kung fu grippe


  1. Watched the first half of the (hagiographic, but charming)1   Lemmy documentary last night. Which—surprise, surprise—got me pulling out Mötorhead’s classic 1981 live album, No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith this morning.

    Stipulated: all of this third-generation Lemmy worship can surely get tedious, but, seriously? This. This. This record.

    Holy fucking shit.

    Thirty years later, this still sounds huge and utterly terrifying. Three guys with three instruments, and it sounds like a soundtrack to the apocalypse.

    No bullshit, no funny makeup, no dancing skeletons or slide shows or playing drums on the guitar player’s motorcycle helmet. Just fucking seriously dangerous-sounding rock ‘n roll.

    The superfans will obviously disagree, but, of the band’s three albums I’ve heard all the way through, this is THE Mötorhead record. Probably the only one you really need; but, yes, you do really need this.

    Fifty-one unrelenting minutes of “Holy Fucking Shit.” And, this is how it starts.


    1. Does Lemmy actually only walk in extreme slow-motion while lighting a new cigarette? And, does he only light them? Maybe if he walked faster, he’d have more time to finish them. Just saying.