Give Up Your Clothes For Tibet

PHOTO BY TRACY KETCHER

 

As the headliner for the Tibet House US Annual Benefit Concert at Carnegie Hall Friday night, Iggy Pop stomped through the first few lines of "The Passenger" before tearing off his top. "Fuck this shirt!" he snarled. It's not a very Tibet House mentality–the organization was founded by Robert Thurman and is devoted to preservation of Tibetan culture–but never mind.

Patti Smith, backing Pop with her band after her own set, picked up the discarded sweater and twirled it over her head, grinning.

Organized by composer Phillip Glass, the fundraiser featured what Smith called music's new voices and its "sacred veterans." Other performers included Glass on piano; big-voiced teenager Tenzin Kunsel, Regina Spektor, Gogol Bordello, and others. The benefit opened with an invocation by Tibetan monks from the Drepung Gomang Monastery.

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May 2012

Friday was billed as a night with "Phillip Glass and Friends" and to attend felt like being privy to a particularly star-studded jam session chez Glass–which Carnegie Hall is, in a way, for an artist with so much history with the venue. Kunsel performed one song with an ensemble of Tibetan instrumentalists, then another backed by Smith's band. The Scorchio String Quartet played a piece for strings alone and accompanied performers like singer-songwriter Pierce Turner. Everyone joined in for a finale of the Smith anthem "People Have the Power." Sets by Pop and Smith proved the two to be punkish and puckish as ever, if Smith is a bit more "dreamy Earth Mother" than before. She opened with a cover of the O'Jays' "Love Train," inserting a wondrous, baffling interlude about letting the Tibetan New Year's iron tiger "stretch its wings."

Some previews of the event mused whether Pop would stay fully clothed at the esteemed classical venue. Those debates were put to rest. Running through "I Wanna Be Your Dog," Pop preened and vamped across the stage, diving into a crowd that had clustered up front. He draped himself against the speakers, wriggling his fingers suggestively at opera-box patrons as his black jeans slipped down his hips. Beckoned by Pop, the folks in the boxes jumped up in their seats, waving to him wildly.

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