"I Wanna Be Your Dog" (The Stooges)

"I Wanna Be Your Dog" from The Stooges' eponymous, John Cale-produced debut album begins in a mangle of distortion and ends in a haze of wailing fuzz guitar.  In between, there's some clanging piano, jingling sleigh bells, and thunderous drums that sound like they're getting the daylights pounded out of them.
It's 3 minutes of primal perfection.
Quite simply, the song is Iggy Pop declaring that he wants to be objectified like a dog.  
Or as he put it to Howard Stern back in 1990, "It's the idea of 'I want to unite with your body.'  I don't want to talk about literature with you or something, you know.  I don't want to judge you as a person.  I want to dog you."
No more, no less.

"T.V. Eye" (The Stooges)

There's not much to say about "T.V. Eye" from the 1970 album Fun House.  
The premise is Neanderthal simple, primal even: it's about a girl giving a guy "the eye," letting him know that she's looking for more than a handshake.   
In terms of composition, it's an amalgam of a four-on-the-floor, pseudo-Motown beat (played with all the subtlety of a punch to the face) and heavily distorted, bluesy riffing, all serving as a backdrop for Iggy Pop's theatrical howls and hysterics.
In terms of musical inspiration and import, it's essentially four kids from Detroit trying to sound as much like their idols Howlin' Wolf and Bo Diddley as their technical abilities would allow and inadvertently laying the cornerstone of punk in the process.
Finally, it's meant to be listened to loud.  
Quite, quite loud.

"No Fun" (The Stooges)

Once upon a time, there was this amazing music store on Franklin Street in downtown Chapel Hill, NC, called SchoolKids Records.  It was the kind of place where you could ask the guys/girls behind the counter to listen to the new Pharcyde album, inquire when the new Beck was going to drop, and then have a 10-minute conversation about whether John Rutter's recording of Fauré's Requiem was better than Robert Shaw's recording.  It was Eden for a music junkie like me.

I knew a few Iggy Pop songs--stuff like "Nightclubbing" from his solo days, mainly via the Trainspotting soundtrack.  But I wasn't all that familiar with The Stooges.  I'd heard phrases bandied about like "godfathers of punk" in regard to the band, but I didn't know what that meant without context.

One Saturday, I walked down to SchoolKids for the hell of it, just to see what was new.  As I stepped through the front door, suddenly this two-chord riff smacked me in the face.  Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-a-dun...uh-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-a-dun...  It was raunchy.  Almost stupidly simple.  Yet it was perfectly syncopated with the drums and handclaps in the background.  

Was this some garage band playing a pep rally at juvenile hall?

Then this sneering voice spat out, "No ffffun.  My babe.  No fun."  And he went on like that for a few stanzas, spewing some more stuff that sounded like it was scrawled by a pissed-off teenager in his spiral-bound notebook during detention.
Then this frustrated plea came out of nowhere, "I say, c'mon, Ron...lemme hear you tell 'em how I feel!" and all hell broke loose with this howling, distorted solo that sounded like a wild animal stuck in a barbed wire fence.

As the vocalist's pleas to "Come on!" echoed off the walls, I marched to the checkout counter with my ears burning.  The song faded with one more blood-curdling scream for good measure, and the dude behind the counter asked if he could help me.

"I want a copy of whatever that was, right now," I told him.

And that's how I became an Iggy & The Stooges fan.