To some people, the continuing existence of Motörhead is one of life's impenetrable mysteries. These people have heard of Motörhead and maybe even know the title of a Motörhead song, but they just don't "get" Motörhead. Motörhead fans are a special breed. If you've ever punched a stranger in the face, puked out the door of a moving vehicle, casually swallowed the octagonal black pills handed you by a stranger or crapped on a seatless toilet in a doorless stall, you are probably a Motörhead fan. If you've performed all those acts before 3 p.m., your name is Lemmy and you should be onstage right now.
Anyway, if the preceding sounds at all appealing, it would behoove you to swim across the river and join the great unwashed horde of Motörhead's American Legion, which is even now circling the wagons around Pop's. The band that never sleeps (a little crank humor there) is promoting its new CD, but Motörhead would deserve your attention with or without a new album. The Motörhead name guarantees metal of the highest quality, as the group's plethora of live albums will attest. But if you need a little more convincing that Motörhead will put on a fan-fucking-tastic show, consider this: Sauget is just moments away from any number of titty bars, drug houses and meth labs. Lemmy will no doubt be firing on all eight cylinders before he even hits the stage. That magnificent bastard!