Lemmy, the last interview: “After death I will return as a ghost”

Ian Fraser Kilmister he never interpreted rock’n’roll, he embodied it. For forty years, at the helm of the MotorheadLemmy transformed every concert into a declaration of sonic war and every record into a manifesto of resistance, demonstrating that volume, speed and coherence could become a form of ethics even before style. It wasn’t a character or a maskhe was simply himself, and embodying the spirit of rock and roll was not a pose, but a natural instinct. Today, December 28th, in tenth anniversary of his disappearance of the iconic Motörhead frontman, Rockol dedicates a special to Lemmy Kilmister with a celebratory “mixtape” (available at this link), to remember a figure who, even ten years after his death, continues to exert a concrete and tangible influence on rock music and imagery. Lemmy has been no longer with us since December 28, 2015, four days after turning 70 and just seventeen days after what would remain Motörhead’s last concert. 2025 also marks fifty years since the band’s birth, leaving a double anniversary to confirm that Lemmy may no longer be with us, but his legacy will live on forever. On this occasion, we take up what is remembered as Lemmy Kilmister’s latest interview.

It was registered on November 20, 2015 For ZDFa historic German public television broadcaster, just over a month before his death. It is a document that is striking today for its clarity, for the total absence of self-pity and for that unique blend of cynicism, irony and fatalism which has always characterized Lemmy’s philosophy. In the interview, Kilmister reflected on the longevity of Motörheadgiven up for dead by the press six months after their debut, and then going on to celebrate forty years of career. The chat also offered Lemmy the chance to reflect on your lifestylewhich he did not recommend to anyone, so he attributed his survival to sheer luck, and about deathaddressed with very dark humor. A few days before the interview for ZDF, on 13 November 2015 at the Bataclan theater in Paris, a tragedy occurred when a terrorist commando opened fire inside the concert hall and in various points of the French capital. In the chat, Lemmy then talks about the attacks and the consequent cancellation of the concert that Motörhead were supposed to hold at the Zénith in Paris on November 15th, as well as the disappearance of Würzelpseudonym of Michael Richard Burston, which occurred on July 9, 2011, and his friend and former bandmate Phil “Animal” Taylorwho passed away on 11 November 2015.

It is in this interview that Kilmister utters one of the most quoted phrases of his last public phase: the idea, said smilingly, that also after his death he could have “infested” other people’s concerts. A grotesque image, ironic and perfectly consistent with his way of being in the world. Or to never leave at all.

You were supposed to play in Paris the previous Sunday. How did you find out about the attacks?

While it was happening, it was being reported everywhere on TV. They filmed everything and the shots could still be heard. This is such a stupid thing.

What do you mean?

Those people are stupid. Stupid as hell. For what? Do they think killing innocent people is heroic? Assholes. Cowards.

Did it cross your mind that something like this could happen at a Motörhead concert?

Yes, certainly. I mean, we played at the Bataclan many times. It was a normal date for us in Paris. Luckily not that evening.

Was it immediately clear to you that you wouldn’t be playing that weekend?

I didn’t think they would let us. It was the next day, you understand. The attack came completely out of the blue during that concert.

Has this changed anything for you? Even in the way of going on stage today?

No. I would have played the next day too. If they stop you, then they’ve won. But they won’t beat me. I do what I have to do. If the police cancel the concert, there’s nothing I can do about it. But we didn’t cancel.

So you would have played and would continue to play anyway?

Yes. Fuck those people. Don’t like rock’n’roll? And I don’t like them.

Do you think we are more vulnerable today, or do you feel more vulnerable?

We have always been vulnerable. Every day you leave your house you are vulnerable. You can end up under a bus, someone can smash your head in to steal your money. Nothing is certain. Everyone is obsessed with security. But nothing is certain! Nothing.
Maybe today everything is fine. Not tomorrow.

The French president is now talking about war.

We need to understand his point of view. He mentioned Pearl Harbor, he talked about the capital. They were the ones who declared war on him, not the other way around.

In the lyrics of your songs, war is one of the central themes. Would you describe this situation as a war?

It’s hard to think of another definition. A group of guys walking around the capital with automatic weapons kills 137 people. What do you call it? It is certainly not brotherhood, nor legality.

Last week you also lost a former band member.

Yes. It’s the second one. The first was Würzel, then Phil. In a way it feels like my whole life is going away, you know. It’s not really like that, but that’s the feeling.
Phil was a real character, a real madman. And I really admire this thing in a person. But I think he had lost the will to live. He was taking the wrong drugs and hanging out with the wrong people. Eventually the bill arrives.

Would you say that you have always used “the right drugs”?

No. But, you know, it was too much for him, for his body. I have survived so far because, more or less, I invented that lifestyle.

This is your fortieth year with Motörhead. Did you ever think you’d get this far?

No. When you start a band you don’t think about these things. You just want to play with others and see what happens. Look a year ahead. Forty years is a joke. It’s ridiculous. I have no idea what I should do now.

If you had known it would last this long, would you have kept the same name?

Yes, Motörhead is great. It’s a nice name. The best band names are one word. The Who is the best name ever, in my opinion.

When I was little I thought you were Scandinavian because of that letter “ö”.

Yes, I had also been to Germany.

Did you just use it as a joke?

No, I used it because it looked bad. There was a band before us, Blue Öyster Cult, they used it too.

Did she seem mean?

Yes, bad. Like gothic writing.

Many musicians cite you as a hero and role model. What do you think you did differently in the beginning?

Stronger and faster. We were the year before punk. A lot of people didn’t like us. The press gave us six months to live. Fuck them. Now they’re all gone and I’m still here.

How close do you feel to punk?

I liked some bands, others I didn’t. The best were the Damned and the Pistols. I never really liked the Clash. I liked Joe Strummer and his previous band, the 101’ers.
Punk kicked the ass of the music industry, which needed it. Then the internet did the same, because the industry committed suicide by trying to arrest those who downloaded music. How do you arrest everyone? You would put anyone under 15 in jail. Stupid.

They call you the “godfather of heavy metal”. Do you recognize yourself in this definition?

No, that’s ridiculous. And then we’re not heavy metal. We’re a rock’n’roll band.

But even Metallica says it.

Yes. Lars came to see us in Los Angeles, I think in ’82. He said he was the head of our West Coast fan club. It was just him and Cliff Burton. He got drunk, vomited on himself and left.

Do you still write lyrics? Don’t you ever get bored?

No. If I’m bored, I write about something else. There is always material: war, death, frustrated love. As long as the human race exists. And then justice: it has always been important in my lyrics.

How much of Elvis and Little Richard is there in your music?

Very, very much. Elvis taught us how to look. Carl Perkins and Little Richard how to play. The Beatles taught us to write our own songs.

Do you feel your influence in other bands?

A bit early Metallica. And in Max Cavalera. But then they change, because many bands follow trends. And it’s fatal. We play for ourselves. If the audience also likes it, it’s a bonus.

Don’t want to change your music?

Not too much. It’s going pretty well that way.

You said you remember the world before rock’n’roll.

Certain. I was born in ’45. When rock arrived I was ten years old. I saw Billy Fury on TV, with girls tearing his clothes off, and I thought: that’s the job for me.

After the health problems, how do you feel about playing today?

I’ll do it while I can. I’ll be 70 in December. After that it gets a little ridiculous. But we’ll see.

Have you really moved out of your famous apartment?

Yes. I moved everything to another. I have a condo at the end of the street. Now I have two seats.

Military memorabilia collections. What is your position on the war?

War is stupid. It’s politics taken to the extreme. They should put the leaders in a ring and make them fight to the death. We don’t need two million deaths. War is obscene.

You changed from Coca-Cola and whiskey to vodka and orange. Why?

Coca-Cola is very bad for you. I am diabetic. I continued drinking it for ten years after my diagnosis. Too much sugar.

Was being born on Christmas Eve a problem?

Yes. Even your parents give you a single gift for both.

Have you ever regretted not getting married?

No. I’ve never found a woman who stopped me from looking at all the others. And I don’t want to be fake. If you get married, you really have to be. I couldn’t do it.

Are you surprised you’re still alive after all you’ve done?

Just luck. I don’t recommend this lifestyle. Most die. Many of my friends have died and still had a lot of music inside them. Life is random. You can’t plan it.

Will you play forever?

After death, no. I think I should stop there. But you never know: I could go and haunt some place, ruin someone else’s concert. Maybe Tears for Fears, or something like that. Appearing mid-concert and shouting, “Everyone out, fire!”