Who would win by wrestling, Lemmy or God?
“Who would win by fighting, Lemmy or God?” It’s a trick question, because the answer is already written in the history of rock’n’roll: Lemmy is God! Today, December 28thon the occasion of the tenth anniversary of passing of the iconic Motörhead frontmanRockol dedicates a special to Lemmy Kilmister with a “mixtape” (available at this link) conceived as an act of secular devotion towards an icon who has spanned decades without asking permission from anyone. The joke made popular by the 1994 film “Airheads” is not just a gag, but a cultural synthesis. In metal and rock Lemmy is not a rival of God, he is a mythological figure already placed on another plane, where faith passes through amplifiers, stage, whiskey and maximum volume.
With Motörhead the music accelerates
Ian Fraser Kilmister, later known simply as Lemmy Kilmister, was born in Stoke-on-Trent on Christmas Eve 1945 and grew up between England and Wales, before music became an obligatory direction. Before Motörhead there were occasional jobs, beat groups, counterculture London, the experience as Jimi Hendrix’s roadie and then Hawkwind, with whom Kilmister learned that rock can be repetition, trance, excess. When he was dismissed from the band in 1975, Lemmy didn’t start from scratch and founds Motörhead as an immediate response, without second thoughts. The name says it all. In interviews Lemmy said that the name Motörhead originated from an old slang term used to indicate an amphetamine useraccompanied, however, by another meaning, more harmless and concrete, linked to the world of engines and speed. It amused him to see how many Americans completely ignored the meaning linked to drugs and read that name only in a mechanical way, thinking of cars, motorcycles and workshops. Over time, Motörhead ended up entering common language as a synonym for speed freak, reinforcing an image that constantly oscillated between street culture, speed and excess.
Consequentially, with Motörhead the music acceleratesthe bass becomes a rhythmic weapon, the voice takes on the role of rough narrator. Lemmy will keep repeating that Motörhead is a rock’n’roll bandeven as the world places them in the history of heavy metal.
The image complements the sound
Lemmy becomes a character, rather than an icon, designing himself not a disguise, but a uniform: black jacket, hat, boots, military details and western references, the microphone placed high as an observation point over the world. The voice seems to come from a room saturated with smoke, whiskey and amplifiers, a continuous story of war, gambling, authority, loss and survival. The Rickenbacker bass doesn’t accompanies, but drives through chords and distortion like a supercharged rhythm guitar. The one introduced by Lemmy and his Motörhead is a personal grammar that influences generations of musicians, from metal to punk, without the need for manifestos or programmatic declarations.
Behind the icon remains a biography without idealizations. Lemmy never married and has always talked about his love life without building a heroic narrative. He had two sons, Sean Kilmister and Paul Inder, the latter of whom he met years after birth and later continued into his adult life. He went through excesses, addictions, endless tours, health problems, without ever transforming all this into a moral discourse. He often spoke against the hypocrisy of power, institutions and religion, defending a form of individual freedom that does not ask for acquittals. Also for this reason Lemmy remained credible: no redemption, no lessons, just consistency.
Ten years after his death on December 28, 2015 due to an aggressive form of cancer, Lemmy Kilmister does not belong to nostalgia but to a present who continues to use it as a measure. Motörhead remain a reference because they do not promise salvation, but presence. In his direct way of being in the world, Lemmy left a simple message: play, live, don’t back down. For this reason, perhaps, it is not surprising to discover that Lemmy faced his own mortality, and his cancer diagnosis, with the same immediate, no-nonsense attitude that characterized his entire life. For the ten years since his death, “Metal Hammer” has collected testimonies from family, friends and closest colleagues of the Motörhead icon. In one special, in particular, stories and memories about how Lemmy reacted to his cancer diagnosis received in December 2015. Among the people interviewed, former Motörhead manager Todd Singerman – for example – said: “How did you deal with death? As a champion. When the doctor was in the house and told us, I burst into tears right then and there. I couldn’t help it. And Lemmy was the one who consoled me.” He added: “Literally his only goal was to collapse at the last show of the last concert of the last tour. It arrived two weeks later. The same goes for Ozzy. They both died exactly 17 days after their last show!” Drummer Mikkey Dee, Lemmy’s former bandmate, recalled the Motörhead frontman’s lifestyle, narrating: “In interviews people said: ‘It’s a tragedy.’ I replied: ‘It’s not a tragedy. It’s sad, sure, but look at it from this perspective: Lemmy lived 70 years by his own rules, in his own way‘” Phil Campbell echoed this, adding: “What would he be doing if he were still here? The same thing he’s always done. We would play in Motörhead. We never talked about the end, we always talked about the next album, the next tourof the next concert, of the next piece. We’d still be there pumping out volume whether you like it or not.” Kilmister passed away two days after being diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer, and four days after his 70th birthday.
Today there is no point in asking who would win if Lemmy and God fought. The answer is already amplified, distorted, definitive. Happy rock’n’roll, Lemmy. And thank you for never turning the volume down.
