Music: LEMMY AT 'IM It's the sort of noise Brixton last heard when the Luftwaffe roared over; GAVIN MARTIN on the latest live album from hard rock's ageing overlord.
25 And Alive: Live At Brixton HHH
Early during this concert - recorded in 2000 to celebrate 25 years of Ian "Lemmy" Kilmister's favourite band - the music stops. "If you aren't deaf now after 25 years, you haven't been to see us enough," he cackles, like some wart-ridden, Banana Republic bandit on a musical killing spree.
Indeed a little Motorhead, say once every decade or so, goes a long way for most of us. But for Lemmy and his hardcore following, it is absolutely the last word in grease-encrusted, denim-clad, leather jacket-wearing, chain-brandishing hard rock.
Motorhead exist in a time and place before the big short-wearing, hair-gelled, nu-metal hordes or pantomime rockers such as The Darkness ruled the Earth. And this concert goes some way to backing up their fans', and Lemmy's, insistence that they are the alpha and omega, beginning and end of metal madness.
A vicar's son who was trained as a horsebreaker, Lemmy became an unashamed rock Neanderthal shortly after Hawkwind fired him in 1975. Living on a diet of Jack Daniel's and cheap speed that would have turned lesser lights into gibbering wrecks, he has seen Motorhead members come and go but the sound of the group's metal overkill has remained steadfast.
An early indication of Lemmy's sympathies came when the rest of the group left him in the studio to remix the classic Ace Of Spades single. They returned to find him with his feet up on the console, toking on a spliff the size of a prize-winning marrow. The faders on the bass guitar channel were past 11 and all the other controls were set to zero. No prizes for guessing which instrument Lemmy plays.
Unsurprisingly, the first thing you hear before the opening We Are Motorhead is reverberating bass feedback, the sort of noise Brixton probably hadn't heard since the Luftwaffe roared overhead some 60 years earlier.
From thereon resistance is futile as Lemmy thumbs his nose at Elvis on I'm So Bad, Baby I Don't Care, sings The Sex Pistols' God Save The Queen sounding like old man Steptoe with a bad case of piles and offers "advice for all the adolescents of today" on Stay Out Of Jail.
Lemmy - now 58 - evidently considers surprises, musical progression and adventurous musical crossovers for wusses. It is certainly hard not to be simultaneously impressed and tickled by the Boy's Own fury of Iron Fist, Killed By Death and Bomber.
Cynics might point to the strangulated guitar histrionics on Overnight Sensation and say isn't this the sort of thing Lemmy berates the Hawkins brothers for? But pick a fight with Lemmy and you might come off worse than Ozzy after a quad bike accident.
Not deaf yet? Give it another 25 years and you will be.
WARTS AND ALL: The one and only Lemmy
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|Publication:||The Mirror (London, England)|
|Date:||Jan 16, 2004|
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