LONDON—Iggy Pop hobbles to the side of the stage at the Alexandra Palace, rocks back and forth on his shorter right leg like a high jumper who left his pole in the changing room, and bounds toward the microphone as the band kicks into “TV Eye.” Shedding the formality of his waistcoat, and having omitted to wear a shirt, he contorts his bare, sagging, crepe-skinned but tanned torso and sings the blues.
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