Motorhead

It’s like the past twenty years never happened. Motorhead, an important part of our English musical heritage, a statement of ear-drum-destroyingly LOUD, hedonistic rock ‘n’ roll, are a band who have survived the past 25 years playing the soundtrack to every self-proclaimed rock parent’s lives. And it’s plain to see looking around, that even within the 2.4 children lifestyle their inner rock spirit still worships at the feet of Lemmy, their long-haired, handlebar-moustachioed, wart-nurturing idol with an indestructible liver, living the life that is the envy of many an old guitar-shop owner who, like the fella from The League of Gentlemen’s Creme Broulé, still harbour the fantasy of the rock life that he lives.

Filled to the brim with these long-haired guitar-shop owners and middle-aged parents – some with eye-openingly short skirts and a little too much cleavage – _The Hammersmith Apollo _serves as a vestibule to an era that may possibly experience a renaissance if people finally see past The Darkness as a novelty act.

The lights dim. The eyes on their backdrop glow an evil red. There’s a deafening roar of “Lemmy!”, and the legend that is Lemmy strolls casually onstage and flicks a verbal finger up at the sponsors of the venue they are about to play. “Fuck Carling man. We’re Motorhead. We play rock ‘n’ roooolllll”, he growls before rolling off his trademark buzzsaw bassline intro to the song ‘Motorhead’.

Well said man. I mean hey – this is Motorhead. You wanna be serving pints of Jack Daniels, not alcoholic wee that just about passes for low-quality lager to the average drunk punter. Talk about an insult. And you don’t wanna mess with Lemmy. Lemmy is God, or so says the t-shirt of the guy in front of me. And these are his flock. His hairy, drunk, head-banging flock who abide by his every word. When Lemmy says ‘drink’, you drink. When Lemmy says ‘scream’ you scream! When Lemmy says ‘rock’, you swing your hair round and air-guitar every riff. And when their kids see them doing all this they look on in disbelief. But then that's ok, because this is Motorhead.

Of course, their older material was always going to have the upper hand over songs like ‘Brave New World’, off their last album, the track really milking them dry of any inspiration they might still have. But it’s the quality Tap-esque drum solo in _‘Sacrifice’ _that makes up for it, despite being been just long enough to give Lemmy and guitarist Phil Campbell chance to pop out to a nearby restaurant or beauty-parlour *Spinal Tap *style before returning to the stage. Though slightly comedic, it still shows a band who are on top of their game.

Of course, we all knew the hits were saved til last so when Lemmy walks casually back onstage with the words _‘ok here it is then’ _before blasting straight into *‘Ace of Spades’ *the shiver coursing through your body and turning your legs to jelly almost seems electric, Lemmy’s voice having matured wonderfully with age and, erm… shiploads of JD. So when *Ginger Wildheart *is invited onstage to guest during _‘Overkill’ _he’s like a giddy little schoolboy grinning manically and almost too nervous to sing backing vocals.

Uncompromising and still quite unbelievably “louder than everything else” Motorhead are thankfully not going away any time soon.