Lemmy Kilmister passed away last night. He was 70.
“Legend”, “Icon”, “The embodiment of Rock ‘n’ Roll”. There are a mountainous lot of words to describe Lemmy Kilmister, and all of them righteous in their own way. What can be said that hasn’t been? The man made a legacy that grew in his own lifetime, and during his years, he received recognition for it in the forms of endless adoration and admiration. Without Motörhead, extreme metal would be a very different place, if even a place at all. The band informed and injected heavy metal with a sense of unparalleled speed, propelled by weight and agitation that set the stage alight for raunch and aggression.
I doubt I can come up with anything new to say about the man, but at least I can pay my respects, and say goodbye. Despite having never met him or even having looked at him in the flesh, I feel like I’ve lost a part of me, a hole that grows the more the news of Lemmy’s passing weighs down on me. Like many other metalheads around the globe, his music was a stepping stone into my appreciation of heavy metal, one of the genre’s very first bands I ever heard, and the one that created a ravenous hunger for raw, thrashy, ugly music that grew into a love of Tank, Bulldozer, Warfare, Venom, Celtic Frost and Bathory—his pupils, his children. Motörhead has always been and always will be a favorite, and despite the homages and imitators and the band’s own unrelenting output of music, they remained clearly and uniquely themselves, a crystalline image and sound dwelling in my mind, powered by the gritty and grizzled rasp and the thundering bulldozer bass of the weathered pillar himself. We all knew he was going to go, but we didn’t think he would go so suddenly.
It’s always odd to think that something you love is gone forever.
Rest in peace, Ian Fraser “Lemmy” Kilmister. You old bastard.
I always knew the only way
Is never live beyond today
They proved me right
They proved me wrong
But they could never last this long
My life, my heart, black night, dark star.