Spastic, sweaty, and magnificent. Explaining the significance and appeal of Iggy Pop defeats the purpose. When you see Iggy, bloody and half-naked, writhing around and abusing an innocent potted plant, either you see a kindred spirit, or you run away screaming. When in a quandary, ask yourself what Iggy Pop would do, then do one-tenth of it. (You might still die.) If you hear a sanitized version of his ode to heroin addiction in a children’s movie or a television commercial, know that Iggy Pop don’t care. He’s way too punk for your hipster ideals of integrity. He’s spent too many years scraping rock bottom to say no to a fat paycheck and some free publicity. But don’t ask him to play at your wedding, because he’ll probably get naked and trash the place, just for old time’s sake.