Iggy Pop Live and legendary at Victoria Warehouse
- Michael Bond
- 3 days ago
- 4 min read
O2 Victoria Warehouse, Manchester 31st May 2025
IMAGES / WORDS MICHAEL BOND
On a warm Saturday night in Manchester, Iggy Pop storms the O2 Victoria Warehouse with a performance that is as feral, fierce and unforgettable as the punk movement he helped pioneer. At 77, he is still every inch the anarchic icon he was half a century ago, delivering a thunderous set that radiates raw energy and unfiltered authenticity. Tonight is not a nostalgia show, it’s a living, breathing testament to the power of rebellion, individuality, and sheer will of a living legend.
Opening the night are Joe & The Sh*t Boys, an anarchic punk four piece from the Faroe Islands whose brief, brash set delivers exactly what a warm-up act should be, chaotic and fun. With confrontational lyrics, a cheeky attitude and breakneck pace, they win over the early crowd with ease. Their music is a high-octane homage to punk’s essence—short, loud, and unrepentantly anti-establishment. By the time they leave the stage, the atmosphere is already supercharged.
As the lights drop, Iggy emerges shirtless, wiry, and wild-eyed. The eruption from the crowd is instantaneous. He launches straight into “T.V Eye” and from the very first beat, the energy surges through the crowd like electricity, binding strangers together in shared elation. Without skipping a beat, he moves straight into “Raw Power” and “I Got a Right”, showing a relentless energy of someone half his age, as Iggy writhes, leaps and prowls the stage.
As the setlist motors on, Iggy is putting on a masterclass in punk history. “The Passenger” offers a moment of unexpected serenity, with its hypnotic melody the crowd have a brief moment to sway and sing, arms raised, united by its haunting refrain. “Lust for Life” follows straight after, with its infectious rhythm turning the warehouse into a bouncing, howling wave of sound and movement.
A personal highlight is “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” with its primal throb, it’s clear from that first chord that we’re witnessing something rare. The band is razor-sharp, providing the perfect sonic platform for Iggy’s snarling vocals and unpredictable movements. Iggy’s vocals punch through with clarity, guitars bite with urgency, and the rhythmic thump of the drums reverberates through the warehouse. “Search and Destroy” is up next, all ragged edges and explosive energy. It’s a one-two punch that sums up Iggy’s enduring appeal, melody and menace, chaos and craft.
Later in the set, he tears through “1970” and “I’m Sick of You” with blistering venom, while newer material like “Frenzy” and “Modern Day Ripoff” blends seamlessly with the classics, proving that Iggy isn’t simply revisiting old glories, but actively evolving his sound while staying rooted in punk’s raw foundations. There’s no pandering here, no phoned-in theatrics. Every scream, every gesture, every sweat-drenched contortion feels absolutely necessary.
His stage presence is magnetic, commanding, chaotic, and charged with an almost feral charisma. Clad in nothing but dark trousers, his physicality is astonishing. He throws himself into the performance with a reckless abandon that borders on the ritualistic. There’s sweat, there’s spit, there’s the unmistakable sense that you’re witnessing something real, something human and flawed and deeply powerful.
More than just a spectacle, there is connection. Iggy’s bond with the crowd is undeniable. From the front row to the back, people are locked in, mouths shouting lyrics, fists punching the air. With Iggy feeding off this energy and giving it back tenfold. He doesn’t just perform to the audience; he becomes part of it.
The crowd itself is a brilliant cross-section of generations. Lifelong devotees, many of whom witnessed Iggy’s earlier incarnations, standing shoulder to shoulder with younger fans discovering his magic for the first time. Everyone is swept up in the same tide, shouting, moshing, dancing like nobody’s watching. It’s a rare kind of communion that only truly great performers can inspire.
The night peaks with a blistering encore. “Real Wild Child (Wild One)” sends the room into euphoric chaos, with “Funtime” the perfect closer for a set that never once lets up. The cheers and chants that follow are deafening, a crowd reluctant to let the moment end. There’s a shared understanding here, that this wasn’t just a gig, it was an event. A happening. A moment carved into the memory.
What’s most striking is that, even after all these years, Iggy Pop doesn’t rest. He could coast on myth alone, but instead he earns every cheer, every stomp, every bead of sweat. His voice, aged and rough-edged, still cuts through the mix with startling clarity. Whether snarling with rage or crooning with melancholy, it’s never less than authentic.
In an era where many heritage acts resort to safe, sanitised performances, Iggy continues to defy expectation. He doesn’t just honor the spirit of punk, he is its spirit, alive and thrashing in the flesh. His refusal to be tamed by age or expectation is what sets him apart. There’s no filter, no pretense, only passion, chaos and art.
Iggy Pop’s return to Manchester is more than a nostalgic night out; it’s a reminder of what live music can be. Visceral, defiant and unforgettable. For those lucky enough to be here, this wasn’t merely a performance, but a declaration, punk is not dead. Not while Iggy Pop is still howling.
Setlist:
1/ T.V. Eye
2/ Raw Power
3/ I Got a Right
4/ Gimme Danger
5/ The Passenger
6/ Lust for Life
7/ Death Trip
8/ Loose
9/ I Wanna Be Your Dog
10/ Search and Destroy
11/ Down on the Street
12/ 1970
13/ I'm Sick of You
14/ Some Weird Sin
15/ Frenzy
16/ Nightclubbing
17/ Modern Day Rip Off
18/ I'm Bored
19/ Real Wild Child (Wild One)
20/ Funtime
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