From the vaults: Motorhead – March Or Die (1992)
‘March Or Die’ was released at a time when Motorhead were rejuvenating their career, which had tailed off in the mid/late ‘80s following a series of poor business decisions and label woes. Lemmy moved to LA because it was the only city large enough to allow his legendary presence the full space to blossom, and the band were signed to Sony, a move which saw them feted with all of the media hype that could be garnered on ‘living legends’. Commercially speaking, Sony certainly pumped life into a career that was dead on its ass – but could the same be said creatively? ‘1916’ (1991) – Motorhead’s first Sony record – was certainly a clarion call, but ‘March Or Die’ is surely a record which shows that record companies should really leave bands alone.
What a difference a year makes. ‘1916’ certainly had some of its power marred by the shiny production with which it was lavished – a production typical of the time – but it at least featured all of the hallmarks which marks the ‘Head out as the ‘Head: speed, belligerence and downright gnarliness. ‘March Or Die’, in contrast, sounds like Motorhead after the snip. The production here was clean, crisp and overblown, and typical of that which major labels on other ‘legends’ on their rosters in these years such as Ozzy Osbourne (see ‘No More Tears’) and Alice Cooper (see ‘Hey Stoopid’) in attempt to garner the attention of teens hooked on the Sunset sound. The results are decidedly mixed: some of the riffs on ‘March Or Die’ tap into a sleazy vein, but some of them have a poise previously absent in Motorhead, and shake their tail feathers like cheap hookers. But the biggest sin here is the absence of PACE. Was it a ploy to get radio play? Whatever the case, it weakens the package. On ‘Too Good To Be True’, for example, you can hear the ‘50s rock ‘n’ roll that Lemmy adores, but it’s dialed down and over-packaged. The country smaltz of ‘I Ain’t No Nice Guy’ – which, in a calculated move to have a ‘hit’, features Ozzy and Slash – is more Manilow than Motorhead.
There’s certainly some good stuff, however. ‘Bad Religion’ is a crunchy shuffle of badass proportions; ‘Hellraiser’ is a juggernaut thudding its way into life; and ‘You Better Run’ is a 12-bar blues played by gunslingers which is unlike anything else in Motorhead’s catalogue. The cover of Ted Nugent’s ‘Cat Scratch Fever’ is also a motherfucker: slower and more predatory than the original, there is a real sense of menace in this greasy take on a classic. Do these moments save the whole? Perhaps not. ‘March Or Die’ is not a bad album, but it is a compromised one. Motorhead would never make the same mistake again, and they’ve spent the last 20 years delivering the best music of their career – great album after great album that no-one listens to. It’s a crying shame.