Day five of Meltdown and the elegant surrounds of the Royal Festival Hall are bearing witness to some gloriously inelegant goings on. Motörhead, Sunn0))) and now, back from the dead, Detroit's mythical proto-punk maulers: this will surely go down as the RFH's loudest week. Tonight, curator-compere Jarvis Cocker barely has a chance to get his intro patter out before Iggy Pop bolts on stage, stripped to the waist, leaping and whooping and flailing every limb. Iggy Pop just turned 60 years old.
Squint and he really still could look 25, but you wouldn't say that of the other remaining Stooges. Drummer Scott Asheton, perched up high and hidden behind dark glasses, doesn't exactly make it look easy. His expression suggests this all requires a fairly epic feat of stamina and concentration. And guitarist Ron Asheton certainly can't compete with Iggy in the lean and tanned stakes; but when called upon to wrestle some squalling, feedback-ridden anti-solos from his guitar, he comes alive. Powerhouse bass player and non-original Stooge, Mike Watt (once of the also-legendary Minutemen), is the most animated after Iggy, throwing some fine shapes and doing much to hold down the classic Stooges sound - that relentless, thudding caveman stomp.
The set is front-loaded with vintage treats, the first hour consisting almost entirely of songs from the band's unimpeachable first two 1970s albums. An early high point comes with the dream double-salvo of I Wanna Be Your Dog and TV Eye, as feral and thrilling as ever. It's not long before Iggy is swan-diving into the front row; as much as it may be a devalued rock shock tactic in 2007, coming from this guy it is still a terrific, rousing moment. There are constant, faintly comical reminders of tonight's odd context - every time Iggy spills a beer or topples the mic stand, a stagehand rushes on to mop up after him. Thankfully, the health and safety killjoys don't stop one of the evening's best moments, when Iggy orders a full stage invasion during No Fun, and we are treated to the sight of 100 pie-eyed fans dancing almost as badly as Iggy himself.
Separate from the mop-men, another roadie type has been roaming the stage all night, cocking his ear to the gargantuan speaker stacks, looking genuinely worried that they might not be loud enough. Really, they're loud enough. In fact, it is pretty extraordinary, after all these years, how close to full tilt the Stooges ran tonight. Elegance be damned, the raw power is still with them.
· At Glastonbury festival, tomorrow.
