It was cold as f@(k on that Winter day almost 20 years ago when we heard that Motörhead and Dio were going to be playing some crappy club in York! We piled into my old Malibu (The Beast for those of you who remember back that far...) and pointed the car South. Being Winter, it got dark early which made it harder to find the aforementioned crappy club. I think it was Double Jacks or some other equally shitty club that may or may not even be open anymore. We finally found it and parked between a dumpster and a telephone pole and made our way inside. It was almost as cold inside as it was outside. People were milling about and setting stuff up on stage. It was already after the announced start time. They said two things that I will decipher in the next sentence: we are having technical difficulties, and Dio is sick, so he won't be here. Okay, the technical difficulties were most likely that the club did not have the power needed to run all the amps. Dio being sick was most likely he stuck his head out of the bus, looked at the crappy little dive bar, and said,"I'm sick of playing little horse shazam! clubs like this!" and went back to the bus. The delay was probably some poor roadie trying to find an all-night hardware store so he could buy a generator. We congregated at the back of the club and started playing Fooseball. Moments later, the fine fellows from Motörhead strolled back and started shooting pool about six feet away from us. They were as low key as we were excited to see them. They had some unbelievably hot groupies with them, no way they were from York, PA... they brought their own to ensure high quality. Eventually we gathered up our courage and decided to chat them up. Jane reminded Lemmy of the time he poured her a shot of whiskey on his bus during a rainy night after a show with Sabbath. He said,"Well, that's just being polite, innit?" or something along those lines. I told him I enjoyed the spot they did on The Young Ones. He responded with a little bit of gibberish and seemed to honestly not really remember. My brother Steven said hello, and immediately Lemmy pointed out his Jethro Tull t-shirt: "Ian Anderson is a smurf prick! Time will not have changed that one! Prancing about like some fancy 'Jazz Flautist'." -- At this point, Lemmy actually stood on one leg in what remains the best mockery of Ian Anderson playing his flute ever seen in public. We all had a good laugh, and then Lemmy signed Steven's Jethro Tull T-shirt! In fact, they were all good sports and signed anything we shoved in front of them.
By now, they got the electricity and the amps sorted out, and the opening act came on. I honestly don't remember who they were. I mean, they were not terrible, and they even did a few Dio tunes just to be friendly, but in a story like this, who could possibly stand out more than a pouty Ronnie James Dio and a kick bottom Lemmy? Anyway, they finished and cleared the stage and Motörhead clambered up there... and the single note played on the bass to make sure everything was plugged in was louder than anything I had heard up to that point! "We are Motörhead, and we play Rock and Roll!" BLAM BLAM BLAM BLA BLAM BLA BLAM BLAM BLA! It is hard to precisely describe the intensity these guys brought to this little shithole. "Everything Louder Than Everyone Else!" The volume was so high that it actually compressed the air in the club into a quasi-solid. My fingers were shoved so far in my ears that I could touch my brain, but it was okay because I could hear the show perfectly through my open mouth! At one point Lemmy asked to see some titties, and even though it was less than ten degrees in that club, I think one young fan obliged. I don't know exactly how long they played, but after shaking the beer glasses, the tables, the walls, and our bones until everyone was exhausted, the show ended. I didn't have any beer that night, but I was drunk off the energy that these guys brought with them. I mean, the club was craptastic, in a crap hole in south central PA, without enough juice to run their equipment, but they made it work, and they rocked as hard as if they were playing Madison Square garden! These guys were Saints in the Church of Rock And Roll, and I was converted. Their dedication to rocking and rolling was so pure and intense that any time they were playing within 300 miles or so, we were there. I don't even have hard feelings about the Where The smurf Is Motörhead tour of '05, although my left bottom cheek is still a bit numb. I don't care that the security guy at The Showboat was basically checking to see if I was circumcised. I didn't mind wading through a sea of hipsters to get to the show at Ram's Head. I gladly parked two blocks away and walked through construction rubble to see them at The Electric Factory. If these guys can put that much energy into playing a gig, I can put at least that much energy into going to see a gig. Lemmy Kilmister was Rock and Roll, and he will be missed.
I think he did well to last as long as he did with his healthy lifestyle
Although considering the rolling stones are all still kicking, I don't quite buy into the list of a million things that will give you cancer if you eat, drink, look at or smell them
