i was thinking just the other day about the music that gets you out of a rut. the sound that permeates somehow, even when you find yourself low. there's something undoubtedly healing about dancing, about movement, and the music i had in mind yesterday was more along those lines. music saves you. so much.
earlier today, it was announced motorhead guitarist phil campbell died at only 64. i couldn't believe my eyes. it wasn't just the many many anthems and lessons motorhead gave me (though those alone would be enough to fill a life), but i'm a huge fan of phil's activity after lemmy's death in 2015.
together with his three sons and different vocalists, he helmed the band phil campbell and the Bastard Sons (a joke i understand his wife found in poor taste, but hey). this band has been, for me, a beacon through dark times. i've followed them through several countries in europe. have seen them playing motorhead sets, but frankly, i wasn't too keen. i love motorhead, but love also their own stuff. it's too good to cover up with the songs of a different band. i don't really remember the first time i saw them live, but must've been early on...2017? 2018? i think they were headlining a tour and ugly kid joe were opening for them. or was it the other way around? i know i found them through whit, which seems fair. i went to see them both alone and with my family several times, and felt terrific each time. they weren't just...a band. they weren't just a project to keep busy after "the big one" left the stage, as often happens with remaining band members when a vocalist dies. they were proper rock n roll. loud, dirty, angry.
i remember standing in the front row at 19 at this hectic fair-type festival outside Milan and Phil smiling down at me. that summer, playing them on repeat across italy.
remember arriving late at the show in london and forcing our way through the crowd, my brother who was a kid at the time falling asleep next to some dude on a couch on the venue balcony. having trailed numerous venues across europe with a once small kid in tow, i've found time and time again rock fans are the coolest, kindest, warmest crowd you can imagine.
remember going to see them in germany somewhere, being pushy and talking straight to the band (extremely courteous and kind, of course), as i only had a ticket for their show in a different german city, but not this one and wanted to see them on that night as well. i got in somehow, and was feeling extremely lost and fragile at the time. and getting this great unleashing of rage toward the person who'd done me wrong, but of freedom also. nothing's quite so bad when you've got good music playing real loud.
last summer, they came to play the romanian seashore but i was otherwise occupied. i was sorry to miss them. i'm sorry now for thinking oh, there'll be plenty of more times. there weren't, apparently.
it seems strange to feel so affected by the loss of an artist (though, i think, only to people who don't understand art). the whole point of it, i would say, is to create a very specific, very intimate kind of connection with the audience. well, one of its purposes at least.
not a lot of people survive so well the loss of a band of motorhead's caliber. most don't. most disappear. phil didn't, and that's quite commendable.
strange. i was in a record store just yesterday, thinking about getting a motorhead record. remember seeing one specific title, and underneath, saying it was actually phil who wrote it. now gone.
well. i'm sure he's there with lem now. but still, coulda used your energy here on earth, phil. rip.
