Now Lemmy is dead.
What the hell!
Just last month, it was Phil Taylor.
Motorhead, my favorite noisemakers, are slowly disbanding for that great gig in the sky.
Lemmy Kilmister has died at the age of 70. Motorhead confirmed his death, saying their frontman passed “after a short battle with an extremely aggressive cancer.”
The band added that they “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 Motorhead loud, play Hawkwind loud, play Lemmy’s music LOUD. Have a drink or few. Share stories. Celebrate the LIFE this lovely, wonderful man celebrated so vibrantly himself. HE WOULD WANT EXACTLY THAT.”
Lemmy’s final illness followed numerous health issues over the past few years, most recently this summer, when a lung infection forced six shows to either be curtailed shortly after taking the stage or canceled outright. In 2013, he suffered a hematoma and had been fitted with a defibrillator to correct heart problems. Throughout all Lemmy’s scares, he maintained his sense of humor, saying “Apparently, I am still indestructible” back in August.
Dude, how aggressive was this cancer that it killed you in two days?
Oh, I bet I know…Lemmy, our favorite rocker d’depravitee, was undoubtedly sick as shit for a while but just bore the pain and discomfort because so much of his life was balanced precariously in such a miserable limbo, what with the hangovers and drugs and health problems and shit. Sometimes you get so used to feeling bad that you lose the ability to differentiate between recoverable bad and deadly bad.
So long, Lemmy!
I will forever remember drunkenly being tossed about the mosh pit at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium back in the 80’s while Motorhead blew out my eardrums the day before Thanksgiving. It was the first and only time, in all my concert-hopping youth, that my ears were numb for multiple days; in fact, everything sounded like a subdued, cottony murmur for the entirety of that Thanksgiving break.
Why doesn’t degeneracy of your ilk exist any more?
Degenerates now drink champagne, wear gold, drive expensive cars and revel in douchery. You were not like this. Your depravity was unadorned and sincere and without affectation. You lived hard and died hard.
Godspeed to you, good sir.
I honor, in your death, an attitude we have sadly traded in for rebellion disguised as immaturity and pretension in today’s artificial world.
Funny, when all is said and done, my favorite lick from you was not anything you performed with Motorhead. To be sure, I loved Motorhead and its raucous sonic affront, but the one song I loved most (yes, as in my favorite child) was something you sang when you were a member of Hawkwind in the early 70’s.
RIP, you wild man!