The Motorhead way: Lemmy’s social policy

Maev Kennedy

4 November 2005

The Guardian

The man’s been around for a while and it’s beginning to show: shoulders a little bowed, trademark sideburns now snow white. But if William Graham, the Conservativ e Welsh assembly member for South Wales East, looks every day of his 56 years, Lemmy - four years his senior, motormouth frontman of Motorhead, officially the loudest band in the world - was positively sparkling.

The politician (blue pinstripe suit, white shirt, blue tie, white rose) yesterday invited the musician (black cowboy shirt, hat, boots, jeans, beard, silver embroidered eagles, spurs, and chest hair) to the Welsh assembly in Cardiff, to give his opinions on drugs, based on a lifetime’s field research.

Mr Graham’s office said the meeting had been organised because Lemmy’s views seemed “too important to confine to 1.30am on the radio” - so often with small-hours listening you doze off and only remember half the argument.

Mr Lemmy - born Ian Fraser Kilmister in Stoke-on-Trent, son of a vicar who vanished before his first birthday, brought up by his mother and step father in north Wales - has poured scorn on heroin and heroin users, but has also described it as “the only drug I hate”. His drug of choice may now be Jack Daniel, but his glory days on speed are well documented and he has also described acid as his favourite drug.

As the metal detector gate bleeped its distress over the cowboy belt, assembly members - several checked that the invitation wasn’t a windup - secretaries, translators, catering staff, security, media and fans piled in. One politician, giggling like a schoolboy, dug a colleague in the ribs: “You and your ‘how do you do?’ You should have said ‘rock on!’”

The scrum had far outgrown the committee room, so an impromptu conference was held in the foyer. Lemmy took out two sheets of paper, apologising for using notes. Mr Graham looked politely expectant. Heroin was a killer, Lemmy said. Mr Graham nodded. Heroin made people into thieves and liars. Mr Graham nodded again. “There is only one answer,” Lemmy said, “legalise it.” Mr Graham, a former magistrate, blinked twice.

Lemmy continued remorselessly: locking up mainly peaceable young users not only ensured they were criminals when they came out, but that they were probably also brutally sodomised in prison. There were a few seconds’ stunned silence, before a chorus of voices asked Mr Graham if he agreed with his guest. “It’s certainly part of the debate,” Mr Graham said faintly.

Lemmy made a politicianly sidestep when asked if all other drugs should be legalised. “I’m not here to talk about other drugs. I haven’t got time. Heroin’s the only one I’ve seen someone die of.”

Out of the public gaze, they may have discovered other policy rifts. Mr Graham, chair of the school funding committee, has denounced Labour’s plans for school breakfasts for children in Wales as “a gigantic con”, declaring: “As we have argued, children are better off having breakfast at home with their families.”

Mr Lemmy’s views on family are just as trenchant: “As a lifestyle it sucks,” he told an interviewer. “I could never imagine looking at the same face over the cornflakes for the rest of my life.”

Mr Graham admitted he was not familiar with all of Mr Lemmy’s back catalogue, apart from the Ace of Spades. However, it turns out there are fewer than five degrees of separation between the South Wales Tories and the world of leather and ruptured eardrums.

Mr Graham’s researcher is Paul Williams, who once wrote lyrics for a Welsh light-heavy metal band called Touch, which way back in the 1970s was once the support act for Lemmy’s former band, Hawkwind, from which he was forcibly ejected after serving time in Canada for drug possession. He, it was, who invited Lemmy, on learning that he was in Cardiff for a concert last night.

Asked about his own musical tastes, Mr Graham said: “I have three children, I listen to what they’re playing. Westlife, Coldplay . . . as a good nonconformist, I like a good Welsh hymn of course.”

For his part Lemmy said: “I don’t believe in any politicians, if anything I’m more of an anarchist.”

That said, beats are not the strength of Aerial - the drumming is the least fresh part of it, unfortunately.