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If there was ever a woman who looked as good as Turner for as long as Turner, I have yet to see her. Bryan Adams, who once toured with Tina, said, "I never saw Tina walk through a performance. She always put on a great show, and was gracious and grateful to her audience." It's done wonders for her ass. Her legs and general below-the-belt region have been the stuff of legends for decades now. How does she do it? It's been fifty years and the woman still hasn't sat down. Most septuagenarians are enjoying a slower pace earned with old age; Tina Turner still wears thongs.
On the precipice of a glam-rock revolution, Americans and Brits stared at David Bowie with complete amazement. Was this a boy or a girl? Is this a boy's butt or a girl's butt? Please tell me who this butt belongs to. I need to know if I'm allowed to like this butt was the sentiment of early Bowie days. He challenged our notions of sex and identity for decades with some well-placed tape, a strategic haircut, and lots of body-hugging spandex. What has your ass done for gender equality lately?
Before this year, I rarely connected "Erykah Badu" with "butts." Earlier in her career, I would find myself thinking, "Pretty, bluesy, I don't get it" or "This is supposed to mean something — interesting." Just about the only thing I think when I see her now is "I have seen your butt. I have seen your butt." Perhaps you've seen her butt, too; Badu's video for "Window Seat" follows her with a single camera as she strips down to nothing in Dallas's famous Dealey Plaza, where President Kennedy was shot. As you can imagine, some thought it was in poor taste for a pop singer to disrobe at the site of a presidential assassination. The rest of us still can't believe we got to see all of her.
Peaches took a page or two from David Bowie's book — in fact, she's the nearest living thing we have to a female clone of the '70s glam rocker. David Bowie had Space Oddity and Ziggy Stardust, Peaches has ass, pubic hair, and lasers. She's ridden a pyrotechnic penis and composed entire songs on a laser theremin, but we really just prefer it when she's shaking her gender-ambiguous butt in our faces, daring us to say something.
No one has consistently done leather pants right like Iggy Pop. For four decades he's pissed off, turned on, and completely bewildered audiences with every inch of his body. And while his torso is still a wonder of modern medicine (and possibly fine Spanish leather), it's his butt we care about. Sure, he'll dangle his penis during live performances, and yes, we are appropriately outraged. But there's something about the way he moons fans: how far down he bends, the rigor that goes into it — as if he really wants you to understand what mooning means. I don't understand, but I’m still glad he does it.