This morning I drove to work to the news that Lemmy passed away. He died the same age as my dad and I dare say that that’s about all they had in common.
I don’t believe you can grieve for someone you’ve never met. It’s too easy to idolize a larger than life figure from the distance, once they’ve left the stage.
Ace of Spades was released a few months after I was born. As I was probably busy trying to make sense of my immediate surroundings whilst being fed and changed, somebody had just turned the volume to 11.
That guy from the West Midlands was then 35 years old and had already done reasonable damage to make a name for himself. I don’t doubt for a second the scale of excessive lifestyle he is credited for whenever his name is mentioned, but reducing him to foul language and debauchery is stupid and unjust.
The trademark way he positioned his microphone did not just give credit to the lyrics he would write, spit, shout, and growl. It was the allegory of a loud and proud attitude, both more subtle and more provocative than the ever present middle finger.
Rock ‘n roll was a martial art against any form of authority and Lemmy will remain it’s tallest knight. Thank you for the noise and Godspeed!