Published on Jan 1, 2002
I discovered hard rock when I was 14 years old… but I never
truly tasted hard rock until I was about 15 or 16, when I was
listening to Z-Rock in Chicago. I was happily sitting in my
bedroom, probably poring over the
Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue for the 500th time, when
this wonderful noise came blaring from my radio. “What the hell was
that?!?” I asked out loud to no one in particular, “and
where can I hear more?”
In the span of three minutes, Lemmy Kilmister and Motorhead
changed my life, thanks to their 1986 album
Orgasmatron. When I got the chance to meet Kilmister a few
years ago, the CD booklet to
Orgasmatron was one of the few things I begged him to
autograph (and which I promptly lost during the after-show… I’m
still pissed at myself for that). This CD might be 15 years
or so old now, but I still get a kick out of it, even if I do know
all the chord changes by heart. (I’m reviewing a 1986 version of
this album; Motorhead’s latest label, Sanctuary, brought out a
remastered version with three unreleased tracks recently. The CDNOW
link will take you to that album.)
This was the album that Motorhead fans had been praying for
after the band’s split with Bronze Records. The only full-length
album to feature Pete Gill on the drums, along with the debut of
twin-axemeisters Phil Campbell and Wurzel, it was a return to form
that had been merely hinted at on
No Remorse, Motorhead’s 1984 best-of. It had been four years
since
Iron Fist, Motorhead’s last studio album (and their last
with guitarist “Fast” Eddie Clarke). Would they still have the
magic? Could they still kick ass by just strumming their
guitars?
Two words: hell, yeah.
Orgasmatron, while a short Motorhead album, provides a
constant pummelling of the listener which they won’t want to have
stop.
Oh, sure, you could probably point out one or two weak spots –
the rushing of the bridge on “Doctor Rock,” “Running With The
Driver” and “Nothing Up My Sleeve” not quite being up to the same
level as the other tracks – but, in retrospect, that’s mere
nitpicking on a classic. Even in the one or two “lesser” songs is a
lot to celebrate.
There’s the one-two Bataan Death March stomp on your spinal
chord with “Deaf Forever,” the neck-snapping rhythms of “Mean
Machine” shake you like a leaf in a typhoon (though the live
version captured on
The Birthday Party still is superior in my mind), and the
eerie title track can still send shivers up my spine.
I could have written this review solely on the hundreds of times
I’ve listened to
Orgasmatron, but I pulled it out again and blared it just to
make sure I hadn’t missed a thing. Indeed, this disc sounds as good
today as it did in 1986, and should be one of the first CDs one
picks up when discovering all things Motorhead.
Orgasmatron was the first Motorhead album I ever bought…
and as long as Lemmy and crew keep things going, it sure as hell
won’t be the last one.