White Line Fever: The Autobiography
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One of music's most notorious frontmen leads a headbanging, voyeuristic odyssey into sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll that rivals Motley Crue's The Dirt and Aerosmith's Walk This Way. He made Keith Richards look like a choirboy and Mick Jagger look like a nun. And as the head of the legendary band Motorhead, he ploughed his way through so many drugs, so many women, and so much alcohol, that he gave a whole new meaning to the term Debauchery. And he changed the face of music, conquering the rock world with such songs as Ace of Spades, Bomber, and Overkill and inventing a whole new form of music--speed metal. At the age of 57, Lemmy Kilmister remains a rock icon, both for his monumental talent and his hedonistic lifestyle. In White Line Fever, he recounts his incredible, pleasure-filled, and death-defying journey through music history. Born on Christmas Eve, 1945, in Wales, to a vicar and a librarian, Ian Fraser Kilmister learned early, he as he forthrightly puts it, what an incredible pussy magnet guitars were. A teenager at the birth of rock 'n' roll, Lemmy idolized Elvis and Buddy Holly and soon joined a band of his own. He would eventually head to London, where he became a roadie for Jimi Hendrix, played in Opal Butterfly, and joined space rockers Hawkwind's lineup in 1971. Four years later, speedfreak Lemmy was fired from the band for doing the wrong drugs. Vowing to form the dirtiest rock 'n' roll band in the world, he formed Motorhead, arguably the heaviest and loudest heavy metal band to ever take the stage. During their twenty-seven-year history, Motorhead would go on to release twenty-one albums, including the #1 record No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith and would earn a Grammynomination. Lemmy would also cheat death on more than one occasion, most notoriously in 1980, when his doctor told him, I cannot give you a blood transfusion because normal blood will kill you...and your blood would kill another human being, because you're so toxic. But through more than two decades of notorious excess, Lemmy has lived to tell the warts-and-all tale of a life lived over the edge. White Line Fever, a tour of overindulgence, metal, and the search for musical integrity, offers a sometimes hilarious, often outrageous, and always unbridled ride with the leader of the loudest rock band in the world."
record’s release. For months they fed us numerous lies, while still keeping us signed to the label. That, of course, kept us from being able to record with any other company. They wound up putting out On Parole four years later, long after we’d finally been released from our contract. They claimed that the UA staff had turned over and the new people had a new attitude towards the record. Strangely enough, their change of heart came just about the time we were starting to become really successful.
say, they are an excellent bunch. We really enjoyed doing ’em. Those were good times; we were winning, and we were younger, and we believed it. The older you get, the less you can believe. It’s not your fault, you know. It just comes to you that everything isn’t corn flakes and skittles and beer. It’s a jungle out there. But I never cared about it when I was young. I wasn’t starving, you see, and I was having a good time. It certainly beats high-paid plumbing! Like always, there were a lot of
it?’ It wasn’t long after that Paris trip that I was expelled from school. I played truant with two of my friends. We went on a train to the other side of the island for the afternoon and came back in time for the bus home. But as luck would have it, some bastards from another class saw us on the platform and turned us in. There’s always a snitch, isn’t there? So I was taken up before the headmaster. He was a real moron, a do-nothing. I think he became headmaster because he was too old to be a
play it for you! But really, the whole situation was tragic. Bastards was one of the very best albums we ever did and it just vanished completely. It’s just so disappointing, when you pull out all the stops for an album and you’re really thrilled with it and nobody else cares, especially not your own record company. We couldn’t even get ZYX to pay for promotional copies. Our publicist, Annette Minolfo, asked for 200 CDs to give to DJs and press and they said no, it was too expensive. Too
worked at Hewitt’s Riding School at Benlech on Anglesey, where we pulled the Girl Guides! Goldie had his own plans for the evening. Me and my mate Krystof with our horses. Simon House, Dave Brock, self, Nik Turner and Simon King: Hawkwind. We were probably trying to levitate or something. Rehearsal for unlimited Whoopee – 1971. This is the picture they put on the front of the NME to advertise the Space Ritual Tour – without any of the others. I’d been in the band ten months! Ho Ho! Paul, my