Being under the age of thirty has it's drawbacks. First, any attempt to grow a glorious moustache ends in humiliating patchy failure. Second, we don't know much about Iggy Pop, even though we know that we should.
So what better place to start than a live show and at the best festival in the world?
First impressions are of surprise that (a) it sounds good, still timely and (b) that he's not topless.
Thankfully, only the former of those impressions remains in tact by the end of the show, with Iggy Pop still the prince of the grimy, noisy, rock and roll underworld.
Oh, and hands up everyone who thought Iggy was going to lamp the guy that kissed him when he invited all those people on stage for Raw Power?