Motorhead kicks out the motherf%#@ing jams on the Granville strip

As I was strolling along the Granville Mall last night, heading to the Motorhead show, I was accosted by scalpers trying to unload tickets for a Bryan Adams show at the Orpheum. "No thanks," I thought to myself as their voices battered me from all sides, "I'd rather rock." North Van's favourite son alienated me for good when he recorded that ultra-schmaltzy duet with Barbra Streisand back in '96, "I Finally Found Someone". Some errors in judgement are forgiveable; others not so much.

So I continued on my way to the Vogue Theatre a few doors down and lined up with all the other Motorhead freaks, many of whom were wearing black t-shirts bearing slogans like "Everything Louder Than Everything Else". I'd learned from previous experience that the British power trio was a threat to anyone's hearing, so, realizing that deaf rock critics have trouble finding work these days, I'd picked up a $2.99 pack of earplugs to be on the safe side. Little did I know that the band was selling their own earplugs at the merch table for just two bucks.

The first time I ever saw Motorhead live was at the Kerrisdale Arena back in '81, when the British metal monsters were opening for Ozzy Osbourne on his Blizzard of Oz tour (R.I.P. Randy Rhoads). At that point Motorhead featured the original lineup of bassist-vocalist Lemmy Kilmister, guitarist Fast Eddie Clarke, and drummer Phil "Filthy Animal" Taylor. Nowadays, Kilmister is accompanied by guitarist Phil Campbell and drummer Mikkey Dee, but other than that nothing has changed. It's still three dudes blasting out the raunchiest brand of thrashy metal known to man. Motorhead's 90-minute set was fueled by awesome tunes like "Ace of Spades" and "Killed By Death"; the rowdy racket caused the grown men in front of me to lose it and start violently play-fighting with each other. They were careful not to spill their beer, of course.

Caught up in the sheer rockingness of it all I didn't bother to use my precious earplugs, and the result of that decision wasn't evident until I arrived home after midnight. There was no ringing in my ears, just a constant whooshing, wind-tunnel noise that made me think Lemmy must have been right when he'd proclaimed, "We are Motorhead! We play rock 'n' roll!"