Motorhead, Treated "Whimsically"!
It’s old, it’s dark, it hides a thousand evils behind a facade of normality and drapes drawn against the sun. On a dull West London street it could be any old house, but it isn’t—it’s Motorhouse! Home of Lemmy, legendary Lemmy, the Lone Ranger of Metal and his tonto, Wurzel! A nasty little boy watches me walk up the front path, picking his nose.
Motorhead, Treated "Whimsically"!
Sylvie Simmons
by
It’s old, it’s dark, it hides a thousand evils behind a facade of normality and drapes drawn against the sun. On a dull West London street it could be any old house, but it isn’t—it’s Motorhouse! Home of Lemmy, legendary Lemmy, the Lone Ranger of Metal and his tonto, Wurzel! A nasty little boy watches me walk up the front path, picking his nose. Lemmy once said if he moved in next door to you the lawn would die, and it looks like the neighbor has, too.
As I’m thinking of the possibilities— install him in number 8 Downing Street and watch Maggie wither away—he appears at the door in a haze of smoke and Carlsberg. The little boy makes a perfect scale model of the World Cup football with the contents of his nose. Lemmy leads me inside...