Armed with a Rickenbacker, Jack and smokes, Lemmy blasted through life louder than everyone else. He was defiant, smart and witty enough to crack up a statue. Lemmy was my Keith Richards.
I requested an interview with Gene Simmons, but was told he wasn’t scheduling press. Instead, I was told, he would carry my phone number with him and call if and when the mood struck. Naturally, I jumped every time the damn phone rang.