“Was not their mistake once more bred of the life of slavery that they had been living?—a life which was always looking upon everything, except mankind, animate and inanimate—‘nature,’ as people used to call it—as one thing, and mankind as another, it was natural to people thinking in this way, that they should try to make ‘nature’ their slave, since they thought ‘nature’ was something outside them” — William Morris

Tuesday, December 29, 2015


Hawkwind, “Silver Machine.” Dave Brock and possibly Robert Calvert (it's his bike the song is about) might have been a bit cross that Lemmy was asked to sing it. But as his subsequent career demonstrated he had an awesome powerful voice.

Find out you have cancer and die two days later: now that's what I call style.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Riffing off the last post, Lemmy was a glorious fungus existing symbiotically within the music industry. Disgusting, codger-like, lecherous, offensive to everyone in casual Friday khakis and chambray, Lemmy was the horned goat figure with a techno incarnation. We nascent punks, conforming in our rejection of conformity, did not reject Motorhead in the manner of REO Speedwagon because it had grime and bugs and dirt. One associated with Motorhead a traditional English bar band, as were the Stranglers and we might also have a dance to it. It seemed real, it was real, it embodied real grease and dirt and an appreciation of Triumph and BSA speed twins (damn the triples). Lemmy was the carburetor on the head of steel and his music was the machine beat of an acceptance of Heideggerian techno theory on a personal level.