Motörhead 

The Wörld is Yours

You ever have that dream where you're riding in Lemmy's side-car shooting Nazis in the face while his throat bellows hot coals into the sky instantly broiling insidious Luftwaffe aircraft flying above? If not, you will after listening to the bloody amaranthine crust of Lemmy's vocals on "Born to Lose." But this ain't just the Lemmy show. The 35-year-old power-trio mule-kicks off the album with an elephantine riff big enough to topple nations, past and present. Iterations of double bass drums and overdriven-to-oblivion guitar riffs careen to a chorus that guarantees 120 fist-pumps-a-minute. Absolute "rawk."

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On "I Know How to Die," the seemingly immortal 65-year-old delivers, with little irony, the lines, "No I ain't no angel, broken wings don't fly / I know the law, I know how to die," as the band kicks butts and stomps nuts in the gritty way that only four-on-the-floor rock and roll can.

Lemmy's lyrics typically abhor humanity, but "Brotherhood of Man," gets right to the album's crux, "We kill for money, wealth, and lust, for this we should be damned / We are a disease upon the world, brotherhood of man." This is Motörhead's world; we're just contaminating it.

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