" data-original-title="" title="">Dexter Gordon in a haze of sweat, distortion, and cigarette smoke. Raw Blow Power, released on the FuzzTone rock label, is that feverish hallucination brought to life—a snarling, swinging beast of an album that fuses proto-punk savagery with hard bop finesse.

The story goes that someone taped this lost session in a single booze-soaked night at the Grande Ballroom, somehow roping Iggy Stooge, Ron and Scott Asheton, and Dave Alexander into a jam with Gordon, fresh off a Blue Note gig. Someone unearthed this 32-minute explosion of primal energy and jazz sophistication from a reel in some Ann Arbor attic. The album title marries The Stooges' gritty anthem "Raw Power" with Gordon's saxophone bravado, promising a sonic slugfest—and it delivers.

The opener, "I Wanna Be Your Sax," sets the tone: Iggy's guttural yelp—"I wanna be your dog, blow me some horn!"—rides Ron Asheton's jagged psychedelic guitar riffs, while Gordon's sax slinks in like a cool cat prowling through a riot. His solo twists and wails, turning the three-minute punk stomp into a bizarre dance of chaos and control.

"No Fun (Bop Remix)" takes The Stooges' nihilistic classic and lets Gordon run wild. His horn weaves through Scott Asheton's thunderous drumming, adding playful runs and bluesy cries that clash gloriously with Iggy's deadpan drawl. At 5:02, it is the longest track here, giving Gordon space to stretch while The Stooges keep the furnace stoked. The interplay feels like a bar fight between a punk gang and a jazz combo—bloody, brilliant, and oddly harmonious.

Not every swing connects. "1969 (In 5/4)" tries to force The Stooges' sleazy groove into a jazzy time signature, and the result is a lurching mess—Iggy sounds confused, and Gordon's phrasing cannot quite find the pocket. But redemption comes with "TV Eye (Tenor Stare)," a slow-burn standout where Iggy's menacing croon meets Gordon's sultry, late-night sax. It is a hypnotic truce between punk menace and jazz mood, a track you would swear was cut at 3 a.m. in a dimly lit alley.

The production by Rudy Van Gelder keeps the mix gloriously unpolished. The Stooges' wall of fuzz stays intact, while Gordon's horn cuts through with crystalline warmth. Raw Blow Power does not linger, true to punk's brevity and jazz' knack for concise punches.

This album is a middle finger to convention, a love letter to reckless abandon, and proof that opposites do not just attract—they detonate. Is it jazz? Is it punk? It is neither and both, a feral beauty that will have you grinning through the madness. In sum, this live set makes you wish The Stooges had crashed more jazz joints back in the day.