Showing posts with label Motorhead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motorhead. Show all posts

No sleep 'til heaven ... for Lemmy

A tribute to a fallen legend
By Peter Lindblad

R.I.P. Lemmy Kilmister
Nobody really believed that Lemmy Kilmister was actually indestructible. He was human after all. His recent death only serves to sadly drive that point home like a knife plunged straight into the heart of rock 'n' roll.

A kind of mythological figure, Motorhead's leader of the pack and former Hawkwind space-rock astronaut only seemed impervious to the Grim Reaper because he could guzzle bottles of Jack Daniels at a time, take as many drugs – never heroin, of course – as he liked and have as much sex as humanly possible with a multitude of partners.

None of that made him especially heroic, although, if blessed with an iron constitution like Lemmy's, who wouldn't want to experience such uninhibited and unfettered debauchery, if only for just a month or a week? Alas, all most of us can do is live vicariously through someone like Lemmy, someone who embodied the rock 'n' roll lifestyle and happily indulged in its all-you-can-eat buffet of vices. We needed the larger-than-life Lemmy in that strip club. We needed Lemmy knocking back enough booze to kill a horse and apologizing for nothing. Live free or die. No compromise. That made him rock's greatest anti-hero, untouchable and cool and immune to the judgement of self-righteous arbiters of morality. He ate sacred cows whole and spit out the bones. He had his own moral code, his own fashion sense – he wore "daisy dukes" shorts for god's sake and he wore the hell out of them – and interests outside of music that some might find distasteful. Lemmy didn't care what anybody else thought. That was his super power, and it made him bulletproof, as least when it came to criticism.

They made a movie about him, of course. How could they not? It was called "Lemmy," it came out in 2010 and if you haven't watched it, go and do so immediately. It was a revelation, and it showed that behind that tough, fearsome exterior was a generous soul, a proud father and a staunch, if unconventional, feminist. Not everything about it painted Lemmy in a good light, but he wouldn't have wanted some whitewashed version of the truth anyway. This was Lemmy, warts and all, and you couldn't help but love him. In the end, he emerged a beloved figure, a mentor even to some artists and to others a loyal friend for life. Nobody seems to have a bad word to say about him, and the outpouring of affection and adoration – things he abhorred by the way – since his passing has been a flood of biblical proportions. Punks and metal heads may not agree on everything, but they do find common ground on this: Lemmy and Motorhead were the genuine article, the band he fronted an exhilarating juggernaut of violence and speed and he played thunderous bass with reckless abandon, like an old moonshiner fleeing Johnny Law down treacherous country back roads. And if you didn't want to come along for the ride, so be it. There were no hard feelings on his part.

Incredibly candid and matter-of-fact about his own extraordinary, swashbuckling exploits in the movie "Lemmy," its namesake had nothing to hide and very few, if any, regrets, making it plain to anyone that this was a man who lived life on his terms. Artistically, he was no different. In a tweet following Lemmy's death, Alter Bridge's Myles Kennedy called him a "rebel poet," and that's fitting. His lyrics were searing in their honesty. They were philosophical and funny, and the furiously filthy, punk-metal nastiness of Motorhead, delivered with such volcanic intensity and ungodly volume, roared like the bikes of the Hell's Angels, providing the perfect vehicle for his defiant point of view. It was good, honest rock 'n' roll, just like the early stuff from the '50s that he loved. And don't forget that Lemmy also sang lead on Hawkwind's brilliant "Silver Machine" and served as a roadie for Jimi Hendrix. His story has many chapters, and all of them are utterly fascinating.

Lemmy leaves behind a slew of great Motorhead albums, such as Overkill, Bomber, Ace of Spades and the full-throated live LP No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith, and the band's most recent output – including this year's Bad Magic and 2013's Aftershock – could absolutely hold its own against the classics. Whether there was a will or not, everyone gets an inheritance from Lemmy, be it in the form of great music or the example he set. Think about it. How many of us desperately want to be truly free? And how many of us are so tied down with responsibilities that it becomes an impossible dream? Lemmy had mastered existence.

And even though he probably would be horrified at the thought of being put up on a pedestal or considered some kind of role model, there are lessons to be learned from Lemmy, especially for the next generation of musicians. Don't chase trends. Play to your strengths. Be true to yourself and your artistic vision. Honor the past, but don't be a slave to it. Be unique and be real. All are somewhat esoteric ideals, and it's harder than it sounds to stick to any of them. Lemmy did, and he was a legend because of it. And even though he had no use for religion, if there is a heaven, they should make welcome him with open arms at those pearly gates. The parties would be legendary.

CD Review: Motorhead – Bad Magic

CD Review: Motorhead – Bad Magic
UDR
All Access Rating: A-

Motorhead - Bad Magic 2015
Soldiering on despite increasingly alarming health issues, Lemmy Kilmister leads Motorhead on another balls-to-the-wall, rock 'n' roll escapade, this one called Bad Magic. Keenly aware of his own mortality, Lemmy – with a little help from his friends  – seems intent on going out in a blaze of glory, releasing one fireball of an album after another.

The formula doesn't change. Taking pride in being gritty, fast and ugly, as they always have, Motorhead again goes straight for the throat, and on the UDR release Bad Magic, Lemmy and cohorts Phil Campbell (guitars) and Mikkey Dee (drums) are addicted to the speed of blazing anthems "Victory or Die," "Thunder & Lightning" and "Electricity." It's as if they feel the Grim Reaper hot on their heels, as they race through a more melodic "Evil Eye" and blacken the earth with a scorching "Teach Them How to Bleed," hardly ever stopping to catch their breath.

While the deteriorating effects of age are creeping into his vocals, Lemmy's vile snarl is still vicious and mean, free of any studio or computerized enhancements that might add a synthetic and dishonest youthfulness that would send any Motorhead follower worth his salt into a disillusioned rage. Focus instead on the dogged grooves and hooks of "Fire Storm Hotel" and "Shoot Out All of Your Light" –the latter a powerful squall of dizzying guitars – and get blown away by the big, high-impact chorus and churning riffs of "The Devil." To top it all off, Motorhead brings their leaner cover of The Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For the Devil" back to the street, a rather faithful version that's even tougher than the original. Aside from a fairly standard and lugubrious, if still smoldering, ballad in "Till The End, there's nary a misstep on Bad Magic, where Campbell's solos and leads are absolutely searing and Dee's beat factory working furiously to keep up with orders. Sticking to what works with determination and editing out the fat, Motorhead still has that old black magic.
– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Nashville Pussy – Ten Years of Pussy

CD Review: Nashville Pussy – Ten Years of Pussy
Steamhammer/SPV
All Access Rating: A+

Nashville Pussy - Ten Years of Pussy 2015
Lemmy knows a thing or two about pussy ... Nashville Pussy, that is.

To the sainted leader of one of rock 'n' roll's most notorious bands, these raunchy, Southern rock reprobates are the real deal. In Kilmister's own words, "If there's ever been a better band to open for Motorhead, I've not heard them!"

Any doubters should acquaint themselves with Ten Years of Pussy, a new 22-track, two-disc "best of" collection from Steamhammer/SPV that's a 120-proof distillation of everything that's great about rock 'n' roll, taking the best Nashville Pussy material from the last decade of recorded material and pairing it not with a nice glass of Chardonnay, but rather a handful of live firecrackers that should be handled with care instead.

Unapologetically nasty and unrepentant about its sinful ways, Nashville Pussy's shotgun wedding of AC/DC's metallic crunch, the rowdy, red-neck swagger of Lynyrd Skynyrd and punk's reckless energy makes them as potent as moonshine on such fist-pumping anthems as "Come On Come On," "Pussy Time," "I'm So High" (with Danko Jones) and "Why Why Why," their infectious choruses swimming in STDs and drunken rebellion. And while they don't mind getting messy and sloppy, as they do on the rambling, Stones-y bump-and-grind of "Before The Drugs Wear Off" and the torn-and-frayed blues of "Lazy Jesus," Nashville Pussy favors hooks and mean-ass riffs as tight as Mick Jagger's pants, the blazing – not to mention hilarious – condemnation of the modern Confederacy "The South's Too Fat to Rise Again" absolutely scorching the earth.

And while the main package of choice Nashville Pussy studio tracks offers an essential primer for anybody still unfamiliar with how cohesive and powerful a unit they are – the salacious crawl of "Til The Meat Falls Off The Bone" is a particularly wicked delight – an extra disc of six vicious, rip-roaring concert cuts from Blaine Cartwright, Ruyter Suys, Bonnie Buitrago and Jeremy Thompson makes them seem even more savage and combustible when freed from the studio. Burning like Jack Daniels going down the wrong pipe, the Southern-fried boogie meltdown of "Nutbush City Limits" and the raucous, one-two punch of "Struttin' Cock" and "Late Great USA" are pumped full of adrenalin and wired on trucker speed. And that's just how God intended Nashville Pussy, champions of trailer-trash excess and poor decisions, to play.
– Peter Lindblad

Grammys not showing their "metal"

Awards show gets it wrong ... again
By Peter Lindblad

AC/DC gave a commanding
performance at this year's Grammys
For just a second, let's forget about Kanye West and his weird obsession with getting Beyonce a Grammy. Can we talk about the Grammys and their "heavy metal problem?"

Why can't they ever seem to get metal right? Smartly, the Grammys kicked off their soul-sucking awards show with AC/DC doing "Rock Or Bust" and then following it up with a galvanizing performance of "Highway to Hell."

Katy Perry – yes, that Katy Perry – had plastic devil horns on her pretty little head and was flashing signs. Lady Gaga was losing her mind over it. Everybody was on their feet, from clueless industry executives to Dave Grohl, celebrating the survival of battle-scarred veterans rocked by a founding member's debilitating health problems and another's bizarre legal battles.

Oh, Grammys ... we knew you cared. This was a magnanimous gesture, one that would surely lead to peace between an institution that either had no clue about metal or was intentionally dismissive.

Metallica's ... And Justice for All
lost the Grammy to Jethro Tull
And then came the award for Best Metal Performance. The National Association of Recording Arts and Sciences first recognized metal in 1989 with a category known as Best Hard Rock/Metal Performance Vocal or Instrumental. A lot of people forget that "Best Hard Rock" part, because that year, the Grammy inexplicably went to Jethro Tull's Crest of a Knave. over Metallica's ... And Justice For All.

The metal community has never forgiven the Grammys for that disaster. Still, there is that nagging feeling that at least they were taking into consideration the "Best Hard Rock" part of the equation in making the decision. Still, hardly anybody mentions Crest of a Knave anymore, except when people want to talk about how out to lunch the Grammys are when it comes to heavy metal.

Over the years, the title of the category has changed, and Metallica has ended up with their fair share of Grammys. Controversy has dogged this area, with Soundgarden's Chris Cornell wondering why Dokken was nominated in the heavy metal category a year later. Many, including yours truly, had a beef with Soundgarden winning a Grammy for "Spoonman" in 1995.

Here's the rest of the entrants that year: Rollins Band's "Liar"; Pantera's "I'm Broken"; Megadeth's "99 Ways to Die"; and Anthrax's groundbreaking collaboration with Public Enemy on "Bring the Noise." Little did Cornell know that he'd be living in a newly furnished glass house five years later when he made his remarks about Dokken.

Anyway, the point is, there have been good choices and not-so-good picks in the past 15 years, but surprisingly, the Grammys had generally avoided making complete fools of themselves in that time. That is until last year, when the show cut off a performance from Queens of the Stone Age, Trent Reznor, Dave Grohl and Fleetwood Mac's Lindsey Buckingham before it was finished – a sort of musical coitus interruptus, if you will.

Reznor declared a self-imposed exile from the event forever. They were insulted, and it stands to reason that aside from Grohl, who always seems to want to play peacemaker, none of them will ever do the Grammys again. Black Sabbath's win aside, this was not a good moment for the Grammys and metal. This was Vladimir Putin defecating in Obama's corn flakes. And that doesn't even take into the Grammys' In Memoriam snub to Slayer's Jeff Hanneman, repeated again this year with its overlooking Gwar's Dave Brockie.

So, we come to this Sunday's event, filled with the usual ridiculous drama and lame thrown-together collaborations it's always had and awards handed out to the undeserving – Beyonce, I'm looking at you!

But here comes Best Metal Performance. In this category are Anthrax's "Neon Knights," Mastodon's "High Road," Motorhead's "Heartbreaker" and Slipknot's "The Negative One" – all worthy candidates. But, when that envelope was opened, the award somehow went to ... Tenacious D's remake of Dio's "The Last in Line."

Okay, Tenacious D are great at what they do, and Jack Black and Kyle Gass came up with an amazing version of "Last in Line," doing Ronnie James Dio proud. But choosing a slap-sticky acoustic comedy duo over four incredible bands like that? It's a, pardon the pun, joke ... and it smacks of the Grammys consciously and with malice of forethought again spitting on metal. What it comes down to is this: whatever you think of the Grammys, at the very least, they are supposed to recognize sublime artistry in music. By that yardstick, it's hard to even fathom why Tenacious D was nominated in the first place.

And lest you believe this is rampant paranoia or an oversensitivity as to how metal specifically is mistreated by the Grammys, do you think for a moment they'd ever choose somebody like Tenacious D over their precious Taylor Swift or Sam Smith in any other category? Not in this lifetime. This was a decision made carelessly and deliberately so, and because of that, it's a slap in metal's corpse-painted face.

I don't buy the notion that the Grammys are simply lorded over by old geezers who somehow just don't get metal and make decisions based on a lack of awareness. That argument didn't hold water then and it doesn't now. They've had all this time since the Jethro Tull debacle to figure out how to give metal the respect it deserves. And time and time again, they prove they just don't give a shit about it. This is the Grammys saying, "Hey, I've seen those guys in the movies. Forget all the rest of those clowns. Let's give it to them. I liked 'The Pick of Destiny.' Hell, 'Nacho Libre' was a work of cinematic genius!"

And if the Grammys really and truly were paying attention to metal, wouldn't they stop trotting out the same old acts to reward retroactively for sins of the past? Wouldn't they include newer acts in the Best Metal Performance category, like Revocation, Periphery, Animals As Leaders, etc., etc.?

Trashing the Grammys is dumb. It's like a vegan trying to get McDonalds to give up beef for tofu. They'll never change. I hate talking about them. And yet, here we are. Damn it, Grammys ... you've won again. Visit http://www.grammy.com/ and tell 'em what you think. At least Brann Dailor got to show off that cool suit.


CD Review: Emigrate – Silent So Long

CD Review: Emigrate – Silent So Long
Spinefarm Records
All Access Rating: B+

Emigrate - Silent So Long 2014
In danger of being forgotten, having sat idle since launching their self-titled debut album all the way back in 2007, Emigrate has emerged from a long exile to release Silent So Long, another fine example of slick alternative-metal engineering masterminded by Rammstein guitarist Richard Kruspe.

The impact of the Emigrate's sophomore record is felt immediately, as Kruspe and company load Silent So Long with enough pulsating punk energy, misanthropic electronic menace and industrial, metallic crunch to excite and unnerve even the most stoic and cynical of scene observers.

Clean, urgent and modern, Silent So Long is bolstered by the contributions of several big-name guest vocalists. On the sexy and seductive "Get Down" the always provocative Peaches slithers over throbbing, creeped-out cyber funk that somewhat resembles Massive Attack's "Angel" and the whole thing explodes when the bombing campaign of crashing guitars is initiated. With Korn's Jonathan Davis' subversive intonation, the closing title track is just as sinister, as dub undercurrents quietly rumble and roll in the song's deep recesses. And then there's the gravelly voice of Motorhead's Lemmy Kilmister adding grit to the racing, but almost weightless, "Rock City" flying down musical straightaways.

Somewhat innovative, although not a great leap forward in that respect, Silent So Long is, nevertheless, a modern-rock, radio-friendly monster, the big, irrepressible hooks and heavy, driving momentum of "Rainbow" and "Giving Up" tailored for such programming. In a perfect world, so would the swaggering opener "Eat You Alive," featuring a devilish Frank Delleti, from the popular German band Seeed, on the mic and giving '70s glam-rock stomp a futuristic makeover.

Emigrate's first album cracked the Top 10 in Germany, and it's not a stretch of the imagination to believe this one will, too. While it could be the soundtrack to some sci-fi film noir experiment, the multi-layered Silent So Long is, at its core, an album based around strong beats, surging rock riffs and impenetrable song structures, and that's always an appealing formula for luring listeners.
– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Orange Goblin – Healing Through Fire

CD Review: Orange Goblin – Healing Through Fire
Candlelight Records
All Access Rating: A

Orange Goblin -Healing Through Fire 2014
Time hasn't diminished the medicinal powers of Orange Goblin's 2007 album Healing Through Fire.

Slightly crispy and fuzzy around the edges, its bluesy, motoring riffage doused in gasoline and lit on fire, Healing Through Fire is a blazing stoner-metal arson for the great unwashed that never got a proper promotional tour Stateside – something singer Ben Ward has always regretted.

Their only Sanctuary Records release, Healing Through Fire was the band's sixth LP. Falling into obscurity, as Orange Goblin went on hiatus until 2011, it became a rare find recently for Goblin obsessives. Reissued by Candlelight Records with rampaging, greasy live renditions of the album's most infectious tracks, the muscular, writhing "The Ballad of Solomon Eagle" and the rugged, down-tuned harbinger of chugging evil "They Come Back," Healing Through Fire deserved a better fate, especially considering how dramatically it relives the suffering, grave fear and reeking death of The Great Plague and London's Great Fire of 1666.

Evocative and captivating lyrically, the words delivered with Ward's bestial vocal roar, Healing Through Fire is a furnace of an album, managing to sound wide and heavy on a hot and nasty "Hot Knives and Open Sores" and the brawny, seismic "Vagrant Stomp," while never succumbing to sluggishness. Even the punishing doom-metal pounding of "Cities of Frost," this swinging sledgehammer smashed repeatedly into a brick wall, is delivered with rage-filled intensity, and the relentless groove-mongering of "The Ale House Braves" circles with dangerous intent before charging into the breach without hesitation.

In spirit, Orange Goblin could be the hell-spawned bastard child of Motorhead, but on the smoldering "Beginner's Guide to Suicide," with its slide guitar, smoggy organ and pained harmonica, they play dirty blues with the devilish charm of Cream – rumbling, demented and psychedelic. Although Joe Hoare's guitar leads throughout Healing Through Fire are sharp and searing, just as his riffs are meaty and brutal, it's his expressive soloing on "Beginner's Guide to Suicide" that steals the show.

Until Orange Goblin's next studio full-length, which is apparently under construction, this violent revisiting of one of the band's surefire classics should mollify the pitchfork-wielding villagers waiting for more from these shaggy metal bikers. Let the Healing ... begin.
– Peter Lindblad


Nashville Pussy – Up the Dosage

Nashville Pussy  Up the Dosage
Label: Steamhammer/SPV
All Access Rating: A-

Nashville Pussy - Up the Dosage 2014
"The South's Too Fat to Rise Again" may be the greatest song title in history. And "Hooray for Cocaine, Hooray for Tennessee" isn't too shabby either. Yes, Nashville Pussy is at it again, offending the humorless and churning out morally repugnant, 190-proof Southern rock grain alcohol spiked with so much sleazy punk attitude that it could cause blindness, if ingested in mass quantities. 

That's a small price to pay for energetic, shit-kicking rock 'n' roll this ballsy. The black sheep of this white trash family, guitarist/vocalist Blaine Cartwright, says of Up the Dosage that, "This is our Back in Black!" And he isn't just whistling "Dixie." Taking a cue from AC/DC, they aim for simplicity on the rowdy Up the Dosage, packing it to the brim with solid, hot-wired riffing and degenerate songwriting born with a swagger. Political correctness be damned, this souped-up Nashville Pussy are as funny and raunchy as ever, as Cartwright details a sordid, booze-impaired tryst with a high-spirited pregnant women who's "meaner than shit, hotter than Hell" in the Rolling Stones-y, Let It Bleed-era "Before the Drugs Wear Off," featuring a tasty boogie-woogie style piano that channels the spirit of Ian Stewart. 

Then there's the hilarious ode to masturbation that is the high-octane, rip-roaring "Rub it to Death," its turbo-charged, muscular guitars threatening to tearing themselves away from the bones of such mean, cocksure hooks, just like those found in the pulse-pounding "Spent" and an accelerated, utterly infectious "The South's Too Fat to Rise Again." This is Nashville Pussy, the fast version, and like Motorhead, they play rock 'n' roll – unrepentant, dirty and with a taste for drugs and everything tawdry.

Cartwright's wife, guitarist Ruyter Suys, goes for the throat on Up the Dosage, her solos sounding like a hail of gunfire. That's her singing on the hit-and-run blast of gutsy psycho-billy known as "Taking it Easy," and she is a commanding presence. It helps to have sound that is richer and more vibrant than past efforts, and for that, sound engineer Brian Pulito is to be commended. Ultimately, though, it's Nashville Pussy's mix of metallic crunch and ZZ Top's bluesy nastiness, so prevalent on the title track and mid-tempo drawls "Till the Meat Falls Off the Bone" and "White and Loud," that makes Up the Dosage such a tasty meal, even if the cook probably spit in the food.
– Peter Lindblad



Best of 2013 in Hard Rock and Heavy Metal ... Part 4

It's the final countdown 
By Peter Lindblad

And so, it's come to this. The final five. The best of the best.

2013 turned out some truly monstrous and carnivorous hard rock and heavy metal, as All Pigs Must Die's Nothing Violates This Nature simply devoured the competition. Motorhead did what it always does, but somehow, Lemmy Kilmister and the boys did it better than they have in a long time.

ASG took a great leap forward, Michael Monroe made people forget about Hanoi Rocks, and Clutch stopped messing around and made the most direct and gripping appeal for a rock 'n' roll revival of anybody in the last decade.

But, before we dig into the five courses set on this table, what about some great records that didn't make the top 20 cut? Stryper's utterly compelling No More Hell to Pay and Kingdom Come's moody Outlier deserve something more than honorable mention, as do Stone Sour's House of Gold & Bones Vol. 2 and Bad Religion's Due North.

Alas, choices had to be made. So, read on, and see if you agree with them.

All Pigs Must Die - Nothing Violates
This Nature 2013
5. All Pigs Must Die: Nothing Violates This Nature Take members of Converge, the Hope Conspiracy and other merchants of death metal. Throw them together into the deepest, darkest pit of inhumanity, let them paint on the walls scenes of violence and murderous madness with their own filth and give them guitars, bass and drums. They will marry blistering hardcore and extreme metal in the unholiest of ceremonies, creating one of the most ferocious and aggressive albums of the year. Rampaging riffs and crazed, writhing rhythms get all gnarled and twisted by backbreaking shifts in dynamics, as All Pigs Must Die turn heavy, bringing about immense power surges, or speeding headlong into scenes of unimaginable brutality. Few entities have ever spewed this much hatred with such exacting and raging articulation.


ASG - Blood Drive 2013
4. ASG: Blood Drive – Once upon a time, ASG stood for All Systems Go. Copyright issues forced these North Carolina stoner metal/Southern rock mystics to shorten the name, but with Blood Drive, ASG has shown it is ready for launch. Mammoth riffs and tantalizingly slow tempos bid you to follow, becoming sirens that lure listeners into towering forests and craggy mountains of sound. Occasionally, ASG flies to celestial realms, gazing about in wonder as they try to comprehend just where they ended up. More often than not, though, ASG knows exactly where they're going, and they are unafraid. A cookie or some orange juice is needed after this Blood Drive.

Motorhead - Aftershock 2013
3. Motorhead: Aftershock –Contrary to popular belief, Lemmy is not indestructible, as his recent health scares have so frighteningly illustrated. Aftershock, on the other hand, could never be destroyed. It's that cockroach of an album that would live through anything. Like all Motorhead efforts, Aftershock is audacious, high-octane rock 'n' roll, with some bluesy grit thrown in for good measure. Constantly in danger of going off the rails, it somehow manages to always stay on track, picking up speed and running over anything that gets in its way. 

Michael Monroe - Horns and Halos 2013
2. Michael Monroe: Horns and Halos – Thank God for Michael Monroe. Still making great rock 'n' roll that belongs in a gutter and looking fabulous in his tattered glam-rock garb, Monroe is on fire these days, having released in recent years not one, but two albums of rousing, straightjacket-tight rock anthems with hooks all over the place, energy to burn and a little bit of a punk sneer on their dirty faces. Horns and Halos didn't just give 2011's Sensory Overdrive a run for its money. It stole its wallet, ducked down an alleyway to escape and divvy up the loot, and then blew it all on prostitutes and drugs. " … Junkies, pimps and whores, hallelujah," indeed.


Clutch - Earth Rocker 2013
1. Clutch: Earth Rocker – Clutch trimmed the excess sonic fat, like any good studio butcher, leaving the lean meat of Earth Rocker, as Neil Fallon and company concoct a dish with this rock 'n' roll protein that couldn't have been more flavorful. Straightforward, never wandering off into places it shouldn't go, Earth Rocker was propelled by the force of its own sinewy momentum, its groove-metal engine always running clean and hot. Never has Clutch sounded this focused or this tight, Earth Rocker assuming even more power and ballsy drive than seemingly all of its past efforts combined. We all should be earth rockers.

Doro meets Lemmy, disaster ensues


Singer describes first encounter with the Motorhead main man, offers update

By Peter Lindblad

Anyone who dares to have a drink with Motorhead’s sage rock ‘n’ roll outlaw Lemmy Kilmister does so at
DORO - Raise Your Fist 2012
his or her own peril. Doro Pesch found that out the hard way.

“When you drink whiskey cola with Lemmy, you know, it is 90 percent whiskey and 10 percent Coca Cola,” cautions Pesch, fresh off a North American tour in support of her newest Nuclear Blast release, Raise Your Fist.

Such a ratio would normally kill a lesser man or woman, if consumed in ridiculous amounts. Doro survived her first encounter with Lemmy … but just barely. And she almost did irreparable harm to her burgeoning music career in the process. “I don’t think Lemmy remembers it, but I remember it,” says Doro.

It was the early ‘80s, as Pesch recalls. Warlock, the traditional German power-metal band she formed in 1982 with Rudy Graf, Thomas Studier, Michael Eurich and Peter Szigeti, was still in its infancy and looking for their big break.

“The first time I got invited to go to London, to England, by a magazine … that was very important,” explains Doro. “It was Kerrang magazine, and it was before I had even gotten an American release. And back in the day, it was like you had to do really good in England to get a chance to go to America.”

At the behest of Kerrang, Doro was invited to a party and asked to play a couple of songs. The significance of the occasion was not lost on Doro. There was a lot on the line for her and Warlock. Fully aware that she needed be on the top of her game, she agreed, even though her band was back in Germany.

“I said, ‘Okay,’ but the record company [Warlock was first on Mausoleum Records] said just one person goes over from Warlock, and I said, ‘Well, okay,’” recalls Pesch. “So, I went over and they put together a band for me, like a couple of other musicians, and we were doing sound check and it was maybe ’82 or ’83. And yeah, we were rehearsing, it sounded really good. I covered a couple of Free songs and they sounded good, but the pressure was on. I was so stressed out. I thought, ‘Oh God, I’ve got to represent well for the record company, for the magazine people,’ and there were tons of press there.”

After sound check, Doro had some time to kill. So, she went around the corner and walked into a pub to get something to eat or drink. And who should be there but Lemmy, one of Doro’s metal idols.

“I saw somebody who was standing there, and I thought, ‘Is that Lemmy? And then I walked up to him and said, ‘Are you Lemmy?’ And he said, ‘Yes. Are you Doro?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ And I thought, ‘Oh, that’s great,’ but I couldn’t speak English at all. I had no idea what he was saying, and I said, ‘Do you wanna have a drink – whiskey cola?’ And I thought, ‘Oh yes, yes,’” says Doro.

Lemmy, of course, does not drink like normal people. As Doro says, a whiskey Coke for him is a whole lot of whiskey and just enough soda to add a hint of sweetness. Young and naïve, she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

“And we smoked some cigarettes, and it was one whiskey cola after another,” remembers Doro. “So, I had a couple of drinks, and I didn’t want to say, ‘No,’ because I didn’t want to chicken out. So I had a couple more, and I thought, ‘Oh my God.’ And he said, ‘Dora, don’t you have to do a gig?’ I said, ‘Oh, yeah.’ And then I walked out of the pub. I couldn’t even … I think I was probably shaking. I didn’t even know where I was going.”

Amazingly, Doro found the club where the party was in full swing. “And then people were saying, ‘Doro, you have to jump onstage. Your show …’ And I went onstage and I couldn’t remember the lyrics anymore,” says Doro. “I couldn’t stand up, and then I was sitting on the drum riser, and then I waited until the band was finished. And then I walked off. And the record company and everybody were in shock.”

In her inebriated state, Doro had some explaining to do.

“They said, ‘What happened to you? What happened?’ And I said, ‘I met Lemmy,’” says Doro. “And then everybody started laughing. They said, ‘Okay, little girl. Now that’s a good excuse.’ And that’s how we got our record deal in America. So that was my first time meeting Lemmy, and we’ve become real good friends.”

So good in fact that two years ago, DORO, the band, toured with Motorhead. And Lemmy sings a duet with Pesch on the pained ballad “It Still Hurts” off Raise Your Fist. She feels that fans were quite receptive to the new material on the month-long North American tour she just wrapped up at the end of February, a jaunt that was somewhat hazardous due to inclement weather.

“It was a wonderful tour. It was awesome,” says Pesch. “There was lots of snow, though, and lots of snowstorms, and oh man, in some cities, there was so much snow and ice, we were afraid that nobody would show up. But, it was always packed, even though it was cold out.”

Now that it’s over, Doro and company aren’t ready to take a break just yet.

“Next week, we go to Russia,” says Pesch, who lives now in both New York City and her native Germany. “The Full Metal Cruise, that’s another cruise liner metal thing going in Europe. And then we want to do all the summer festivals and do some more gigs in the States. And keep touring for the rest of the year, and then I celebrate my 30th anniversary in music. And I want to do it a couple of times. I want to do it the first time at Wacken, at the Open Air festival in Germany in August. And then I want to do it once in New York and in Paris, and then probably do a great DVD out of it, because, of course, I want to do it great, with great guests and spectacular shows and the best pyrotechnics and whatever … it’s great, great, great. And then I just did the second part of [the film] “Anuk – The Way of the Warrior.” [In the first movie, released in 2006 with Krokus’s Marc Storache also acting in the film, she played the warrior Meha] We did the first part and now we’re doing the second part. I’m writing some more songs for the soundtrack, and I hope it will come out in 2013 or 2014. It always takes a little longer to break into cinema, so probably the beginning of 2014 – and then more touring and hopefully, another long American tour.”

More of our interview with Doro Pesch will soon be available. In the meantime, visit www.doromusic.de to find out what DORO are up to. 

Saxon’s wheels of steel keep turning


NWOBHM legends return with a new LP 'Sacrifice'

By Peter Lindblad

Saxon's current lineup includes Nibbs Carter, Nigel Glockler,
Biff Byford, Doug Scarratt and Paul Quinn (Photo by Kai Swillus)
Dodging flying beer bottles and sidestepping brawling hooligans isn’t everybody’s idea of fun.

Biff Byford and the boys of Son of a Bitch, precursors to the New Wave of British Heavy Metal legends Saxon, always found trouble in one particular live venue in the northeast of England – in the industrial town of Burnley – called the Bank Hall Miners Club, but that didn’t stop them from playing there as often as they could in the early days.

As the lanky Saxon front man recalls, “The money was good.” And it had to be, because there was a real possibility that one or all of them could wind up in the hospital after the gig.

“It was a club for miners, as the miners had their own club,” says Byford. “That was pretty hard actually. That was a pretty hard place. There used to be fights there every time we played – not because of the band, but because there were two gangs that used to stand across each side of the room looking at each other, and then at some point, they’d all charge at each other and that would be the end of the concert. So yeah, it was a bit rough. It was like ‘The Blues Brothers,’ where they’re throwing pots and bits of beer at the band and things.”

Even for young men craving rock ‘n’ roll excitement and even danger, the violence of the Bank Hall Miners Club in the late 1970s was a bit much for Byford and Son of a Bitch. They had to make a buck, though. And, regardless of the trials and tribulations of barnstorming England in a cramped van and performing at clubs and bars where many of the patrons might want to take a swing at them, it beat the hell out of working in the mines.

“When I was 17 or 18, I was working in the coal mines,” says Byford. “It was difficult. It was really hard work. When you’re that young, you’ve got mates in there, and I wasn’t in there for very long. It was a dangerous place. But, yeah, I know what it’s like to work hard for everything.”

Perhaps that’s why Son of a Bitch, and later Saxon, originally had such a large following in working-class communities in the north of England and in South Wales, landscapes once dominated by factories and “cut off from the south,” the more pastoral area of Britain, as Byford says.

“I suppose people just wanted to go out on a Friday or Saturday night and have a great time and just watch a great band,” says Byford. “All these little villages or towns had clubs or bars, and we used to play them. You could play one every night for a month. And that’s what we did.”



The song “Stand Up and Fight,” off Saxon’s newest LP Sacrifice (a video of the making of the album is shown above), out on the UDR label, speaks to the struggles they encountered before the tsunami known as NWOBHM swept through the U.K. If the raging thrash and thundering traditional metal of Sacrifice – as well as other recent efforts like 2011’s Call to Arms, 2009’s Into the Labyrinth and 2007’s Inner Sanctum – is any indication, the indestructible Saxon has rediscovered the passionate intensity and raw energy that made their early ‘80s albums such classics.

Making a ‘Sacrifice’
Saxon - Sacrifice 2013
Sacrifice is Saxon’s 20th album, and for the occasion, Byford decided to take the con. Or, in other words, he assumed the role of producer, and he wasn’t shy about giving out orders.

“I just really wanted to make an album that I liked and not be beholden to the people who are not doing it,” says Byford. “The fans are quite happy with that, so that was good … there are no ballads, just good rock music, just good metal music. That’s what I wanted to do.”

The plan was to revisit Saxon’s most revered albums – the early ‘80s holy trinity of Wheels of Steel, Strong Arm of the Law and Denim and Leather – for inspiration, while incorporating the balls-out, crash-and-burn mayhem of the thrash-metal titans of today who were weaned on the NWOBHM sound Saxon helped establish.

“I mean, we went back to the ‘80s a little bit for two or three of the songs, just to figure out what made us great,” explains Byford. “I think ‘Warriors of the Road’ and ‘Stand Up and Fight’ are sort of thrash-metal-y like the ‘80s were, and yeah, I just wanted to play with Marshalls and Gibsons really, and just play and not rely too much on too many digital tricks and just play like it is really. Some of the stuff is quite modern, like ‘Made in Belfast’ is a really heavy song, with the Celtic sort of style. We were experimenting as well, but yeah, I wanted the songs to have that kind of push like it was just recorded yesterday, but still have that one foot in the past.”

Infused with Irish folk accents, “Made in Belfast” certainly has historical significance.

“It was originally just a heavy riff and a melodic turn,” says Byford, referring to how the song was constructed. “I wanted it to have a Celtic feel to it, so we went and Paul Quinn wrote the more Celtic part of the beginning and we put it in the song. We liked it that much and it’s in all the bridges of the song. And in Belfast, not the song but the city, I went to see the museum, the Titanic museum. And I just thought it would be nice to write a song for the people that worked on the ships really, rather than those who were [passengers] on the Titanic.”

“Walking the Steel” also expresses empathy for the plight of the working man, although this time it’s the construction being done on One World Trade Center – one of the new towers being built on the old site of the former World Trade Center, which was destroyed by the 9/11 terrorists – that stirred Byford’s imagination.

“I went to Ground Zero in 2011, and we saw the progress being made on the towers, and we were talking to a couple of guys there,” says Byford. “And they called it ‘walking the steel,’ when they worked up there in the clouds.”

Available as a standard jewel case CD, a limited-edition deluxe digibook, a vinyl picture disc, a digital download that comes with a bonus song or in a direct-to-consumer fan package, Sacrifice was mastered by in-demand producer Andy Sneap, who has worked on a number of recent high-profile metal releases.

“We’ve known him for quite some time, and we wanted to work together a little bit last year, or the year before, but couldn’t get to it. He had a little bit of time free ‘cause the Killswitch [Engage] album was delayed a few weeks. So, I asked him if he wanted to mix the album, and he said he’d love to mix the album. So, that’s how it happened really, just over e-mail. He came down to the studio to talk a couple of times, while I was recording the band, and we came up with a plan.”

Giving Sacrifice that contemporary feel was important for Byford, as songs like the title track have the heaviness and raw power he imagined it would, while retaining that classic Saxon sound.

“I’m a bit mixed really. I love the melodic stuff, but I also love the heavy stuff as well,” admits Byford. “I guess I’m a bit of a hybrid really. I love the melodic stuff – ‘747’ from the early albums – but I also like ‘Motorcycle Man’ and ‘Princess of the Night,’ so I’m a bit of a sucker for it all really.”

And he’s in absolute awe of the guitar work of Quinn and Doug Scarratt on the latest record, as well as the performances of the band as a whole.

“The musicianship of this band is great,” says Byford. “So it’s a lot easier to go to different places with this band than it was with any other band. So, yeah, it’s great this time. It’s really inspirational.”

Road tested
Back in the 1970s, Byford only had to witness the tough lives of his fellow miners to give himself the push he needed to make it as a musician.

In 1976, Byford, guitarists Quinn and Graham Oliver, bassist Steve “Dobby” Dawson and drummer David Ward – who would soon be replaced by Pete Gill – formed what would become Saxon in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, only they started out as Son of a Bitch. They toured England relentlessly, as is recounted in the 2012 Saxon documentary film “Heavy Metal Thunder.” The venues weren’t exactly posh settings.

“We played a lot of clubs and bars,” says Byford. “Yeah, we thought it was great fun, although they were very rough. There were a lot of fights and things.”

Part of the excitement involved having copious amounts of sex with groupies in the band’s van – which also housed their gear – after a gig. Their one-night stands occasionally got them into hot water.

“You had to have a good pair of running shoes to get out of the way,” jokes Byford. “There was always somebody’s girlfriend that liked one of the band members, and you had to get out pretty quickly.”
While the U.K. club circuit provided Saxon, who ditched the name Son of a Bitch fairly early on, all the thrills and excitement they could stand, they had bigger dreams. And they had no intention of being just a covers band, which only served to rile audiences.

“In the early days, we used to do like three sets,” recalls Byford. “We used to stop and have a break and then start again. And usually by the end of the set, all of them were pretty rough actually. And we really didn’t do cover songs back then. So a lot of people used to ask for ‘Smoke on the Water’ and all (laughs). And we said, ‘We don’t play that.’ And then they’d usually riot, you know what I mean? After a while, people would come to see us because we were a good band then, so we actually got on a little bit easier as time went on.”

Securing support spots on tours with bigger bands, including Motorhead, gained them much-needed exposure and expanded their fan base.

“It was our first tour,” says Byford, referring to Saxon’s opening gigs with Motorhead. “I mean, they were pretty big then in the U.K. at the time. So, yeah, we jumped on their tour. It was great actually. They helped us out a lot – telling fans to buy our records and things. They were really cool about it. They were great.”

Gaining momentum, Saxon got signed to the French record label Carrere, which put out their self-titled debut in 1979. Carrere, however, would experience financial difficulties, and when the label went under, Saxon was homeless. It wouldn’t take them long to find another label, and in 1980, they released Wheels of Steel, which yielded the singles “747,” the title track and “Suzie Hold On.”

So began a period of intense creativity and ceaseless touring, with Saxon appearing at the very first Monsters of Rock concert on Aug. 16, 1980.

Saxon - Wheels of Steel 1980
“We’d just gotten Wheels of Steel in the charts,” says Byford. “I think it had just gone gold in the U.K. So we went onstage … and it just was crazy, with 80,000 people going nuts, singing all the songs. Yeah, it was great. It was quite emotional for us. It was the first time we played to more than 2,000 people.”

On the road, Saxon encountered larger audiences and they were frothing at the mouth for something different. Much to their surprise, Saxon found itself at the vanguard of a burgeoning movement. NWOBHM was happening, and Saxon was taking notice “straight away really,” says Byford.

“It’s not like the U.S. It’s not like a massive country,” he adds. “In the U.K., it happened pretty quickly for us – two or three big magazines got a hold of it and gave us some fantastic reviews. You know, we played quite a few shows in the early days of Maiden, like at Manchester University and places like that. And yeah, it was a bit of a melting pot of bands really. I remember we played with a band called Samson back then. Bruce Dickinson was their singer, so I got to meet Bruce fairly early on as well.”

This conflagration of heavy metal and punk rock, combining speed and all-out aggression, was sweeping across England, as Saxon’s compatriots like Diamond Head, Budgie, Angel Witch, Girlschool, Motorhead, Tygers of Pan Tang and, of course, Iron Maiden blew the doors off the entire country.

“There was definitely a massive change in the size of audiences that had interest in the band,” says Byford. “I really think the magazines were a bit fed up with this punk thing. I just think they wanted something new to write about. And we were in the right place at the right time with some great songs.”

Humility aside, Saxon posted four albums in the U.K. Top 10 in the 1980s and had numerous Top 20 singles there and in Japan, at least in part, because of their insane work ethic. Striking while the iron was as hot as it could ever be, Saxon took whatever studio time they could get when they weren’t on the road. While Wheels of Steel was still going strong, Saxon released perhaps its finest recording, Strong Arm of the Law, which featured the title track and “Dallas 1 p.m.,” a song about John F. Kennedy.

“We were just very, very sort of inspired really,” says Byford. “We were just writing the first things that came into our heads. You know, they were great really. We had to work on the songs and get them sounding great – you know, with the arrangements. But generally, we’d have an idea and carry on with it and it worked out to be a fantastic idea – like ‘Dallas 1 p.m.,’ you know, I just sat down and wrote it. I said to the guys, ‘I’ve got this idea about writing a song about the Kennedy assassination and about when he was younger.’ And they were like, ‘Yeah.’ And we had this riff flying around, and we put the two together and it worked fantastically. So, I think that song probably took about two hours, from the original idea to the finished song.”

Not every song came together as fast as that one for Saxon, but with their touring schedule having expanded worldwide, having a hit in Japan with “Motorcycle Man,” there was less and less time for recording. Saxon didn’t mind the work.

“We’d actually not been out of the country before 1980, and most of us had never been on a plane,” says Byford.

Though they were spending more time on the road and in the air, Saxon didn’t do much songwriting away from the studio.

“Not many. Not many. I think we probably wrote ‘Princess of the Night’ on the road,” says Byford. “I can’t really remember many that we wrote. I got a lot of ideas for lyrics on the road, but I can’t remember writing one song on the road really. The guitarist might try something at sound check, and it would come out way too long, but generally, we just went into the room on Day 1 and started writing the album.”

Saxon - Denim and Leather 2013
With an ever-shrinking window to record, Saxon banged out another seminal record in 1981 with the fan favorite Denim and Leather, the title track of which has been a rallying cry for many metal fans ever since then. “Princess of the Night” was on Denim and Leather, and it was one of the band’s most successful singles, but in the aftermath, Saxon’s united front started to crack, as Gill departed and was replaced by Nigel Glockler for an upcoming tour.

Still formidable, Saxon kept their foot on the gas, releasing one of metal’s greatest live albums in The Eagle Has Landed. They were headlining tours of their own and supporting superstars like Ozzy Osbourne. And they brought down the house at 1982’s Monsters of Rock Festival. The tide, however, was turning ever so slowly against Saxon, as the glam-metal outbreak spread and NWOBHM started to fade.

Despite it all, Saxon released Power & the Glory in 1983, and it surpassed their previous best in sales. What nobody knew then was that Saxon was about to undergo earthshaking changes.

‘Crusader’ for truth
1984 saw Saxon sign with EMI Records, and they kicked off their relationship with a new album in Crusader, a record that critics found a bit commercial but Byford never saw it that way. And the title track is still beloved by fans.

“It was a song [written] from the point of view of a young lad watching the soldiers go off to war,” says Byford. “And yeah, it’s just a historic song, and other people have all sorts of different interpretations, but it’s just a history song, like ‘Dallas 1 p.m.’ or ‘Made in Belfast.’”

There would be other new releases in the ‘80s, including 1985’s Innocence is No Excuse and 1986’s Rock the Nations, although they lost Dawson in the process. Paul Johnson was hired as Dawson’s replacement, but Saxon was growing weary of touring. In 1988, they released the commercial disappointment Destiny, and EMI dropped the band.

Not willing to give up the ghost, Saxon continued on into the ‘90s, signing with Virgin Records. But after recording Dogs of War in 1994, Oliver was dismissed for trying to sell recording of Saxon’s 1980 Donnington performance without the permission of the rest of the band. To this day, Oliver and Dawson haven’t been welcomed back to Saxon, although Byford has left the door open for reconciliation.
“I mean, never say never – we’ll see how it goes really,” says Byford.

These days, Saxon’s lineup includes Byford, Quinn, Glockler, Scarratt and Nibbs Carter, who replaced Johnson way back in 1988. And this version of the band has been on an incredible roll, with each succeeding album since The Inner Sanctum receiving ever-increasing critical acclaim. Sacrifice might be the best of the lot, and it’s going to give the Saxon fans in Metallica and Megadeth reason to up their game.

“I think those guys were really into the old attitude and concept of our albums then,” says Byford. “They were very sort of … no particular style, just great songs played full bore – you know, no holding back. So I think that’s what those bands from the U.S. sort of liked about us, that metal/punk sort of stuff. So, yeah, definitely – and I’m sure a lot of them will like two or three songs of this album.”

Odds are, they will.

CD/DVD Review: Motorhead - The World is Ours - Vol. 2 - Anyplace Crazy as Anywhere Else


Motorhead – The World is Ours – Vol. 2 – Anyplace Crazy as Anywhere Else
UDR/Motorhead Music/EMI Label Services
All Access Rating: A
Motorhead - The World is Ours - Vol. 2 -
Anyplace Crazy as Anywhere Else
Even if speed limits had been posted throughout No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith, one of the most lethal live LPs ever recorded, Motorhead undoubtedly would have disregarded them all. Onstage, these rock ‘n’ roll renegades were above the law, as nobody could even hope to approach their velocity or intensity, and that amphetamine-fueled joyride through a clutch of classic songs from the legendary studio albums Overkill, Bomber, and Ace of Spades was as reckless and dangerous as a police chase.
Only one drawback: the quality of that recording, though fine for its day, is not exactly up to snuff, especially when compared to the pristine, high-definition sound and the vivid, colorful visuals of the recently released two CD/DVD/Blue-ray combo The World is Ours – Vol. 2 – Anyplace Crazy as Anywhere Else, out on the boutique label UDR. The second in a series of amazing concert audio and video packages from an older, but no less ruthless, Motorhead, this furious, barnstorming set gives a full accounting of the band’s summer of 2011 performance at the Wacken Open Air Festival in Germany, plus a smattering of six smoldering tracks culled from their Sonisphere Festival gig that year and five more red-hot sonic embers left over from their Rock in Rio performance.
Dirty, desperate and shockingly loud, Motorhead’s classic lineup of Lemmy Kilmister, “Fast” Eddie Clarke and Phil “Philthy Animal” Taylor didn’t let up on the accelerator during No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith, and with their well-earned reputation as vice-ridden outlaws preceding them, that combination of balls-to-the-wall heavy metal and general nastiness certainly appealed to those who thumbed their noses at conventional morality. While not quite so fearsome anymore, the Motorhead of today, together for 20 years and featuring Philip Campbell blazing away on guitar and Mikkey Dee’s muscular, clockwork drumming, could certainly give the old masters a run for their money, as any of the full-throttle, high-energy versions of “Iron Fist,” “Ace of Spades,” “I Know How to Die,” “Going to Brazil,” “Overkill” and “Over the Top” contained on The World is Ours – Vol. 2 will attest – each song appearing multiple times. Some are rowdier takes than the rest, while others are most explosive or gritty, but all of them are performed with verve and snarling aggression.
As mean as ever, Motorhead hasn’t lost any of their sinful swagger. Thick and heavy, “The Chase is Better Than the Catch,” “In the Name of Tragedy,” and “Killed By Death” swing by the neck like condemned men at the gallows, each guitar stroke tumescent and filled with bad intent. And what’s great about Motorhead is that when they announce they’ll be playing a new song from their latest album, like the frenzied “Rock Out” or the crunchy, quaking “The Thousand Names of God,” nobody dares to go running for the concession stand, because they’re just as powerful and compelling as any of the so-called hits. Campbell, in particular, shows his versatility on “The Thousand Names of God” – his menacing riffs are pure evil and his solos are searing, while Dee puts on a drum solo exhibition later that is a monstrous mix of power and precision. And Lemmy … well, Lemmy is Lemmy, his gruff, growling voice so exquisitely ravaged by time and booze, and oh so satisfying, while his brawling, violent bass playing is just as glorious as it was in Motorhead's salad days.
There are so many reasons to love The World is Ours – Vol. 2 – Anyplace Crazy as Anywhere Else, from the knock-down-drag-out performances of a band’s that’s lost none of its potency, to the vibrant concert footage edited for optimum excitement and impactful audio that adds more sonic punch to the mix than is absolutely necessary – although it certainly is appreciated. Loved by punks and metalheads alike, Motorhead still plays hard-hitting rock ‘n’ roll at a time when hard-rock could use a defibrillator. Though they'll never welcome in respectable society, Lemmy and his band of merry mischief-makers are just the men to bring it back to life.
-            Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: Saxon - Heavy Metal Thunder - The Movie


DVD Review: Saxon - Heavy Metal Thunder – The Movie
IDR/Militia Records/EMI
All Access Rating: A
Saxon - Heavy Metal Thunder - The Movie 2012
Chosen to support Motorhead on the “Bomber” tour in 1979, Saxon seemed a perfect fit and yet there was something different about them that confounded Lemmy. Being the charitable sort, Lemmy – is there really any need to list his last name anymore? – offered them some of his vodka and samples of whatever drugs he had available, as former Saxon bassist Steve “Dobby” Dawson remembers it, readily admitting that the alcohol made him sick. Saxon actually didn’t seem to want any of it, and that made Lemmy … well, not sad, but a bit baffled. They were a heavy metal band, after all. What part of sex, drugs and rock and roll didn’t they understand?
Shaking his head and having a good laugh about the whole thing now in the long-awaited 2012 Saxon two-disc documentary “Heavy Metal Thunder – The Movie,” Lemmy still finds it amusing that they were more interested in drinking tea than downing bottles of booze. As a matter of fact, Saxon demanded crates of English tea when they New Wave of British Heavy Metal horsemen set out to conquer America for the first time, believing that they couldn’t find the good stuff in the U.S. That’s what kept Saxon up at night – the ability to find quality tea … and lots of it. Not exactly the stuff of a “Behind the Music” special, is it?
In the beginning, Saxon was one for all and all for one, a band of brothers that busted out of the mining and industrial wasteland of South Yorkshire with modest dreams of heavy-metal glory. Informed by the punk movement and the harsh, dirty noise of industry and machines, Saxon’s sound couldn’t have been less pretentious. Devoid of artifice, the hard-nosed, hot-wired guitars of Paul Quinn and Graham Oliver could sear flesh, and Steve “Dobby” Dawson’s bass rumbled like a Hell’s Angels’ chopper, while the drums – first ably played by David Ward, and then bashed into powder by former Gary Glitter drummer Pete Gill – pumped furiously like pistons. Driving this thundering vehicle, Biff Byford, a lanky, long-haired showman with the voice of a metal god, always has been the heart and soul of Saxon, as well as its most compelling character. They were, and still are, a working-class band, albeit with a lineup that's somewhat different now, and their lyrics often sympathized with the plight of blue-collar England, which at the time was embroiled in vicious labor disputes with the mother of all union busters, Margaret Thatcher – all of these elements are trumpeted in “Heavy Metal Thunder – The Movie,” an account of Saxon’s history that bares everything.   
Against this backdrop of economic depression and rusted-out factories, Saxon’s story played out, taking interesting twists and turns, their struggle mirroring that of Black Sabbath and other NWOBHM legends. With the kind of honesty and integrity that characterized Saxon’s music, “Heavy Metal Thunder – The Movie” tells a heroic tale of perseverance and substance over flash. Full of wicked old war stories, as told by the members of Saxon, this documentary traces the Saxon story all the way back to when they were called Son of a Bitch. Despite the dated production values, this no-frills film – supplemented with amazingly rare and vital live footage from various points in Saxon’s history, including great stuff from that infamous “Bomber” tour with Motorhead – travels back to that rough-and-tumble English rock club circuit the band played when that fire that burned in their bellies was all that got them through poverty and dashed hopes. They toured on a shoestring budget, taking liberties with groupies in a cramped van containing their gear and no privacy. They fervently dreamed of securing a record contract, and when they did, it was with French label Carrere Records, a deal that would leave them penniless. Details about how their famous logo was developed and how the cover of their debut album was created are revisited in the film, and when Saxon’s machinery finally started churning out the records they were born to make, like Strong Arm of the Law, Wheels of Steel and Denim and Leather – these powerhouse, chrome-plated albums of tough, smoking riffs, workhorse rhythms and gritty, uncompromising hooks – “Heavy Metal Thunder – The Movie” traces the band’s steady progression to the top of British rock heap with admiration.
Of course, there’s the inevitable decline, the clueless producers who tamed Saxon’s mighty roar, Dawson’s cocaine use and the fierce battles with Byford that led to his messy departure, and insight into the hard feelings that persist between past and present members – all of whom talk candidly and passionately about these matters and about this thing they started. “Heavy Metal Thunder – The Movie” would go nowhere without these conversations, and the editing strikes a not-so-easy balance between shaping loads of content into something entertaining while at the same time trying to manage a flood of Saxon-specific information. The result is an engrossing and comprehensive biography, essential viewing for anybody with even a passing interest in Saxon.
And there’s more on a second disc comprised of behind-the-scenes material, stirring live footage, in-studio scenes, various tributes from other rockers, humorous exchanges between Biff and Lemmy – much of it stemming from a recent Saxon tour with Motorhead – and a full-length concert from 2008. Then there’s the vintage video of a tight and energetic Saxon killing it in a raucous 1981 “Beat Club”performance as they charge through “Motorcycle Man,” “Hungry Years,” “Strong Arm of the Law,” “747” and a host of other favorites. It’s an immersive Saxon experience, packaged as unassailable testimony to their grossly underappreciated greatness. Stuffed to the gills with loads of fantastic Saxon material, this whole set is an absolute must-have for Saxon fans. Tea is not included, however.
-            Peter Lindblad

'You've got the gig': Motorhead 1976-1982


‘Fast’ Eddie Clarke looks back on his time in the band
By Peter Lindblad
[Ed. note - Please forgive the lack of umlaut]

The classic Motorhead lineup
Accustomed to sleeping in and not receiving unexpected visitors in the morning, as is the way with most rock and roll artists who do not subscribe to the “early to bed, early to rise” ethos, “Fast” Eddie Clarke had no intention of getting dressed to see who was calling on him at such an ungodly hour.
One Saturday well before noon in the winter of 1976, the guitarist, irritable and cranky, got up to see who had disturbed his rest. Had he known who was waiting for him on the other side, his mood would have brightened considerably.
“There’s a knock at my door, and I say, ‘What the f**k is this?’” recalls Clarke. “And so I go to the front door, and Lemmy [Kilmister] is standing there, and he’s got a bullet belt in one hand and a leather jacket in the other. And he hands them to me and he says, ‘You’ve got the gig.’”
Clarke was as surprised as anybody to hear those words come out of Lemmy’s mutton-chop framed mouth. Just like that, he’d been hired to play alongside Larry Wallis as a second guitar slinger for Motorhead, then a dirty, brash wild bunch of rock and roll outlaws dead set on building the fastest, loudest chopper of grimy, rumbling, vice-ridden proto-thrash metal nastiness that anyone had ever seen, and nobody would dare categorize it as street-legal. Before Clarke could recover from the shock, however, Lemmy was gone.
“And then he turns around and walks off (laughs),” said Clarke. “So I’m standing there in me underpants holding a bullet belt with this leather jacket, and I just say, ‘Oh, f**king great!’ I mean, I really was over the moon."
A week earlier, Clarke’s mood wasn’t so elevated. His audition for these holy sonic terrors had ended rather unceremoniously with him slipping out the door before things got worse.
“I did the audition with them,” remembers Clarke. “And Larry came down, because Larry, who was in the Pink Fairies, was the guitarist then. And he wasn’t getting on with anybody. He didn’t even talk to me. He just came in, plugged in and played the same song for half an hour. And I said, ‘Oh, bloody hell. I haven’t got this gig, have I?’ And he and Lemmy went outside and they were having words, and it’s all getting a bit tense. So I packed up me guitar and I went home, and I left Phil [“Philthy Animal” Taylor, the band’s drummer] and them there to play on. I paid the bill on the way out, though (laughs) for the rehearsal. And then I didn’t hear anything.”
That is until Lemmy showed up on his doorstep. Soon after, Wallis would leave, having rejoined a reunited Pink Fairies lineup that intended to get back to touring. All that remained then was Lemmy, “Fast” Eddie and “Philthy Animal” – the classic Motorhead lineup that would shake the earth from 1977 through 1982 with rumbling, fire-breathing touchstone LPs Motorhead (1977), Overkill (1979), Bomber (1979), Ace of Spades (1980), No Sleep ‘til Hammersmith (1981, a live album that reached #1 on the U.K. album charts) and Iron Fist (1982), the threesome’s swan song.
“Those were great days, man. They were great. I mean, there were some tough times, obviously. Motorhead was a special time for me. I mean, we were like brothers. We went through so much shit together,” said Clarke.
As siblings often do, the three had their differences, and in 1982, as Motorhead was touring America, simmering tensions bubbled over and Clarke was dismissed. Shell-shocked by the turn of events, Clarke took the first plane back to England. Back on his native soil, the exiled Clarke, still reeling from his abrupt firing, attempted to regroup, even as a growing substance abuse problem was threatening to consume him. Unbeknownst to Clarke, his next project was waiting for him at – of all places – Motorhead’s office, and it would yield an under-the-radar classic heavy metal album, Fastway’s self-titled debut.
Still, although Clarke would later experience a rollercoaster ride of emotions with Fastway, it was nothing compared to what awaited him as a member of one of the most notorious acts in metal history, Motorhead.
Life Before Motorhead
A child of the 1950s, Clarke was born in Twickenham, London to a family that immersed itself in music and did what it could to see that Clarke took an interest in it.
“My parents played a lot of music,” said Clarke. “I was lucky because they played all the old 45s they used to get, but my sister also, she was playing things like ‘Cathy’s Clown’ and Paul Anka’s ‘Diana.’ And my parents were playing a lot of the MGM stuff. So they were quite musical. There was always music going on, even though I wasn’t particularly involved in it. My dad did take me out when I was about eight or 10, he took me down to the little record shop down here, and he said, ‘Right, pick yourself out a tune.’ So the guy in the record shop played some singles, and the one I picked was Jerry Keller, ‘Here Comes Summer.’ I remember that, going back to the ‘50s.”
Near where Clarke grew up, the musical scene of the West London area exploded with vibrant creativity and an adventurous, hedonistic spirit in the 1960s.
“As I got older, living where I was in west London, well, of course, we had the Rolling Stones kicking off here up the road,” recalled Clarke. “We had Eel Pie Island just down the road here, where John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers were playing and Pink Floyd played there. Then the Cream started up over here and Fleetwood Mac – all going on in this area. So I got to walk out the door and there was a gig to go to. And I think that helped a lot. You know, I was on the front door of it all, and of course, when I realized how much people liked that, I thought, ‘Well, I’d fancy doing that.’ And I got really heavily into Eric Clapton when he was with the Yardbirds, and we used to go to the Rolling Stones, but we’re going back a few years now (laughs). That’s going back to ’63 or ’64. And the Yardbirds, of course … Eric Clapton is playing his Telecaster up there, and all this great stuff like ‘Smokestack Lightning’ and all these great blues, and I loved them to bits. And so of course, I wanted to play like that, so I started learning those tunes.”
Through the prism of the British blues boom of the ‘60s, Clarke got an education in American blues. “I was actually learning American blues tunes, but I was learning them third-hand, because they liked to copy the guys in America and I was copying them. So I was kind of like the third generation, and I had my own take on it, which I think gave me my  … I like to think I had a little bit of my own style, and I developed out of that.”
A quick study, Clarke cycled through various local bands – the Bitter End being one of them – by the age of 15. The neighbors were not so accepting of Clarke’s musical escapades.
“I was very fortunate, and then of course, there was a little band at school … we had a little band together,” said Clarke. “We used to play in me dad’s garage, and all the neighbors used to throw stones on the roof to get us to shut up (laughs). But I loved the guitar. I used to get up in the morning before I went to school, and the first thing I’d do is get clean out of bed, put my feet on the floor, and grab the guitar and have a quick five minutes on the guitar.”
Clarke’s development allowed him a chance to turn professional with Curtis Knight’s band, Zeus. As lead guitarist, Clarke helped Zeus record the album The Second Coming at Olympic Studios. He even wrote the music that backed Knight’s lyrics on a song called “The Confession” and continued on with Zeus through the making of Sea of Time. But then, Clarke got together Allan Callan, a guitarist friend of his, and keyboardist Nicky Hogarth and drummer Chris Perry for a jam session at Command Studios in Piccadilly that resulted in a record contract with Anchor Records. Calling themselves Blue Goose, Clarke, Hogarth and Perry abandoned Zeus, and Knight, to concentrate on their new project. It wouldn’t last.
Arguments erupted and Clarke left Blue Goose, going on to form another band called Continuous Performance that went nowhere and another act with Hogarth, bassist Tony Cussons and drummer Terry Slater that also flamed out. Frustrated by what seemed like a stalled career, Clarke went to work re-fitting a houseboat as he attempted to get his solo career off the ground.
“I was working and I was doing my solo album,” said Clarke. “I was working building a houseboat on the river Thames. And the money I was earning I was putting into my solo album, to record my solo album.”
Through various jobs, he had gained other skills, some of which would make him a more attractive candidate for hire than simply his guitar-playing ability.
“The reason why I started working was I had to get an amplifier became my little one use to blow up all the time,” said Clarke. “And I used to stick a screwdriver in the back and go bang! And then it would start working again. So I went to get this job fixing televisions. And the guy said, ‘Why do you want this job?’ I said, ‘We’ll, I’ve got this amplifier that keeps blowing up and I need a new one,’ and being in Motorhead, we didn’t have any money for repairs. Well, I’ll tell you, it did come in handy. It did come in handy. It helped me to no end. So, it was a great career move at the time. I didn’t realize what a great career move it was, but later on in life, it turned out to be a winner, you know.”
So was the gig working on that houseboat, through which he made a contact that would lead him to Motorhead. It was Phil Taylor.

Getting Stiffed
Lemmy, having played in Hawkwind, was certainly well-known around the haunts Clarke used to frequent. He remembers seeing Lemmy once at a party before the days of Motorhead, though Clarke didn’t get an introduction.
“So, he came in. Nobody spoke to him,” said Clarke. “But he plugged in and started playing … and I thought that he was playing rhythm guitar. I thought, ‘Oh, he keeps it together well,’ because he keeps the songs up, where other bassists are just jamming. And then I started to [see him] a little bit about, because where we started hanging out, Lemmy was always around. He’s one of these guys who’s always around. He was always around the scene, you know.”
But, it was Taylor who first made contact with Clarke.
“What happened was, I met Phil first,” recounted Clarke. “And I met Phil and Phil had gotten into Motorhead. And then Phil contacted me, and he said, ‘Look, we’re looking for a second guitarist. Would you fancy it?’ I said, ‘Yeah,’ because I wasn’t doing anything. I was working and I was doing my solo album. So, I said, ‘Yeah, fine.’ And I didn’t hear any more from Phil.”
Communication having broken down between him and Taylor, Clarke kept plugging away at finishing up the houseboat, while also taking in some of the local nightlife.
Lemmy Kilmister, Phil Taylor and 'Fast' Eddie Clarke
“Quite by chance, I picked up this bird at [this place] called the Greyhound in Fulham,” said Clarke. “It was a real big gig back in the ‘70s. I picked up this bird there, and she stayed over with me that night. And I brought her to work the next day, and she happened to work at the rehearsal room in the King’s Road in Chelsea. So I took her to work that morning. It was 11 o’clock. She had to open the doors. And who walks in? Lemmy (laughs). I said, ‘Hey, Lemmy. I’m supposed to be auditioning for your band.’ He said, ‘Oh, are you?’ I said, ‘Yeah, yeah Lemmy.’ And he said, ‘Oh, yeah, yeah.’ So I said, ‘Well, can I put it together?’ And it all seemed to come together. He said, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ So, he gave me his number, and I had to organize the rehearsals. I had to pay for them, because they didn’t have any money. And I had a car, so I went and picked them up, put all their gear in the car and then dropped it off and went back to get the rest of the gear. So that was the first time I ever really had a chat with Lemmy. He seemed fine. He was one of these guys who, because he liked a bit of speed, wouldn’t sleep much. He was always on the go. Not to put too fine a point on it, and of course, I became a speed freak as well after that. He was already a speed freak. So we were speed freaks together.”
Before the sharing of drugs commenced, however, there was the little matter of Clarke’s audition. Having passed the test, Clarke soon took over as sole guitarist for Motorhead, with Wallis quitting. What Clarke wasn’t prepared for was the struggle that lay ahead.
“It was like that, it was like that, because nobody liked us,” said Clarke. “Of course, we were all wearing bullet belts and a lot of Hell’s Angels used to come to our shows. People were generally a bit scared of us. They never knew what was going to happen, you know. Although we were fine, everything was fine, but people conceived us as being … and they didn’t like our music either, because they didn’t conceive it as music. It wasn’t considered music. It hadn’t happened yet. We were sort of breaking new ground with this (makes loud guitar-like noise) and so people were actually working against us all the time. And it was difficult the first year, but the thing was solid, man. The plans were there. We’d turn up in Shitsville, Birmingham or wherever, and there’d be 30 kids there, but they were diehard fans. And Lemmy said to me, ‘Don’t worry, man. Those kids are going to go away and the next time, they’re going to bring their mates with them. The next time there’ll be 60.’”
Kilmister’s confidence was a calming influence on Clarke, whose patience was tested by the band’s poverty and a troublesome incident with Stiff Records after recording the single “Leaving Here” in December, 1976 for the label.
“Lemmy kept us all going on that, and it was true,” said Clarke. “We had quite a following in a year. But then we had this deal with Stiff Records, and we did a recording for Stiff. We didn’t have any money, so we borrowed the money and we got into all sorts of trouble, and then Stiff Records didn’t put the f**king record out. They said we’re not putting the record out because we want to put it on this Stiff compilation, which f**king finished us. We were f**king done. We were relying on that to give us a bit of a profile and get us some shows, ‘cause we didn’t have a pot to piss in. We were living off porridge and pancakes. It was one of them. And so, Stiff Records really f**ked us over. I f**king hate that label – we all, the three of us do. It was supposed to be an independent label, and sh*tsville. They really did bad by us.”
‘ … On Our Way’
“We are Motorhead … and we play rock and roll!” growls Lemmy, the way he usually does when introducing a Motorhead show. In 1976, Motorhead wasn’t playing rock and roll for very many people, and the sparsely attended gigs were demoralizing to Clarke and Taylor. In fact, it got so bad that breaking up the band seemed the only logical option.
“We were on the verge of breaking up, and we had more gig to do,” said Clarke. “It was the Marquee, and Phil said, if nobody turns up, we might as well break up after this gig. And I said, ‘Shove off.’ And he said, ‘Well, what’s the point of going on?’ I said, ‘What are you going to do anyway?’ (laughs) It wasn’t as if we had anything else to do, you know what I mean. Phil was adamant, though.”
If this was to be the end for Motorhead, they wanted to go out in a blaze of glory and record this final sendoff for posterity. “So what we tried to do was, we tried to get a mobile (recording studio) down to the Marquee,” said Clarke. “Well, it turned out, the Marquee had a recording studio linked up to the gig and they said they would do it, but it would cost … I don’t know, a thousand pounds or something, which was like the f**king king’s ransom. So Lemmy knew this guy, Ted Carroll, from Chiswick Records. He said, ‘Look, how about recording the band at the Marquee, ‘cause we’re thinking of breaking up. It’d be nice to have something to remember us by.’ And he said, ‘I can’t do that. It’s too expensive,’ because nobody had any money in the ‘70s. Those were poor times. He said, ‘But, I’ll pay for you to do a single.’”
That offer turned out to be a stay of execution of sorts.
“So after the f**king Marquee gig, we got Speedy Keen from Thunderclap Newman. He was going to produce it. He drove us down to this studio in Kent (Escape Studios), with a budget to do it … we had two days in there,” said Clarke. “And I said to the guy – ‘cause I’d done some stuff with Curtis Knight, and we’d done an album in 24 hours – ‘Look, we can do an album in this time.’ I said … ‘cause I noticed when we’d done stuff back at the pub, we’d only have to play it once. And they all go, ‘Okay, okay.’ So we laid all the backing tracks down, and then we did all the guitars and the vocals … you know, we had 24 hours and we had the whole thing down.”
When Carroll visited Motorhead to get a listen to what was supposed to be a single, Clarke and company presented all that they had done – 11 raw, unfinished tracks of cyclonic rock and roll fury, to be augmented later by two more cuts. “So when the record guy came over to hear it, we said well, we’ve got a bit more than a single,” said Clarke. “We’ve got an album. And of course, he said, ‘Wow!’ And when we played it to him, he loved it. He loved it. That was the first album, the black one [1977’s Motorhead]. And he loved it, this guy loved it. He was over the moon. And then of course, he put in a bit more money. We remixed a couple of tracks in Olympic Studios, and then we were on our way. We were on our way. There were some things that were to happen later on that would almost sidetrack us, but that’s what saved us from breaking up.”
Any thoughts of throwing in the towel were now erased completely from their minds. “It was a great thing, because we had nothing better to do … nothing” said Clarke. “And we really worked hard at it. People had pissed on us so much that we were like, ‘Well, f**k ‘em. We’ll show ‘em. We’re not going to die. We’re going to stay here and dig in.’ You’ve got to get that kind of mentality going, that sort of siege mentality.”
Clarke wasn’t the sort to throw up his hands and walk away. His background as a laborer would suggest he’d stay until the job was done. And as it turned out, Clarke was the perfect fit for Motorhead for that reason and many others. One was his look; the other was his take-charge attitude.
“Well, I had long hair and tight trousers and boots,” said Clarke, talking about the clothes he wore before joining Motorhead. “I used to wear boots and all that. But the leather jacket always eluded me. I never had enough money to buy one. And the bullet belt was a new thing for me. I didn’t know anything about the bullet belt. But I wasn’t a pansy. I was a pretty tough guy anyway, so the clothes were helpful. I think Phil had already assessed that, that I would fit in, because I was running things with this boat we were building. I was running the show. So, of course, I had to tell people what to do and people got a bit short with me. I had to deal with them, you know. And I think Phil thought that was something that would be good … I wasn’t a pansy, you know.”
The word “pansy” is not one that comes to mind when describing anybody in Motorhead. Still, there were cracks in their sneering veneer that implied a weakening of the bonds between them. After the untamed and savage Motorhead LP shot up to #43 on the U.K. charts, the band toured with Hawkwind, before embarking on the “Beyond the Threshold of Pain” tour with the Count Bishops. At home, management issues would rear up, with Tony Secunda taking over the reins. Meanwhile, as turmoil swirled within Motorhead, Clarke and Taylor branched off and formed The Muggers with Keen and Billy Rath.
Nobody was playing taps for Motorhead, though. In the summer of 1978, the band changed management again, opting to return to Douglas Smith. It was Smith who brokered a singles deal with Bronze Records that would lead to Motorhead recording “Louie, Louie.” The track charted at #68 in the U.K., giving them more momentum. In fact, it lead to their initial performance on the “Top of the Pops” TV show in England, the first of many.
“Well, we did that seven times,” said Clarke, who was not exactly comfortable doing the program. “We became the BBC’s pet band. Yeah, we were always on ‘Top of the Pops.’ Never sold any records, though, because of it, but we were always on ‘Top of the Pops.’ I think it’s because they liked to show that they could have a moody, ‘out there’ band, you know, to get a bit of credibility. What do you do? So, yeah, we did it. I mean, ‘Top of the Pops’ is the worst show. I mean, however much I drank, I could never do it without feeling like a complete prick. You stand there, and there’s an audience, and you’re miming it, and you’re thinking, ‘God, I’m f**king miming this.’ – yeah, really difficult stuff. I hated all that, you know. Lem and Phil didn’t mind so much, ‘cause Lemmy’s a real showman. I don’t care about all that, but I used to love Lemmy for that.”
Emboldened by the success of “Louie, Louie,” Bronze gave Motorhead a little more rope, extending their deal so that the band could record an album at Bronze’s studios. As Motorhead is wont to do, they left their mark there and they fought like brothers while doing so.
“Well, Overkill was our first time in a proper studio with an album deal,” said Clarke. “And we had a studio, Bronze Studios in London, and we were like, ‘Oh.’ And of course, we were just trying to get our band sounding great. We had a few bashes there. One of the bashes we had was we were so f**king drunk that Phil got sick on the ceiling – in the corridor. It was quite funny. You had these little couple of steps you had to go down, and when you went in the door, you went up again. Well, he managed to throw up and it hit the ceiling (laughs). We did have some fun. We had a few fights, me and Phil. We had our differences. We had our moments. But it was just that thing when we played Overkill, man, you know on the big speakers, with the double bass drums … I mean nobody had really done that then, not in that way. That’s why we did three endings. We did it with three endings, you know. I said, ‘Hey, let’s f**king do three endings here,’ you know. ‘We can’t do that.’ I said, ‘Why not? We’re Motorhead. We can do anything.’ And we did, and it was brilliant.”
With help from producer Jimmy Miller – whose resume had included the Rolling Stones’ Beggars Banquet, Let it Bleed, Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main Street and Goats Head Soup LPs – Motorhead birthed the explosive, unrelenting Overkill, the first Motorhead LP to rocket into the U.K. Top 40 album chart and what many consider the band’s finest hour. In anticipation of the record’s release, the group … well, they mimed the flying-at-unsafe-speeds single “Overkill” on “Top of the Pops.” Those were heady days, indeed, for Motorhead.
“See that was finished in the beginning of ’79,” recalls Clarke, “because we started it in the end of ’78, end of Christmas. And then we did the show at Hammersmith November the fifth. That was also a great time, that Hammersmith Odeon [performance]. That’s like Mecca, do you know what I mean? And it was fantastic making it there. And then we did Overkill. And then straight after that … that was ’79, the beginning of ’79, we toured with Overkill, with the Girlschool thing and all that, and did some gigs in France and all that. But the record company wanted another album by the end of the summer.”
The beast had to be fed, after all. More food would be thrown down its gullet in the form of Bomber, Overkill’s hastily thrown together follow-up. Luckily, Motorhead was a well-oiled machine at this point, and with the threesome on fire in the studio, Bomber, when released, dropped a devastating payload of thermonuclear proto-speed metal on a world that had already been blown away by Overkill. Few bands have ever had a hot streak like the one Motorhead was on.
“For once, we sat down and we went into the rehearsal studio, and came out about a week later and said we’ve got all the tunes,” said Clarke. “It was brilliant man. Things like ‘Stone Dead Forever’ … I mean fantastic. So that has another thing going for it. It was just there. It was right in front of us and we just grabbed it – just fantastic.
Last bombing run
Ask Clarke to choose which album he favors, and he’ll answer with a shrug of the shoulders.
Bomber and Overkill are my favorites,” said Clarke. “I don’t know. Between the two, I’m not sure which one. I mean, there are some fabulous tracks on Bomber. Don’t get me wrong, Ace of Spades is … well, Ace of Spades is Ace of Spades. But, you know, I’m looking for something else, because that was kind of a hit record. I mean, Overkill had that … it was one of those that was just blown out. And so was Bomber. I have difficulty choosing between the two of them. They were my two favorite albums.”
And that period of the band’s history – including, of course, the Ace of Spades album – is considered by many as Motorhead’s golden age. In live settings, Motorhead took no prisoners, thrilling audiences with visceral, explosive performances and a bit of theatricality.
“The fans definitely did take to it, ‘cause the bomber … we put the bomber up in the truck, the lighting truck, the bomber came down,” said Clarke. “So, of course, the kids really appreciated that. It really was picking up speed now. It was actually on a chain hoist that would come up and down and it looked fantastic. It was an old World War II bomber, you know, come right down and touch the top of our heads and then it would go back up, and it just looked fantastic. And the kids just couldn’t believe it. I mean, the kids loved it.”
Not everyone was convinced of Motorhead’s brilliance, however. “Obviously, the critics were still telling us we were the worst band in the world, that we were f**king noisy,” said Clarke. “And if you’re a muso lover – you know what I mean – you won’t like Motorhead because we’re just so noisy and awful. But the fans loved it. But of course what happened was – it was really quite funny actually – when we did No Sleep ‘til Hammersmith, that same band that was titled ‘the worst band in the world’ … the same journalists, for the same paper said it was the best f**king live album ever. Now how is that possible when six months ago you were telling us that we were the worst band in the world? But it’s funny how people’s attitudes change, isn’t it?”
So it was within Motorhead as well. Where ideas flowed during the accelerated recording sessions of Overkill and Bomber, Clarke remembers Ace of Spades being a bit of a chore to complete.
“We were flowing,” said Clarke. “I mean we went from Overkill straight into Bomber, and we had the bomber itself, and it was just flying along. And then Ace of Spades just followed onto that. Ace of Spades was the first … well, it was the first time we had to think a little more. What we did were rehearsals. We did a sort of demo recording, an 8-track demo recording of the rehearsals. And then we worked on those, so more work had to go into the writing of that, whereas with the other ones, we just went in and banged it out. So that was the first sign that ideas were starting to get difficult, because you get a band like Motorhead, you don’t have many options. So it’s quite difficult coming up with new material all the time because you tend to be standing on your own toes. But we got through Ace of Spades, we got through it, and it was great. The “Ace of Spades” track just killed everybody, everything’s going great … it was just another step up the ladder. We did four Hammersmith Odeons, and it was f**king brilliant.”
Motorhead - Ace of Spades cover
Even the photography sessions – which can sometimes be tedious – for the cover of Ace of Spades were a blast. “Well, I loved it. We all loved it, because before that, we’d done the thing with Girlschool, the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre (EP), where we dressed up like Al Capone. You know, we had machine guns, and it was brilliant,” said Clarke. “And we loved that, because we were sort of in the groove then. Photo shoots are normally a horrible thing to do, like videos. When you’re playing another part, it’s actually great, so we were really ready for it. We got all our stuff, we were all grooming beards for a few days to get a bit of stubble, you’ve got the cape out like Clint Eastwood, you’ve got the tablecloth out, you know what I mean? And we really prepared for it, and it was quite lucky because we did it in a place in north London. And it’s a sand quarry. Fortunately, the sun was shining. It all came out rather well. A lot of people say, ‘Where did you do that?’ And they think it’s like New Mexico or something. No, we did it in the north of London. And they go, ‘You’re f**king joking.’ It was one of those. It really was.”
The good times would, however, come to an end. Iron Fist was a bit of step backward for the band, and Clarke was eventually left to fend for himself on the fateful North American tour that ended so abruptly for the guitarist. Clarke went back to England and eventually formed Fastway, which released its first album in decades earlier this year. 
Looking back on it all, he still feels great affection for Lemmy and fondly recalls the heady excitement of Motorhead’s success.
“Lemmy was my friend for a lot of the time, especially in the beginning,” said Clarke. “In the beginning, I remember he said to me once … we did the first couple of shows we ever did in ’76, and we had some bad reviews, and I was teed off a bit. And he said to me, ‘Look, man. You’re going to get a lot of this. You really just have to ignore them and carry on. I’ve had loads of them in my lifetime,’ he said. ‘You just have to ignore them and carry on, ‘cause people are going to write that shit.’ And that was the nice thing about working with Lem, because I was a bit of a greenhorn, so having Lemmy give me a few pointers here and there was quite helpful. It got you through the hard times when people are putting you down and you go and do a bad gig and you feel like hanging yourself, you know. Lemmy was always there.”
It’s hard to imagine a world without him … and Motorhead, of course.