The noise in my ears, after a concert on Fields of Rock in 2007, never completely left me since. I have a daily reminder at that gig by the tattoo the monsters of decibels, Motörhead, got me on my eardrums. Its frontman, Lemmy Kilmister, was except a musician who was easily to be underestimated, a man of great humor. Citing from a long life of Rock & Roll (without Motörhead no trash metal but they were playing rock & roll, not heavy metal) he and his bandmates threw one after the other hardrock anthem in our faces. Providing every song with an introduction that would make Tommy Cooper proud (“Our next song – if you ever want to have children – don’t dance to it!”). And so we went home, with our ears drilled and our souls cleansed. Because under that big moustache, on that square jaw face with two large moles, always was a heart as big and full of good intentions as it was beating the rhythm of the ultimate rock and roll song.
May he Rock In Peace forever.
I wish you luck, babe. I hope you find a dream and it comes true.