Published Date: January 1, 2004
Publishing Co.: Citadel
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
“Everything was going to be wonderful and huge women would get a hold of me and do things to me with raw carrots – you know, shit like that. Of course, it didn’t happen quite that way.”
There is nothing quite like reading the adventures of a heavy metal god. Because do not forget kids, Lemmy is God. *Winks at Grab the Lapels*
Since the day he was born, Lemmy was bound to be different. I mean, he was Born to Raise Hell and he did it well. He always marched to the beat of a different drum and they were rock and roll drums. (Heavy metal drums did not exist yet.) Raised in the birthplace of the rock scene, Lemmy has tales to tell about bands that have long since been forgotten or remained infamous for all time. He had to tell their stories because Dead Men Tell No Tales.
You see what I’m doing here?
I’m not going to promise to stop because I have No Class.
There are definitely problematic things here. Lemmy admits them, but also excuses them, like sex with 16-year-olds back when no one cared about such things. I am not sure that is actually the case but this was before I was alive so it’s probably true to a degree.
This book covers his life up until around 2002 and he never wrote more about it despite continuing his adventures until he was Killed by Death in 2015.
I’m So Bad.
I Ain’t No Nice Guy.
White Line Fever is everything that you think it would be. Fast paced, drug riddled, sex laced, vulgar, rock and roll gold.