Iggy Pop’s sunset-lit concert last night at Redmond’s Marymoor Park did not contain anything resembling the can-you-believe-he’s-doing-this provocations with which he became associated during his frontman stint in the late-1960s and early ’70s with his band The Stooges: cutting his torso with glass fragments, slathering himself with the contents of a passed-to-the-front peanut butter container before flinging helpings of it at the crowd gathered in front of him. 

But you could still detect the now-78-year-old’s rascally spirit as he impishly stalked the stage for his frisky, encore-free hour-and-a-half-long set. His limbs still noodly, he plowed through a series of Stooges and solo songs one might forget were not hits upon arrival. (It took years before Pop, who spent most of what’s now considered his most fertile creative period not particularly critically or commercially revered, was rightfully recognized as an influential, status quo-snubbing punk pioneer.)

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Photo credit: Vincent Guignet