Published on Feb 27, 1997
You can call Motorhead anything you want – call them loud, call
them raucous… hell, call them ugly – but don’t you dare call them
quitters.
The year is 1993. Ian “Lemmy” Kilmister and crew have just been
booted from their umpteenth label in a career spanning back to
1975. The fools this time around: WTG, a subsidiary of Epic. (In
retrospect, at least Motorhead didn’t go down with the ship; WTG
folded operations shortly thereafter.) Without a label again,
Kilmister worked up a good head of anger, took the lads into the
studio, and bashed out one of their best efforts in a period where
there hasn’t been a bad album for some time.
Remembering the name he originally wanted to crown Motorhead
with after he got fired from British space/psychadelic act
Hawkwind, Kilmister had the appropriate name for their new album –
Bastards.
(Editor’s note: This disc – once one of the hardest to find in
Motorhead’s discography – was re-released by Metal-Is Records in
2001.)
Led once again by the powerful dual-axe attack of Phil Campbell
and Wurzel, Kilmister saddles up with his omnipresent Rickenbacker
bass and slams the listener’s head against the speaker with the
first notes of the opening track, “On Your Feet Or On Your Knees.”
On this album, Motorhead begins moving a little closer to the
fringes of speed metal, a genre they inspired. Making his second
appearance on disc with the band, drummer Mickey Dee has injected
new life-blood into this band that was showing no signs of slowing
down. His frentic double-bass work seems to push his bandmates into
new, uncharted areas.
But just when you think you’re about to snap your neck off,
Kilmister brings the tempo to a screeching halt with the powerful
ballad, “Don’t Let Daddy Kiss Me,” a song which will haunt you,
even after several listens. While Kilmister is no Michael Bolton
(thank God), he shows he still has quite a range of emotions in his
raspy vocals. (Kilmister has been including a ballad on Motorhead
albums since
1916; this is probably his best in this genre.)
Probably the best track on
Bastards is “Born To Raise Hell,” a down-and-dirty boogie
that is some of the freshest songwriting the band has shown since
Orgasmatron back in 1986. “Death Or Glory” is a sign that
Lemmy, though pushing 50 at this time, still had the young heart of
the fans that adore him.
About the only negative thing I find with
Bastards is that some of the songwriting has regressed to
the way it was around the time the band cut
1916. The styles are the same, the moods are the same – and
it just doesn’t always sound fresh.
But this is a small complaint about an otherwise very powerful
album.
Bastards is proof that all the “dinosaurs” aren’t dead, and
the ones that are around you better treat with lots of respect.