R.I.P. Lemmy Kilmister

While I gleefully took the position to write a preview article to encourage everyone to go see Motörhead last September, I join the masses with great sadness to report that a god has died and his name is Lemmy. To reflect on that show, it was probably one of the longest days of my life.

Up at 6 a.m. to get to Dally In The Alley and set up to sell records with my coworkers, the day proved to be a somber see-saw of entertainment and exhausting interactions. I remember a part in the day where we actually chased patches of sun to stay warm, a highlight to say the least. But what really got me through the day was knowing that in just a few short hours I would be in the same room with one of the last true rock and roll deities.
Soon I was delivered to church with friends around me just as excited — and we took it all in. Never did I feel such energy from a band and from a crowd like that night. Even though we could see Lemmy struggle a bit through the set, he knew there was only love and appreciation for the short 30 min set. We knew he did it or us and for the love of rock and roll. I know my minuscule tribute wont compare to all the big name rock gods he called friends pouring their hearts out at this loss, but I’ll speak for most fans who are speechless and grieving.
We must al  pay personal tribute the way Lemmy would have wanted: play Motorhead LOUD, play HAWKWIND loud, play SAM GOPAL loud and most of all set all your pretentious opinions aside and play fucking rock and roll LOUD.

To Lemmy, I salute you: I’ll see you in hell, motherfucker.