MOTÖRHEAD
Stage Fright DVD
Steamhammer/SPV
· DVD provides fans with hours of live footage from this iconic metal band.
A Motörhead live show is an experience never to be forgotten – a spectacle so fast, tight and intense, the human ear teeters a mere decibel away from registering their barrage of sound as indecipherable white noise. For true fans, that’s perfection.
Some attempts to capture that on CD, i.e. 1981’s No Sleep Til Hammersmith, are definitive testaments to Motörhead’s live show. But others, like 2004’s Live at Brixton, are reminders that the raw-throated gargle of front man Lemmy, not to mention the bowel-rupturing buzz of his bass, are highly susceptible to the muddying qualities of a poor recording. Which is why Stage Fright is a treasure for true Motörhead fans.
Stage Fright captures the Great Warted One (Lemmy) and his two long time cohorts, guitarist Phillip Campbell and drummer Mickey Dee, in Germany at Philipshalle in 2004, just shy of Motörhead’s 30th anniversary. After 30 years, Lemmy’s voice is a road-worn, alcohol-pitted rasp, the guitar assaults your cochlea like a rain of anvils and the drumming is the gratuitous display of a hyper-showoff. In other words, their sound is virtually unchanged – and rendered perfectly.
Boasting Dolby Digital 5.1 sound, stellar multi-camera cinematography and bright, crisp lighting, Stage Fright is great no-frills concert videography (matching Motörhead’s approach to playing). The rest of the magic comes from the band. Varying their standard set list slightly, they pile up plenty of musthaves – "No Class," "Ace of Spades" and "Killed by Death," for example, and include cult faves like "R.A.M.O.N.E.S," and "Metropolis" for a grand total of 20 tracks. The nuances of Lemmy’s bark, Campbell’s squelched guitar and Dee’s frantic double-kick come through clear as a bell, leaving you with one thought; man, I wish I was at this concert.
Niggling details – the accompanying disc, devoted mostly to testimonies from the longtime road crew, an interview with the band and the making of this DVD, is for die-hards only. Is the crew really that addled and old or does life with a coke-and-speed fiend like Lemmy do that to you? The band’s cook, reminiscent of the lard-iffic sidekick in Shaun of the Dead, is particularly loathsome. If British filmmaker Guy Ritchie adapts the next Irving Welsh novel, he should be in it.
Then there’s the same tired onstage banter. "Hello, we are Motörhead and we play rock ’n’ roll," is forgivable because it’s essentially become their own "Hello, I’m Johnny Cash," but stop asking if it’s loud enough. If you’re still selling records after 30 years, people are hearing you loud and clear. Or at least they could beforehand.
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