotta save my soul" on "Search and Destroy" you believed it as if it was the sermon on the mount. I've never seen anyone throw themselves into a performance the way he does. It makes my use of the term seem superfluous in any review I've ever written. It's akin to writing about the awesomeness of beef when you've only divulged it at McDonalds. I saw someone in a stadium recently who should have engaged the crowd the way Pop did. He didn't and barely moved more than five feet the entire evening despite playing to tens of thousands more than the Stooges. The word "boundaries" doesn't exist in Pop's vocabulary. He is as fearless and ferocious as any disgruntled 18-year-old, in fact, I doubt anyone that young could command a crowd the way Pop can. I come from the school of Springsteen, where you don't insult your audience with half-assed performances and shortened sets. The Stooges slayed the Chicago crowd as epically as Springsteen at his best; the only difference being they did it in half of the time. Trust me, one more song and I would have been passed out on the ground dead, it was that brutal and severe. Anyone who ever picks up an instrument and plan on playing in a rock band should see Iggy and the Stooges. It should be the first class required in Rock N' Roll 101. They embody everything anyone has ever loved about the art form. As it was insurrectionary, inspiring, insurgent, involving, inspirational, insane and downright Iggy.

Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter