A photo of Motörhead used in an article published in SPIN (February 1986) by journalist Scott Cohen declaring the band was “The Loudest Band on Earth.”
 
On the evening of December 2nd, 1984, Motörhead took the stage at the Variety Theater in Cleveland, Ohio. The performance was so decibel-heavy it broke the previous live sound record set by The Who on May 31st, 1976 at The Valley in London. The Who’s appearance at The Valley clocked in at an ear-shattering 120 decibels and got the band into the Guinness Book of World Records. Motörhead’s gig measured 130 decibels, exceeding what is known as the “Threshold of Pain” or, 120 decibels. If you need to know exactly how loud that is, the noise level associated with the Threshold is the equivalent of the sound emitted by a goddamned jackhammer.

Manowar would briefly become the first band to take the title of “Loudest Band in the World” from The Who during a gig in Hanover, Germany, in October of 1984, pumping 129.5 decibels through ten tons of amplifiers. However, that measurement isn’t far off Manowar’s sound requirements in their contract rider, guaranteeing that the band will deliver at least 126 decibels anytime they play live. Still, even on their best day, Manowar wasn’t able to break Motörhead’s record-setting sonic blast so loud it cracked the Variety’s ceiling, while plaster fell on the crowd. To further reinforce how loud Motörhead was that night, a man living near the venue reported he was able to record the show from his living room. This was all witnessed by the packed house at the Variety, including a 19-year-old Motörhead super fan (as well as the adult author of several books of pop culture history) who might have one of the coolest heavy metal brags of all time. And, just perhaps, balls as big as his hero Lemmy Kilmister. His name is Joseph Lanza, forever known as the kid who pretended to be a rock journalist just so he could meet Lemmy. And it’s the kind of scheme heavy metal dreams are made of.

When Lanza heard Motörhead was headed to Cleveland during their Death on the Road Tour, he got the idea he could pass himself off as a journalist and get into the show for free. His first move was to phone Motörhead’s label at the time, Mercury. Amazingly, he got put through to someone who actually bought his story—one he concocted by wildly exaggerating circulation numbers of a publication called Negative Print, a fanzine with a circulation of several dozen copies run by his friend David James. Lanza told Motörhead’s people that Negative Print’s circulation was around 130,000, pretty good for a 10-page zine made at the local Kinkos for free when James’ friends were working behind the counter.

It wasn’t until 72 hours before the show when he was contacted by Mercury telling him he had the green light to interview Lemmy Kilmister, and would be given full press credentials. Lanza’s access to Lemmy and the band included their time at Shattered Records, a headbanger-friendly record store where he hung out with a massive group of fans, as the current configuration of Motörhead (Würzel, Phil Campbell, and Pete Gill) signed albums. He was as nervous as anyone else might have been, and perhaps more so as he wasn’t actually a journalist, just a kid who loved Motörhead. He was becoming increasingly worried that he’d be tossed out at any moment once he was discovered. Lanza tried to look the part without going too far; he had a tape recorder, a pen, and a bunch of notes. Then, just like in a bad dream, moments before he was about to interview Lemmy, the batteries in his tape-recorder died.
 

A photo of the Variety’s marquee the night Motörhead murdered the venue. Photo by Joseph Lanza. See more of Lanza’s images of Motörhead in Cleveland here.
 
A few minutes later Lanza was kicking back with Lemmy and a bottle of Jack Daniels. The notoriously good-natured Kilmister had recognized Lanza’s unease as a byproduct of his young age and inexperience. The vocalist chain-smoked and drank his ever-present Jack and Coke. According to Lanza, Lemmy didn’t even care about the interview, he was having fun just hanging out. After leaving the tour bus to head to the show, Lanza realized that he had lost his pass, leaving him no way to get into the gig. Luckily he spotted Lemmy headed into the Variety and caught up to him, telling him he had lost his pass. Ever the gentleman, Lemmy took off his and handed it to Lanza, telling him to use it as he was pretty sure they knew who he was.

Once inside, Lanza and 1,900 Motörhead fans collectively blew their eardrums out to the punishing sounds of the band. The once opulent theater has stood in the same place since 1927, but had since fallen into disrepair. And Motörhead’s louder-than-fuck performance didn’t help. Nor did the multiple encores that went on and on while plaster fell on people’s heads below. It wasn’t until a maintenance worker for the Variety rightly worried about the integrity of the building due to the ongoing noise level, and went to the breaker box and shut Motörhead down. This pissed off Lemmy, but the band decided to call it a night. The show would help magnify ongoing issues with the Variety, which in addition to the building’s decay, included reports of safety concerns and after-hours loitering by patrons of the club. The Variety would close in 1986, and restoration work to bring the historic theater back to life continues to this day.
 

Footage of Motörhead rehearsing for their appearance on ITV’s Saturday morning kids show “Saturday Starship” in October of 1984. According to Lemmy, people complained because the band started warming up at 8:30 AM in the station’s parking lot. Said Lem: “I don’t know what the problem was. 8:30 AM was the time they gave us to rehearse and they put the stage up in the parking lot for us.”
 
HT: Cleveland.com

Previously on Dangerous Minds:
Oral: The mysterious all-girl heavy metal band and their (maybe) connection to Lemmy Kilmister
Lemmy Kilmister gets ambushed by three of his ex’s on TV in the late 90s
New Motorhead video & Lemmy interview: ‘We’re arrogant bastards. We’re like a dose of crabs’
Motörhead trash a hotel room
In this Motörhead video game, Lemmy thwarts enemies with his Jack Daniels-fueled bad breath!
Böat of debauchery: Inside the Motörhead ‘Motörböat’ cruise