Iggy Pop should probably send thank-you notes to his personal trainer. Friday in a sold-out concert at the Salt Shed — the West Town venue now open and operational indoors — the singer bent, wiggled and folded his slender frame into contorted poses that belied his 75 years. The punk pioneer’s yoga-worthy moves were part of 85 minutes of nearly nonstop music that spanned the late ’60s to the present.
So much for a breather, let alone the retirement Pop hinted at in 2016, the last time he played Chicago.
Pop just released his first rock ‘n’ roll LP since the reunited Stooges issued their final album in 2013. As with most steps in his unconventional career, the in-your-face nature of “Every Loser” caught many by surprise — particularly given his preoccupation with balladry and atmospherics during the past decade.
Though Pop ditched nuance for feistiness for most of the concert, he carried over a quality that informs several of his recent lower-key works: organization. Backed by a septet, the singer focused on arrangements and put the two-piece horn section on equal footing with the rhythm section. The decision hearkened back to the Stooges’ incorporation of a saxophone in their early ’70s fare. It also spoke to Pop’s fascination with jazz and blues, and his connection with the R&B that poured out of his home state of Michigan when he was growing up.
Rather than constrain or flatten Pop’s most tumultuous material, Leron Thomas’ trumpet and Corey King’s trombone gave it extra body, shape and space. The duo’s brassy lines often covered parts normally reserved for guitars. Bold and sophisticated, the horns heightened hooks and punctuated transitions, underlined phrases and emphasized syllables. In doing so, they granted Pop avenues of expression that differed from the chaos with which he’s often associated.
Not that the singer held much back. The shirtless Pop performed a ballet of sonic and physical resilience. Feeding off the aggressiveness of the music and restlessness of the messages, he turned words into scowls, threats and rebukes. He yelled, whooped, howled, snarled and barked. Pop no longer detonates with the primal intensity he mustered well into his early 60s. Yet he can still shake some action — and isn’t shy about baring skin.
With his sinewy, scarred body resembling a well-worn piece of leather, Pop treated it not like a temple but as an instrument in service to bruised sounds. He swayed to the syncopated grooves of “The Passenger,” shimmied during a stripped-down rendition of “Lust for Life,” nestled close to fans for the dissonant “Death Trip” and swatted invisible enemies while shouting commands to his band on a confrontational “Gimme Danger.” He flipped microphones and fell to the floor, twisted his back into an S-curve, beat on his chest, swiveled suggestively, threw punches in every direction.
Save for the drift and drama of the aptly named “The Endless Sea,” songs warranted and encouraged the animated bluster. The warped drone and cold trappings of “Mass Production” embraced Brutalist architecture. “Frenzy” and “Modern Day Ripoff” ranted and raved, each conveying the abrasiveness of sand blasting against concrete. “I’m Sick of You” transformed from a woozy confessional into an angry diatribe. The signature “I Wanna Be Your Dog” was an impenetrable wall of sound that summoned the crowd to dance.
“I wanna know / Can you fe-eeeel it?” Pop sneered on “Raw Power,” his voice baiting even staunch wallflowers to drop their inhibitions. No matter. He already knew the answer to the question.
If anything could upstage Pop, it was the Salt Shed itself. Having just opened inside in mid-February, the interior is just as impressive as the exterior portion that debuted last August. Restored for an estimated cost of $50 million, the former Morton Salt complex and warehouse is more than just another place to see concerts; it’s an experience in and of itself.
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In the music space, which accommodates 3,500 people and features a formidable L-Acoustics sound system, the stage anchors the south end of one of the largest flat floors in the city. Overhead, a massive A-frame roof imparts a sense of grandeur. The exposed architecture reveals a matrix of tubes, rods, planks and trusses that echo the building’s industrial heritage. Ditto many of the surrounding reinforced-concrete walls, which still contain traces of salt.
Opposite the stage, a two-tiered 19-row seating area — complete with plush seats and reminiscent of grandstand layouts in movie theaters — provides dead-ahead views. It also grants a comfort absent from most mid-sized venues: the opportunity to watch a show without having to stand or peer over a mass of shoulders and heads. At the very top, lounge tables, seats and plenty of elbow room serve as reminders of Salt Shed’s enormous dimensions. On Friday, amplified sound reached that distant area with its midrange intact and projection fairly free of ruinous echo.
Accessible via a separate concourse, a premium seating area on the east side has small balconies that jut out at strategic angles facing the stage. Nightclub tables in surrounding spaces beckon patrons to mingle. In warm-weather months, large doors — concealed by drapes — can open to give concertgoers views of the venue’s outdoor stage or across at the downtown skyline.
The Salt Shed invites the energy of the city into the entire complex. Before the doors opened Friday, concertgoers gathered around a fire pit in the fairgrounds area amid light falling snow. Food trucks were parked adjacent to the future Goose Island brewery and an outdoor bar served drinks.
Bruce Finkelman — managing partner for 16? on Center, the hospitality group behind the project — has spoken previously about how the company fit its designs to suit the existing building. Constructed by local furniture manufacturer Dock 6, wood-appointed bars — which wouldn’t be out of place in a modish Fulton Market restaurant — seem like they’re meant to be there. Nothing appears forced or crass. Even the merchandise booths, set up in a wide lobby lined with refinished hardwood consisting of two-by-fours turned on their side, had class.
Though newness can color first impressions, Finkelman’s desire for Salt Shed to be a destination that tells artists and music lovers they’re appreciated is apparent even in restrooms, where no one will have to wait in line to wash their hands. Other cool details abound. A sculpture by found-objects artist Juan Ángel Chavez hangs above one of the main floor bars; the trusses stay illuminated when the house goes dark; graffiti tags painted after Morton Salt vacated the premises are preserved as décor. The Salt Shed is massive, but it feels comfortable, manageable — intimate, even.
On a tour of the backstage area, Finkelman identified features — multiple dressing rooms, a large catering area, a hall adorned with framed gig posters — that help treat musicians with respect. In that regard, Salt Shed is the logical expansion of an organizational pyramid that started in 1992 with the no-frills Empty Bottle and later expanded with venues such as Space and Thalia Hall.
The Salt Shed remains a work in progress. Finkelman is working to fill more of the building’s interior spaces, some of which are under construction. He hopes a barge or boat will dock next to the outdoor area this summer. He envisions luring acts that want the amenity of a second stage — something Salt Shed can provide with lighting and sound systems that can scoot to the middle of the room.
No matter what the future holds, he’s committed to one guiding principle: “Let the building shine through. It’s better than anything we could have created.”
Setlist from the Salt Shed in Chicago March 10:
“Five Foot One”
“T.V. Eye” (Stooges)
“Frenzy”
“Raw Power” (Stooges)
“Strung Out Johnny”
“The Passenger”
“Lust for Life”
“Death Trip” (Stooges)
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“The Endless Sea”
“Loose” (Stooges)
“Mass Production”
“Gimme Danger” (Stooges)
“Modern Day Ripoff”
“I Wanna Be Your Dog” (Stooges)
Encore
“I’m Sick of You” (Stooges)
“Search and Destroy” (Stooges)