Read Online White Line Fever: Lemmy: The Autobiography by Lemmy Kilmister - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lemmy Kilmister
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we, greedy bastards that we were, dug in immediately. But it wasn’t amphetamine, it was atropine sulphate – belladonna. Poison. We’d all done about a teaspoonful of it, which is like 200 times the overdose, and we went berserk, the whole lot of us.
I was walking around with a TV under my arm, talking to it. Somebody else was trying to feed the trees outside his window. It was really interesting for a while, actually. Then we all passed out and somebody called Release, the firm with the free drug rescue van, and they loaded us all in the back like bundles of wood and took us to the hospital. I woke up in this bed and I could see through my hand. I could see the wrinkles in the sheet under it. Then I saw the institution walls. ‘Fuck me!’ I thought. I was convinced I’d landed in the loony bin. Then I realized it was a normal hospital because the sleeves on the jacket weren’t long enough. And I saw, across from me, my friend Jeff, just waking up.
‘Psst! Jeff!’
‘What?’
‘We’re in hospital.’
‘Wow.’
‘We’ve got to get out of here. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Be quiet!’
So we got out of bed and I was just pulling up the jockeys when:
‘AAAAARGHH! THEY’RE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!’
And he was leaping and screaming, eyes like organ stops, ‘Worms and grubs and ants – WAAARGH!’
I got back in bed.
Eventually the doctor showed up. ‘If we’d got to you in another hour, you would have been dead.’
I was thinking, ‘I bet you’re sorry, you miserable bugger.’
He said we’d had the antidote, and that it would take a while to wear off. Well, it took two weeks and it was a really strange time. I mean, I would be sitting, reading a book, and I’d turn to page 42 – but there was no book. Or I’d walk down the street, thinking I was carrying a case and suddenly – oops! I’d have nothing in my hand. Weird . . . but interesting. Not interesting enough to do it again, though!
Finally, after dossing around for some months, I wound up in another band, Opal Butterfly. I met their drummer, Simon King, at a place called the Drug Store in Chelsea. The Drug Store was a big flash gaff, about three floors high. There was a restaurant at the top and a boozer on the ground floor and a record store in the basement. All these boutiques and other stores, too. It was one of the first mall-type places. It was rather expensive, but it was an all-right place. The guys in Opal Butterfly used to hang out there to drink, and I hooked up with Simon and just sort of drifted into the band. I don’t really know why I was hanging out with him – I never got along with him all that well. But you will be hearing more about Simon later.
Anyhow, Opal Butterfly was a good band, but they never wentanywhere. They’d been around for years when I got in and it was only a few months after that that they gave it up. One of the guys, Ray Major, went on to be in Mott the Hoople. The break-up turned out to be rather timely, because it was only a couple of months later that I wound up in Hawkwind.
CHAPTER FIVE
speedfreak
M y association with Hawkwind began with Dikmik. The ‘instrument’ he played in the band was a small box with two knobs that sat on a card table. It was called a ring modulator, but it was actually an audio generator that went out of human hearing at both high and low end. If it went up, you would lose your balance and fall down and vomit; if it went down, you shit your pants. You could make people have epileptic fits with this contraption. On stage, Dikmik could pick out the audience members who were susceptible. When we were playing in Hawkwind together, I’d go up to him and say, ‘Any good ’uns?’ He’d say, ‘Yeah, that guy there. See that?’ And he’d twist the knob – hrummmmm – and the guy would start flopping about. Amazing things you can do with sound. But of course, we could never tell for sure if it was the audio generator or if it was because we’d spiked all the
I was walking around with a TV under my arm, talking to it. Somebody else was trying to feed the trees outside his window. It was really interesting for a while, actually. Then we all passed out and somebody called Release, the firm with the free drug rescue van, and they loaded us all in the back like bundles of wood and took us to the hospital. I woke up in this bed and I could see through my hand. I could see the wrinkles in the sheet under it. Then I saw the institution walls. ‘Fuck me!’ I thought. I was convinced I’d landed in the loony bin. Then I realized it was a normal hospital because the sleeves on the jacket weren’t long enough. And I saw, across from me, my friend Jeff, just waking up.
‘Psst! Jeff!’
‘What?’
‘We’re in hospital.’
‘Wow.’
‘We’ve got to get out of here. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Be quiet!’
So we got out of bed and I was just pulling up the jockeys when:
‘AAAAARGHH! THEY’RE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!’
And he was leaping and screaming, eyes like organ stops, ‘Worms and grubs and ants – WAAARGH!’
I got back in bed.
Eventually the doctor showed up. ‘If we’d got to you in another hour, you would have been dead.’
I was thinking, ‘I bet you’re sorry, you miserable bugger.’
He said we’d had the antidote, and that it would take a while to wear off. Well, it took two weeks and it was a really strange time. I mean, I would be sitting, reading a book, and I’d turn to page 42 – but there was no book. Or I’d walk down the street, thinking I was carrying a case and suddenly – oops! I’d have nothing in my hand. Weird . . . but interesting. Not interesting enough to do it again, though!
Finally, after dossing around for some months, I wound up in another band, Opal Butterfly. I met their drummer, Simon King, at a place called the Drug Store in Chelsea. The Drug Store was a big flash gaff, about three floors high. There was a restaurant at the top and a boozer on the ground floor and a record store in the basement. All these boutiques and other stores, too. It was one of the first mall-type places. It was rather expensive, but it was an all-right place. The guys in Opal Butterfly used to hang out there to drink, and I hooked up with Simon and just sort of drifted into the band. I don’t really know why I was hanging out with him – I never got along with him all that well. But you will be hearing more about Simon later.
Anyhow, Opal Butterfly was a good band, but they never wentanywhere. They’d been around for years when I got in and it was only a few months after that that they gave it up. One of the guys, Ray Major, went on to be in Mott the Hoople. The break-up turned out to be rather timely, because it was only a couple of months later that I wound up in Hawkwind.
CHAPTER FIVE
speedfreak
M y association with Hawkwind began with Dikmik. The ‘instrument’ he played in the band was a small box with two knobs that sat on a card table. It was called a ring modulator, but it was actually an audio generator that went out of human hearing at both high and low end. If it went up, you would lose your balance and fall down and vomit; if it went down, you shit your pants. You could make people have epileptic fits with this contraption. On stage, Dikmik could pick out the audience members who were susceptible. When we were playing in Hawkwind together, I’d go up to him and say, ‘Any good ’uns?’ He’d say, ‘Yeah, that guy there. See that?’ And he’d twist the knob – hrummmmm – and the guy would start flopping about. Amazing things you can do with sound. But of course, we could never tell for sure if it was the audio generator or if it was because we’d spiked all the
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