I am 25 years old and so is Motorhead so it’s no coincidence that we both rock the pathetic crust of this planet to no end (OK, so Motorhead is a year older – damn you sticklers!). These days, we find ourselves just stuck in the tone deaf amber of sub-par music. There seems to be no escape from the endless drudgery of teenybop, adult alternative rock, dance fluff, techno jibber jabber, drum and bass booms, etc., but there’s only one hope and it comes in the ugly, in-your-face package of Motorhead. It’s tried and true, time tested, dirty, heavy rock’n’roll guran-fucking-teed to make your neighbors, brothers, sisters, parents, teachers, religious leader, any authority figure, and some of your more pathetic Weezerphile friends pissed off as all hell.
You know real rock’n’roll ain’t good unless someone (anyone) hates it and all this P.C., hold my hand, love, and kindness, yank and jerk bullshit that’s going around in music these days makes it even more evident that the only band that matters in the universe is Motorhead. They don’t care about your feelings, probably their own feelings too, which is a good thing because being self-unaware is the key to pure art. There’s a certain affinity one feels for the self-touted (yet a deserving title), “Loudest band on earth.” If you’re a criminal, druggie, psycho, whore, delinquent, or any social deviant – Motorhead is the band for you. If your idea of a good time is a view of the city with a slut that doesn’t say no, a chili dog and some cold beer, Motorhead is the band for you. If you wake up with a cocktail to keep the hangover away, Motorhead is the band for you. If you value the pliability of leather pants and the way body grime turns your denim articles that ironically fashionable peculiar greenish tinge, then Motorhead is the band for you.
Lead growler and bass pounder, Limey, I mean, Lemmy Kilmeister celebrates his fifty-sixth birthday this year and all I can say about that is, “The AARP will never be the same in about 9 years and counting.” As metal ages and its cast of “motley” characters start to show signs of wear and tear, Lemmy laughs his arse off as he is still in prime shape, looking as awful as he did even when the band started. His counterparts are not so lucky as evidenced by recent publicity photos of ex-pretty boys, Motley Crue, whose sole good looking member is now Mick Mars – yikes! Lemmy is truly rock royalty bestowed with that genuine tough guy, take-no-shit attitude that is both regal and crude at the same time. He is, without a question, one of the most enigmatic figures in music with his legendary tales of self abuse, a penchant for writing some of the most machismo-laden lyrics ever, and collaborations with great many talents over the years including Ozzy Osbourne, Girlschool (Motorhead + Girlschool= Headgirl), The Damned (Lemmy was their bass player during a reunion show back in ’78 where they were known as Les Punks due to contractual stipulations), Lita Ford, etc.
Guitarist Phil Campbell stretches those strings and takes it to soaring levels of inspired metal guitar wizardy – take that wanker, not rocker, Yngwie Malmsteen! Mikkey Dee’s drum solo during the set gives new meaning to the word “bass pedal” as he takes the “pedal to the metal” (Ya get it? Ha, I love those silly metal euphemisms!). His inimitable, hyper-speed skin bashing is just short of remarkable. If you closed your eyes you won’t be able to envision a PERSON playing that fast, I mean it sounds like a Ministry drum machine. The trio performed some of their greatest hits like “The Ace of Spades,” “Orgasmatron,” complete with a special guest appearance of glamazonian trailer goddess, Corey Parks spitting her trademark flames into the crowd of excitable moshers from O.C., “R.A.M.O.N.E.S.” was patriotically and appropriately dedicated to those who lost their lives in NYC, the crowd rousing (as if they needed to be roused more!) “Overkill,” “Killed By Death,” “Live to Win,” and a Motorhead version of “God Save the Queen” which was dedicated to all the punks out in the crowd by Lemmy himself (yes!).
I don’t care what anybody says about the absence of Philthy Phil, I thought the band was tighter than any virgin fuckhole in a nunnery. Motorhead is a definite must see for all. It’s a spectacle of grandiose hard rocking, a pageant of drunken debauchery, and best of all a Motorhead show is as American as, fuck, – beer, boobs, and rock’n’roll!
Gimme, gimme some Motorhead!