I was walking by yet another Iggy Pop ad yesterday. I think it is for car insurance. The billboards, like the TV spots, feature a haunted looking Pop, in a “conversation” with a puppet doppelganger of himself- a miniature twin who chides him for his poor choices in past coverage matters, telling him that he is wasting time.

The ad is both perfect and the definition of horror. Perfect, as Pop once told Manchester luminary Tony Wilson that…”the ONLY REASON” he was allowing anyone to interview him was so he could get his “face on more screens…my name in more papers and in more print…and to expand my fame…also, to…increase my financial power.”

I am totally understanding and supportive of musicians getting paid, spreading their talent. I do not believe in the proverbial “selling out.”

It is almost frightening how Pop’s 1977 interview foreshadows the now ghastly literal hollow figure he has become. It is said that Ian Curtis killed himself while listening to Pop’s legendary album, “The Idiot,” a seeming perfect title in countless way. How will this mythological piece of the Curtis legend hold up in light of the mocking Pop of late? Pop seems to be making fun of the rock persona, an idea that he helped create. I can not help but think that me, Curtis, anyone who has rocked out to “I Wanna Be Your Dog” was somehow had, believing in his “authenticness” while truly laboring under the agenda of his own admitted want for cash. Or simply is there not a market for ageing punker, in a media where the “27 Club” is a brand in itself.

- Jennifer Otter