And, like most I was shocked.
At first.
But as the moments moved forward, I'd began to realize that somewhere in the back of my mind (and quite often, the front) I'd known that I'd be reading this story sometime in the near future.
There's always been this popular epigram that after the extinction of mankind, be it by nuclear war (the popular outcome of this particular proverb) or any other type of mess, that the only survivors would be cockroaches, and Lemmy.
And I suppose after witnessing the almost life-long chemical intake of a man who only slowed for a brief moment, right at the very end, it was easy to believe.
My thoughts turned right away to the last time I'd seen Motorhead perform, in Minneapolis. This was the first time of my life long dedication to loud abrasive music that I'd actually felt pain in my ears from the noise that band was making in front of me. My eyes squinted, my head retracted to the side, and for the fist time, I had to take a moment and "go get some air."
But right after that embarrassing memory (I say embarrassing because if it's too loud, you're too old right? Somebody tell Lem!) my thoughts turned to all the time I got to spend with Lemmy and Co.
Ask any one who's ever met Lemmy, (except a select few of which I'm sure you've heard stories) and they will all tell you the same thing, Lemmy is "one of the nicest, genuine people I've ever met."
And it's true. He always took the time for his fans. If only because what he'd said a thousand times was true, that without them, Motorhead would be nothing.
I was fortunate enough to befriend Lemmy to a degree where he'd call me whenever in town, and we'd go out to clubs before and after their show. And he'd even taken to talking with me over the phone somewhat regularly while having time off from runnin' 'round the world.
I'd gotten to know folks from the crew, Yogi (monitors), Hobbsy (sound), Vito (drums), Tim "the Butcher" (bass), Tom and Gomez (guitars) and of course Phil and Mikki. But another from the crew was a bit closer, Tony.
Tony was the LD (Lighting Tech.) & electrician for the band for a number of years. Lem had takin' to calling him "sparky" after an incident where Tony got jolted at the top of a very high ladder, and had ended up unconscious, hanging by the wires that had just almost knocked him dead.
Like myself, Tony was a record collector and he'd visit Minneapolis regularly for me to take him to the local record fairs.
It was Tony who, one night, after Mikki's tech had "fucked off" and left the bus while in Canada, suggested to Freddie (Tour Manager at the time) "well, Mike plays the drums..." and collectively all heads, including Lemmy's turned to me as if to say, "is that right?" And so it's because of Tony that I'd ended up with a very brief, very temporary stint as Mikki's tech.
Now, getting to know you're idol (in this case, Lemmy), and knowing that I was among a band that I'd worshiped since the age of eleven is one big fucking deal as it is. But finding yourself getting paid, money, to be on stage right behind the drummer for the entire show is an all out wet dream come true. (not because I fancy Mikki, you understand)
Knowing Lemmy is one part, but so is knowing his age. And every year with the release of a new album, a world tour, and all the "Lemmy business", that his "job" consisted of, every once in a while you'd silently think to yourself, "how long can this man go? Maybe that cockroach thing is true!"
The autobiography, the film, the man, the myth, the legend, after all was only human. (hard to believe, I know!)
Ah.. but getting lost in nostalgia is not what I'd sat down to write about.
Time wore on, as it always does when we're not looking. Knowing Lem was approaching 70 years, and witnessing a decline in his overall health, I knew that day was drawing nearer. I guess I began thinking about this after I'd heard a rampant rumor, some eight or ten years ago that he'd lost a leg due to amputation. After hearing this I promptly called him at home and he'd described to me what he said was no more than "a poison toe." just an infection, I assume brought on by diabetes. I'll stop there because it's not my place to discuss his private health issues.
And this was something I really thought about. I couldn't think of Motorhead without contemplating how much longer he was going to last.
There was never any question in my mind that he'd retire, stop touring, writing, playing or any of that shit. He'd even recently spoke of needing a "stick" to walk with. Although he said he'd only use it off stage, he went on to state that if need be, he'd use the stick on stage as well. There was never one doubt that this man, this purest specimen of Rock and Roll incarnate, would allow anything to slow him or stop him from bringing his message as loudly and as strong as ever.
And that is exactly what he fucking did.
The news broke, the initial shock was interrupted by a familiar feeling that I'd been expecting this day to arrive.
One by one, as I watched the news feed on facebook as well as twitter fill with, at first, the reaction. The "Oh No's", the "Sad Day's", the "How could this happen's", all the while I was thinking to myself that it wasn't all that shocking. I suppose just because I'd been watching closer than most. Aware of the drawing conclusion at some point.
Then a friend had posted the preliminary official word from imotorhead.com with the statement:
"There is no easy way to say this…our mighty, noble friend Lemmy passed away today after a short battle with an extremely aggressive cancer. He had learnt of the disease on December 26th, and was at home, sitting in front of his favorite video game from The Rainbow which had recently made its way down the street, with his family.
We cannot begin to express our shock and sadness, there aren’t words.
We will say more in the coming days, but for now, please…play Motörhead loud, play Hawkwind loud, play Lemmy’s music LOUD.
Have a drink or few.
Have a drink or few.
Share stories.
Celebrate the LIFE this lovely, wonderful man celebrated so vibrantly himself.
HE WOULD WANT EXACTLY THAT.
Ian ‘Lemmy’ Kilmister
1945 -2015
Born to lose, lived to win."
I got up from my seat and began to follow directions. I grabbed a three and a half foot tall stack of CD's, headed for the stereo, and began slinging Motorhead tunes back to back as if I were on the air.
Then I noticed my computer screen. I took my seat and began to scroll down my news feed and as post after post after post flew passed me, I'd noticed that it was non-stop praise, tribute, Motorhead, Hawkwind, as far down as I could go. I knew this was gonna be big news, but holy fuck! I looked as if the entire world had stopped, and all eyes, hearts, and clenched fists, whether Iron or not, were focused on this man.
I had absolutely no control over the roar of laughter that shot from me as I thought to myself "Fuckin' A Lem, you fucking did it! Right to the very end! You NEVER let the bastards grind ya down!"
I was consumed with a reflection that I had not planned, nor was I prepared for.
It was crystal clear to me. Here is a man who lived his entire life on HIS TERMS, Master of his own destiny. Bowing only to the few who led him in the direction he'd chosen early on.
Lemmy, 49% Motherfucker, 51% Son of a Bitch, BUT 100% REAL. 100% Genuine. 100% Honest. 100% Gentleman. 100% No Bullshit, and 101% Rock And Fucking Roll.
Here is a man who led by example. Perhaps one of the very last. We are ALL lucky to have known him. We were witness to what a person can be by staying true to heart, of sound mind, with strength from within. With integrity. Right up to the fucking end. No prisoners.
It has been stated that if Motorhead moved in next door to your house, your lawn would die. And that may be. But the seeds that Lemmy and Company have planted in my heart are growing ever stronger by the minute. Seeds he planted in all of our hearts, sprouting giant banners that read "Who the fuck are they to tell you you can't?!
"They're just a bunch of clowns, don't let 'em grind ya down."
Thanks for the lesson Lemmy.
You're still the Gov'ner.
your friend and comrade,
"Moth" Mike
