In the dimly lit control room of Paramount Studios in Hollywood, California, sits a man dressed in black, his black cowboy hat nodding to music that cranks from several speakers. He has a drink in each hand – red wine in one, Jack and Coke in the other, the Jack apparently to disguise the taste of the wine. Some of the vast array of buttons and dials on the mixing desk move about on their own as if dancing to the music, and the man leans forward and turns the volume up.
Somewhere in California, seismologists exchange worried glances. Motörhead have a new album. The man in question is, of course, Lemmy – vocalist, bassist and living legend – and the rumours of his demise have clearly been greatly exaggerated.
True, he’s slowed down, finally showing signs of age. But it’s easy to believe that the silver-tipped cane he now carries is as much for show as to assist his walking. And there’s a 50/50 chance it was made in Germany and has a dagger inside.
Yeah. I am Motörhead all the time. When you work in a factory you get to clock out, but I don’t.
I’m Motörhead 24 hours a day, so I think like that. I think Motörhead. That’s all I am to a very large extent.
I know intellectually that there was a time when I wasn’t in Motörhead, but I can’t actually remember what it felt like. Sign up below to get the latest from Classic Rock, plus exclusive special offers, direct to your inbox! The challenge is for us to all be in the same place at the same time, and .