I finally watched that Lemmy documentary. I suppose it was okay, though it was mostly a bunch of talking heads of dumb LA Rock Dudes like Dave Navarro and guys from Poison and stuff saying things like “I dunno, man…Lemmy is just like…pure fucking metal.” Their input was not real incisive, but it was honestly meant, I guess.
Lemmy comes across as a fairly nice guy, despite being a gnarly old dude with a crazy moustache who wears cavalry hats with skulls and iron crosses on them. He claims to have had sex with something like a thousand women—an impressive number to be sure—but at the same time somehow doesn’t seem to be bragging about it: he claims that, considering his age and the fact that he’s never been married, it’s not that high of a number, and I guess he’s right. But I’ve crunched the numbers, and assuming he lost his virginity at say, fifteen (which seems likely enough: this is Lemmy after all), then the figure comes to something like 2.78 women a week, which, sure, is feasible, but his modesty rings just a little false. Also, in spite of this track record, he doesn’t come off as some kind of misogynist asshole like Gene Simmons. He’s a funny, somewhat insightful dude, and really carries off that whole Keith RIchards charming-pirate-rogue thing.
What those dumb LA Rock Dudes won’t tell you, is that Lemmy also comes across as a really lonely sort of guy: he lives alone in an incredibly modest (900 bucks a month!) apartment in Los Angeles, a location chosen mainly for its proximity to the Rainbow Room, a bar where skeezy LA Rock Dudes have hung out for centuries, and where he goes and sits alone and plays the bar trivia game for hours at a time. He apparently has no close friends, no family apart from a son who he refers to in the most touching moment of the film as the thing he values most, and no significant other. It’s clear he is a Lone Wolf Who Values His Freedom…but at what cost??