Motorhead, ‘Nuff Said

I know some of you are waiting for the report on the Motorhead show on Saturday, so here’s what I’ve got fer ye:

Made up my mind this time that I was not going to stress out about who didn’t get along with who, and how/if I was going to be a part of any aftershow or backstage hooplah. I knew KEVIN was driving the band to an instore but I didn’t send a message to them through him because I didn’t want to be another clamoring dick. I figured I’d know someone and something would work itself out. I just set my intention for a happy night and left it to the Universe to sort out the details and the passes. And I bought tickets ahead of time rather than try to finagle guest list, because it’s fucking Motorhead and they deserve the money. I had an extra ticket for CID and told her I’d meet her there, VAS checked in and I met her there too.

On my way in the cab I got a text from DANO saying “Kevin mentioned to Lemmy that you’re coming to the show and he definitely wants to see you.” I got another text from someone else saying, “Lemmy wants you there!” Woo hoo! I was already set and wasn’t even out of the cab. Thank you, Universe!

Kevin met us at the door to make sure we got in easily, then ran off to do his job. We went to the back bar and some random guy I’ve never met bought shots for about 6 of us, and then disappeared when we weren’t looking. The Jager Fairy. Although he was pretty big and manly looking, maybe the Jager Genie? In any case he was a nice guy with no agenda and set the tone of the night right from the start.

I’m happy to say the place was jam packed, and the ladies in our group all remarked that we felt VERY popular that evening, with lots of “How you doin’s” and drink offers coming at us from all sides. If I’m ever single again I’m going on the road with Motorhead one more time. Truthfully it was probably more quantity than quality, but still–free booze! Constant compliments! Bring it on!

The band was perfect, of course. The new record has a lot of great songs, and the old songs would make me weep if I wasn’t so busy jumping up and down and shouting the lyrics. I can’t tell you how nice it is to hear the booming bass of Metropolis wash over you when you’ve spent the last two years up to your eyeballs in socialites and hipsters and models in headbands and mash-up dj’s and bad imitations of the already awful Strokes. Motorhead all loud and live like that makes my heart sing, it’s a step into the warm comfort of home, it’s where I want to live, where I’ve always wanted to live, where people like us belong.

After the show Kevin came and collected us and spent the next 20 minutes at the backstage door shouting at various security who wanted to bounce us, “This is Raff and Lemmy wants to see her!” It was a zoo and he was tired and wanted to go home, but he had a mission to complete and would not stray from bound duty. Thank you, Kevin.

The tour manager (who is very cool and who I’ve met before but stupidly always forget his name) came out and bellowed, “Raff and Donna. He only wants to see Raff and Donna right now!” DONNA and I were ushered into Lemmy’s dressing room and were granted an audience with the Lemster in his underwear and socks. This was not a shock to either one of us as this is his standard aftershow ensemble and we saw it every night on the road with MH, sometimes accompanied by a towel around his head turban style. Lemmy’s a clean man and he likes to take a shower directly after playing and before socializing, he’s got good legs and damn it, he likes to show ’em off.

We toasted with some Jack Daniels (of course), Donna gave Lemmy some presents, he gave us tees, and we shot the shit a little. It was really lovely to connect with him in such an intimate setting, and I’m more than grateful for his generosity. He always takes care of his friends. Then Lemmy put his jeans on and Vas (he hadn’t known she was outside) and the rest of the crew came in, except for poor Cid who had had her $3000 chain necklace confiscated at the door because it looked “dangerous”, and was busy trying to retrieve it.

I got totally silly on Jack and Coke, just like I did the last time I was at a Motorhead show. It always seems like a good idea when it’s being offered to you by Lemmy Kilmeister, and then 15 minutes later I’m bouncing off the walls from all the sugar and caffeine. I get very chipper and can’t feel that I’m drunk. I don’t know how he does it.

There was a pretty funny moment when the dressing room door flew open and Steve Poss waved his arms and yelled, “Raff! HELP! RAAAAAAFFFF!!!” as security dragged him away. Poor Poss, knowing him I wasn’t going to get involved in that one.

Lemmy was obviously pretty tired from the show, though. He’s not the youngest of men, although he does still deal pretty well. People were talking about afterparties and I leaned in and asked him quietly, “You don’t really want to go out, do you?” And he said “No. I’m well shagged from the show. I just want to go back to the hotel.” Fair enough, rock star. You’ve done enough for us tonight.

Vas and I said our goodbyes and Lemmy said, “I love you, you know. You’re family.”

And that made my year. Thanks again, Lem. I love you forever.

Author: Raffaele

Rock and roll juggernaut, writer, muse, animal lover, Cycle Slut from Hell, friend, lover, sister, daughter, nerd, fagwoman, Slytherin, killer queen.

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