He's Lemmy - the lead singer and bassist from one of the toughest, coolest and most clairvoyant hard rock/metal bands of all-time. Sure most of you have heard of Motörhead and you may recognize Lemmy from his trademark mole, but what do you really know about this living legend, a character the contains the essence of what it truly means to live the rock life? Not much? No problem. Somebody went ahead and did the work for you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the most perfectly titled movie since "Problem Child" - this is Lemmy: The Movie.
Many years ago I was working on a job that required me to be up at an ungodly time in the morning. I was in a van with Dylan around 5am and we were drinking coffee, rubbing the sleep out of our eyes and sitting in silence at a red light in NYC. As we sat there in our soon to be caffeinated depression, a man crossed into the headlights of our rented van. We looked at him, he looked at us - it was Lemmy.
As cool as we thought we were, he could see our eyes locked on him like it was Mr. Belvedere himself. He cautiously paused, as to make sure we weren't two shitfaced dicks that would plow through a red light at the crack of dawn, and then continued on with what had to be the rest of his night/our morning.
I can't remember who, but one of us said, "Jesus Christ, is that Lemmy?" There needn't be an answer as we both new what had just occurred. We might as well have been on a Rock 'N Roll safari that day/night. Keep your windows rolled up and don't annoy the animals - just sit, watch and observe. Photos and such are available at the gift shop.
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One night I was at Coney Island High. I was doing my usual night of marathon drinking and stupidity, when I noticed a lone figure at the end of the bar. White boots peaking out from tight faded black levi's, bullet belt, leather jacket, shots, and THE MOLE!!!
It was Lemmy!. He disengaged from the bar and started toward the exit. I had to say something to him, and I wanted an autograph for my friend Mike. I checked, and had a sharpie. I needed something to write on, I pulled a paper bag from the garbage near the coat check and worked up the courage to approach him.
"excuse me, Lemmy?"
He turned and looked down at me.
"Yes"
"Sorry, my friend will kill me if I don't ask you for an autograph" thrusting my sharpie and bag forward.
" Well, we don't want that then, Do we?"
and he scribbled the bag, handed it back, and with a wink shambled down the stairs out onto St. Mark's Place.
FUCKIN" AWESOME!!!!!
I wonder if Mike still has that autograph, But I got the wink.
These stories have made my day. The closest I have to a Lemmy story is getting my finger nearly bitten into by the bassist at a Nashville Pussy show. Which isn't close AT ALL. So obviously these stories have impressed. Lemmy is a god.
Lemmy is like a throwback to better times. Viking Times.
And for more on celebrities with moles, go to:
http://gone-hollywood.com/2008/04/celebrities-who-rock-the-moles/
I can't believe it was so long ago, because it feels like yesterday....
Summer of 1985, I was at the Limelight for a Corrosion of Conformity show. My friends and I -- like a lot of college age rock fans -- used to "kick start" the evening's buzz by downing plenty of alcohol at home, before getting to the club, where every drink cost a sawbuck.
By the time I got in the club on this particular night, I had a head full of happiness and a bladder full of Jim Beam. I went straight for the men's room. And the door... was locked. There was no line for the ladies room, so I tried that, and went in. Of course, there where no urinals, just four stalls -- three of which seemed flooded and had yellow plastic "Piso Mojado" signs inside. I gently knocked on the door of the only working stall and spoke to the noises coming from behind it. "Sorry, Are you going to be long, I really have to go."
The response echoed around the tiled room. "Sod off, you fucking little fuck!"
I couldn't wait any longer, so I edged up to one of the sinks and unzipped my Levi's. Just as I finally felt my first moment of relief, that stall door SLAMMED open. I looked in the mirror just in time to see Lemmy's mole give me the finger as it pulled up its pants and walked out the door.
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