Not only did Motörhead find the space between heavy metal and punk rock, they conquered it with a leaden roar, a barreling hell no other group has ever come close to replicating. At the center was Lemmy, a figure who epitomized rock n’ roll in such a way it seemed he never lived an inauthentic moment.
Thank god he existed for any amount of time, let alone ’til seventy. Thank god for the work he’s left behind. Overkill, Ace of Spades, Bomber, 1916—we have a king’s ransom of deafening pleasures.
I will always regret not seeing Motörhead in concert. Specifically, on their ’99 tour with Nashville Pussy and Gluecifer. In a perverse way, I thought it might be too good. So I stayed home. Trust me, this one really aches.