Thursday, 21 April 2011

White Line Fever

Lemmy's book is very good. Appropriate to the title it should ideally be read in one sitting with the sun shining as it is today, but with the blinds down, and appropriate liquid refreshment through the afternoon. It is the most straight forward rock and roll biography you can imagine, and the word sanguine comes to mind continually when it comes to his view on life so far. Lemmy was never rescued by aristocrats, rock or otherwise (marking him rather above Keef in this respect) and has simply tread the boards, the real rock and roll cowboy, hating suits, the business, having a laugh with his mates, leading the band, turning up on time, sacking those who lost it, being sacked, doing the shit. It turns out he wasn't turfed out of Hawkwind for being a poor bass player, but for doing the wrong drugs, and funnily enough, the one thing Lemmy does not wallow around in the text here, is anything to do with drugs, because, one assumes, speed is just part of his way, and therefore irrelevant to the real concerns of the day- which is usually 'putting on a good show'. This is an extremely astute textual move, and most refreshing in itself.
Now I'm going back on e-bay to see if I should really buy that vintage copy of 'Space Ritual'.

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