For those about to rock, we salute you. It was not an evening for the faint hearted at The New Theatre on Sunday, when Motorhead were in town preaching their unique brand of wall of sound heavy metal to the leather clad converted .
All the clichéd ingredients you would expect were present; vigorous headbanging, prolonged hum drum drum solos, guitarist promenading left and right, it was like watching a tennis match at times. And of course wall to wall leather and denim, off stage and on, heavy metal does what it says on the tin.
There was a certain revelry amongst the audience in being so ugly and painstakingly unkempt, Beer guts and greasy long hair were de rigueur; you could almost smell the Castrol GTX on their breath. The elegant backdrop of maroon and cream art deco splendour which is The New Theatre, with its polite dickey bowed ushers, made a bizarre contrast; you almost expected to see Noel Coward sipping a dry martini at the bar.
But Noel probably wouldn’t have approved of this show, far too macho and loud. And boy, wasn’t it loud, I reckon the building moved a few inches down George Street. Marlboro man Lemmy, with low slung bass and signature chinless beard still has the trademark gravely voice enough to strike terror into your heart - he really must gargle with broken glass and JD. Incongruous for the son of a vicar. The most striking on stage feature was the drum kit – bigger than the stage of The Zodiac. Drummer Mickey Dee spent the evening impersonating Animal from the Muppet Show, self indulgence clearly doesn’t faze Mickey.
Most of the set was from their new album “Kiss of Death” but spot the difference between new and old, there is no concept of time passing within heavy metal sub-culture. It is too easy to carp about how uncool this dinosaur rock is, but buried deep underneath the layers of feedback and coruscating tom toms lay some decent tunes, none better than “The Ace of Spades” and Thin Lizzy’s “Rosaleen”. The banal unplugged acoustic track “Whorehouse Blues” near the end sounded a bit daft and out of place.
Anyway, I’ve got to dash; I have an appointment with my GP about the wringing sound in my ears.
All the clichéd ingredients you would expect were present; vigorous headbanging, prolonged hum drum drum solos, guitarist promenading left and right, it was like watching a tennis match at times. And of course wall to wall leather and denim, off stage and on, heavy metal does what it says on the tin.
There was a certain revelry amongst the audience in being so ugly and painstakingly unkempt, Beer guts and greasy long hair were de rigueur; you could almost smell the Castrol GTX on their breath. The elegant backdrop of maroon and cream art deco splendour which is The New Theatre, with its polite dickey bowed ushers, made a bizarre contrast; you almost expected to see Noel Coward sipping a dry martini at the bar.
But Noel probably wouldn’t have approved of this show, far too macho and loud. And boy, wasn’t it loud, I reckon the building moved a few inches down George Street. Marlboro man Lemmy, with low slung bass and signature chinless beard still has the trademark gravely voice enough to strike terror into your heart - he really must gargle with broken glass and JD. Incongruous for the son of a vicar. The most striking on stage feature was the drum kit – bigger than the stage of The Zodiac. Drummer Mickey Dee spent the evening impersonating Animal from the Muppet Show, self indulgence clearly doesn’t faze Mickey.
Most of the set was from their new album “Kiss of Death” but spot the difference between new and old, there is no concept of time passing within heavy metal sub-culture. It is too easy to carp about how uncool this dinosaur rock is, but buried deep underneath the layers of feedback and coruscating tom toms lay some decent tunes, none better than “The Ace of Spades” and Thin Lizzy’s “Rosaleen”. The banal unplugged acoustic track “Whorehouse Blues” near the end sounded a bit daft and out of place.
Anyway, I’ve got to dash; I have an appointment with my GP about the wringing sound in my ears.