Iggy just not weird enough

The Stooges

"The Weirdness" (Virgin)

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THE first album since 1973 by the Stooges, one of rock's undisputedly essential bands, arrives without the sense of occasion that it might otherwise have, since the long-awaited reunion of singer Iggy Pop and bandmates Scott and Ron Asheton is old news: They recorded four songs for Iggy's 2003 album "Skull Ring," and have been around the reunion-tour block a few times (coming back again, to the Wiltern, on April 23).

The diminished anticipation might cushion the disappointment of this collection. While you wouldn't want these Stooges to simply remake, say, "Fun House," their 1970 masterwork of primal rock, it is fair to hope to hear the old chemistry, applied to some decent new songs that are faithful to the old spirit yet not tethered to the past.

That spirit -- of monolithic aggression, feral danger, alienation and rage -- wasn't part of rock's makeup until Iggy, guitarist Ron Asheton and his drummer-brother Scott emerged from Ann Arbor, Mich., primitive and proud, with an assaultive mix of blues and experimental psychedelia, delivered with confrontational theatricality by their emaciated frontman.

The Stooges turned their severe limitations of technique into an artistic signature, a crude, primordial simplicity that spelled identity and release for a small audience of disaffected, and despite the rejection by the mainstream, the Stooges' doctrine survived to resonate through garage, metal, punk, experimental and alternative rock.

Which means that they now don't sound very different from a lot of the music that's out there. On "The Weirdness" (due Tuesday), they sporadically catch that Stooges feel -- on the bashing opener "Trollin'," and the sax-stretched "She Took My Money." But overall the album sounds like another of the mixed-bag releases from Iggy's long-running solo career -- a career that's been sustained lately more by his enduring charisma on stage and his stature as a bold innovator and colorful survivor than by any great new records.

The music stings and slashes rather than bludgeons like a battering ram, and even with the esteemed Steve Albini producing and L.A.'s imposing Mike Watt playing bass (and original Stooges saxophonist Steve Mackay back on board), it doesn't have the kind of force and power that would show the kids how it should be done.