Motorhead @ Challenge Stadium,Perth (16/10/2007)

Thu 18th Oct, 2007 in Gig Reviews

Just in case you thought you were going out for tea and scones, Lemmy warned you; “We are Motorhead, and we play rock-n-fuck-n-roll!”

Any misgivings the less hardcore fans might have had about seeing the rock gods of their youth, now aged and feeble were quickly dispelled on Tuesday night as Motorhead rocked harder and louder than wannabes 20 years their junior, and they knew it.

There is nothing feeble about Lemmy Kilmister; the one constant member of the band does not age. 30 years of the dirtiest and loudest rock band in the world would have long since killed a lesser man, but the 61-year-old looked fit enough to go another 30 years easily. Dressed in his usual black shirt and intimidatingly tight jeans, all eyes were on Lemmy (and his pants) from the word go. Diminutive guitarist Phil Campbell attempted distraction as he stalked the stage from corner to corner, making sure all of the audience was able to see his new guitar, and grinning at his fans from under his grey beanie. But the most impressive performance came from drummer Mikkey Dee whose speed and precision was astonishing, and in case no one was paying attention to the drummer, the 15-minute drum solo made sure he received due recognition.

One might imagine a 15-minute drum solo to be an interminable self-indulgence appreciated only by the drummer, but Dee was hugely entertaining. When he dropped his first stick and didn’t miss a beat, collecting a replacement which he promptly flicked over his shoulder, the audience laughed, but as he juggled his way through 20 or more sticks in rapid succession, still managing to keep up the normal beat, even the most uncoordinated spectator could not help but be awestruck. While he played, Lemmy and Campbell took the opportunity to go off stage for a smoke, but brazenly flouting law and order, in true rock n roll fashion, wandered back onstage still smoking. It seemed even Challenge Stadium officials were awestruck, because no one tried to make them quit.

The only people seated were those who had rocked too hard in their youth and broken their bodies, those who had brought their children with them, and those who were just a little intimidated by the crowd. They stood briefly, when insensitively admonished to do so from the stage, with many no doubt, yearning to be one of the crowd surfers being passed towards the stage gods over the heads of fans, like sacrifices in some grisly ritual.

It seems that one mosh member was unimpressed, or else he remembered that banana he didn’t eat at lunch that day and threw it on stage so it wouldn’t get squashed in the crowd. It is a stupid and ill-mannered person who pays $135 for a ticket to a gig he thinks he will hate enough to throw fruit at the performers. Then again, Motorhead fans are not exactly renowned for their observation of etiquette. They aren’t renowned for their even tempers either. That fruit thrower may well have found himself being Killed by Death had anyone noticed the insult.

Acutely aware of the several generations who had come out to see them, Lemmy directed some mockery at the web 2.0 generation; asking who had the new album and after a deafening lack of response, asked why the hell they hadn’t stolen it or downloaded it. They worked their way through a selection of new songs, and old favourites including Sacrifice, Just Cos You Got the Power, and In the Name of Tragedy, and returned as promised, for an encore performance of Whorehouse Blues and of course, Ace of Spades.

In a heart-warming gesture after the show, Dee presented a set of drumsticks to the littlest member of the mosh pit, who looked to be about seven years old, and had had to be rescued by security during the show. He had been dragged out of the mosh by security, horns up, still rocking despite the obvious threat to his wellbeing.

Unlike some other vintage performers Perth has seen this year, Motorhead balanced a gentle teasing of the audience with the perfect amount of self-deprecation, never taking their fans for granted; it would be unimaginable, for example, to keep their audience waiting for three hours before starting the show. Between songs, Lemmy revealed a rebellious spirit, his passion and his unending love of their music, delivering the performance of a lifetime whilst never compromising on the heart of rock that drives the motor.