On the Road Again
Live Reviews:

Mötorhead
May 28, 1999
The Warehouse, Toronto, Ontario

"Our name is Mötorhead . . . We're gonna kick your ass!!!" Lemmy's traditional greeting may have been North American-ized for the Toronto audience, but the sentiment was the same, and the follow-up was fitting: Mötorhead are a force of nature.

They've been at it for nearly twenty-five years, in different incarnations, and Lemmy Kilmister, vocalist, bass strummer, caustic wit and fashion holdout (that belt of ammunition has sure gotten some use over the years) shows no signs of backing down -- if anything, the group's music has gotten harder over the years. Of course, when you're promoting an album called Everything Louder than Everyone Else, you've got to make sure you deliver.

And so, the diverse all-ages crowd at The Warehouse (and I do mean all-ages, from pre-teens to senior citizens) was treated to twenty-one salvos from the hardest-working, and hardest-hitting, trio in showbiz. Lemmy stood his ground stoically like a Norse god, his hair blown back, churning snarls out of his axe. Guitarist Phil "the Beast" (formerly "Zoom") Campbell played the sly sidekick role in tuque with ski-goggles, making good use of the drink-holder on his mic stand, fingers dancing on the fretboard as he ripped around the stage in ripped jeans. Drummer Mikkey "the best drummer in the world" Dee pounded the living hell out of his kit with a reckless abandon that suggested he was performing a Herculean task -- and enjoying it.

In a sense, it is a Herculean task providing the backbone for Mötorhead, and the crowd was appreciative whenever Dee stood up from the drumkit and egged everybody on with a goofy smile. The vibe at the venue was good overall, except for the redneck beercan-throwing factor, which caused Lemmy to mimic a throwing action and shout, "If you see someone doing this, cripple them!" It's a good thing the Warehouse doesn't serve bottles . . .

The set, admittedly, offered little variety in terms of speed and tempo. Still, while running the gamut from loud to louder and fast to faster, the band breathed life into its metal assaults by letting its blues roots show through and maintaining a groove and sense of humour, two things many of the groups they've influenced are lacking. Highlights were many, including "Sacrifice," its full-on burn kept punky by a fast tempo and Dee's insane drumming; "Orgasmatron," with Lemmy underlit in green light to look like a demonic version of Neil Young, and "Killed by Death," arguably the band's finest moment, where ridiculously funny lyrics and killer riffs gave way to a duel between Campbell's squealing guitar and Lemmy's primal howls.

When the battle was fought and won and the last strains of encores "Ace of Spades" and "Overkill" were left to ring in everyone's ears, it was tempting to wonder how long Lemmy can keep up this level of commitment to the forces of rock and still have the energy to party afterwards. It seems rock gods move in mysterious ways. As the big man once wrote, "I should be tired, and all I am is wired/Ain't felt this good for an hour --/Mötorhead, Remember me/I'm Mötorhead, All night . . ."