No Sugarcoating & No Bullshit:
Written by Jo Hayes
Sunday, 31 January 2016 03:30
Hello, Uber Rockers. This month is going to be a bit different from my usual blog of ranting and rambling.
In light of the recent passing of Lemmy just after Christmas, this blog is dedicated to the man himself, with an interview of a good friend of his. I thought this would be a good insight into what Lemmy was like as a person, rather than Mr Rock ‘n’ Roll.
No, it isn’t Dave Grohl or Slash, but someone who isn’t a famous rock god – my Dad, Pilly.
Thanks to him, I met Lemmy on many occasions, and have fond memories of hanging out backstage after a gig. I remember Lemmy as being intelligent, and so down to earth (which you might not expect with him being the ultimate rock god). He was also what you would call a true gent, always making sure I had somewhere to sit down, something to drink, and a lit cigarette. The latter once nearly resulted in a ruined e-cigarette – Lemmy asked if he could light my cigarette for me, held out a lit Zippo under my e-cigarette. I had to quickly explain it was electronic, and not real.
Anyway, enough from me, and on to the interview.
Thanks for agreeing to do this interview, Pilly. First off, can you tell me how you met Lemmy?
Back in ’77, a friend’s disgruntled Hawkwind-loving big brother flung a copy of the first Motörhead album at me, with the words ‘You like that punk crap, have this!’. He was disappointed that it wasn’t full of songs about elves in space, I imagine! I took it home, played it non-stop for weeks, and when I read in one of the weeklies that Motörhead were thinking of calling it a day, I went to the Library (remember them, you Google-reliant kiddiwinks?), found the address for Chiswick Records, and wrote to him saying how important that album was to me, and that they shouldn’t give up! I was 14 at the time… A few days later, I got a letter from Lem, thanking me, and saying they were going to carry on. He’d put his address on it, so I took that as an invitation to write back, and before long we were swapping letters every few weeks – and long story short, met him for the first time at a Sheffield gig where Lem finally got to put a face to his funny Northern penfriend. Those were still the days when there was more empty space than fans at Motörhead gigs!
How did you manage to stay in touch for all these years? (Considering you moving about & Lemmy’s schedule.)
Short of carrier pigeons and morse code, and waiting for some bastard to invent the internet, we kept in touch via landline telephones, only embracing technology later. Speaking the same language obviously helped. Ahem. He’d put me on the guest list for shows – The Overkill tour, Bomber tour, that mad thing at Stafford Bingley Hall, and I when I left school at 16, at a loose end, I went along on the Ace Up Your Sleeve tour for ten days whilst they promoted the ‘Ace Of Spades’ album.
How would you describe Lemmy to anyone who didn’t know him?
A gentleman. The epitome of class. Loyal. Tommy Cooper with Spike Milligan’s repertoire. Quite frankly, the most honourable, intelligent, decent man I’ve known, after my dad. A mine of musical and military history. A wordsmith, and one hell of a bass player.
What would be one of your favourite memories of Lemmy that you’re willing to share with us? Nothing too incriminating!
That rules a lot out. To be honest, my favourite memory of Lem, that sums him up in a nutshell, doesn’t involve me, other than as an onlooker. That’d be Manchester Apollo, 1980; ‘Ace Of Spades’ high in the charts, sold-out gig just finished, after he’d been out to the merch desk to sign stuff for fans and have a chat. There was a bunch of fans who’d travelled from the other end of the country to get to the show, with no thought of how they were getting back or staying. Lem peels out a wad of money, and gives away tenners by the handful to the fans with instructions to ‘Get a fucking bed and breakfast for the night and get home safe’. The hottest property in rock at the time, and there is he, giving his money away to make sure his fans were safe.
On a personal level, I always laugh inside when I think back to that gig in Boston a few years back, when we were backstage and his Personal Assistant knocks on the door with ‘Lem, there’s so-and-so from Aerosmith here wanting to say hello’, and Lem came back with ‘Tell him I’ll be a while, I’m talking to my friends!’. Or possibly the time when I presented him, as a surprise, with the amended artwork I got done for the ‘1916’ reissue – it had always been a bugbear of his (and an indication of how fucking stupid Epic Records were!) that the original sleeve didn’t have the French flag on it, even though France was where most of WW1 was fought. So I had it re-done, with the French flag prominent, and it actually brought tears to his eyes. It was nice to give something back to the man who gave so much to others.
What do you think Lemmy would think of the petition to name a heavy metal element after him?
I think he’d be either be mildly amused at best, or spitting feathers at worst. He hated that whole Heavy Metal label. Motörhead played rock’n’fucking roll!
What about the Jack and Coke now being named ‘The Lemmy’?
A real Lemmy Jack and Coke would involve quantities and proportions that the general public might find unpalatable. I think it’s a great idea to honour him, but a real ‘Lemmy’ drink would have most people in A & E!
Anything else that you’d like to add?
That aside from his band being a large part of the soundtrack of my life, I’m proud to have known such an incredible person. We shared a similar sense of humour, and I’ll miss the random SMS messages with crap jokes, his wisdom, and his genuine concern for me and mine.
I’m glad he went quietly, with his family around him, playing on an arcade game. He led one hell of a great life, and he’ll always be remembered, not just for the music.
Only one regret – that the last time I’d seen him, I wish I’d known it was going to be the last time……
