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Solo/Frontman *FINAL* Mick Jagger Vs David Bowie
- Thread starter Banned Tosspot
- Start date
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Anonymous
Guest
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Lou Reed.
Edited with grateful thanks to johnnyonthespot's logic.
Forgot all about that. You're a **** Pop.
Lou Reed.
Edited with grateful thanks to johnnyonthespot's logic.
Forgot all about that. You're a **** Pop.
johnny on the spot
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 19 Jul 2006
- Messages
- 24,748
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Lou Reed doesn't shill car insurance with rubber puppets.
Lou.
Lou Reed doesn't shill car insurance with rubber puppets.
Lou.
Blue2112
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Yes the insurance ads were shameful but on his day Iggy was dynamite.
Yes the insurance ads were shameful but on his day Iggy was dynamite.
LongsightM13
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Prefer Reed's music but he's a pretty lame and dull live performer. Iggy definitely beats Reed hands down on stage.
I think I'll go for Iggy as an all round frontman
Prefer Reed's music but he's a pretty lame and dull live performer. Iggy definitely beats Reed hands down on stage.
I think I'll go for Iggy as an all round frontman
1.618034
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Reed
Reed
Gelsons Dad
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Lou Reed
It's hard to run when a coat-hanger hits you on the thighs.
Lou Reed
It's hard to run when a coat-hanger hits you on the thighs.
guinnessdaze
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Both talentless,and yes i do have some of their music.
Both talentless,and yes i do have some of their music.
buckshot
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
Louuuuuuuuuuuuuu
Louuuuuuuuuuuuuu
keemcfc
Well-Known Member
Re: Solo/Frontman Iggy Pop Vs Lou Reed Round 33
*Puts on a thick Glasweigian accent*
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got Iggy Pop?
People think it's all about noise and trouble and toplessness and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't listen to it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you're still nowhere near it. When you're listening you have only one worry: neighbors complaints. When you're not you are suddenly obliged to listen to all sorts of other shite. Adele, too whinney. Dizzee Rascal the loud mouth fucker. Wee little Justin Beiber. JL-fucking-S. You have to worry about some football team that never fucking wins at Stoke, or in Europe. None of that matters when you're at a sincere and truthful Iggy gigg.
...Iggy Pop.
*Puts on a thick Glasweigian accent*
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got Iggy Pop?
People think it's all about noise and trouble and toplessness and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't listen to it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you're still nowhere near it. When you're listening you have only one worry: neighbors complaints. When you're not you are suddenly obliged to listen to all sorts of other shite. Adele, too whinney. Dizzee Rascal the loud mouth fucker. Wee little Justin Beiber. JL-fucking-S. You have to worry about some football team that never fucking wins at Stoke, or in Europe. None of that matters when you're at a sincere and truthful Iggy gigg.
...Iggy Pop.