Recorded by the original Motorhead lineup of Lemmy, Lucas Fox, and Larry
Wallis, On Parole is famous as the debut album that the band recorded
in 1975 -- only to be shelved by a U.K. label that simply couldn't understand
what all the noise was about. Produced by Fritz Fryer, a man whose past
with Merseybeat-era heroes the Four Pennies should have guaranteed at
least a little pop sensibility, On Parole contrarily turned in a bludgeoning
blur of riffs and roaring, a bare-fanged threat to the order of things,
a slobbering, slavering, three-headed monster that should have been strangled
at birth. UA did the next best thing. They decapitated it. On Parole was
buried, Motorhead were dropped, and, by year's end, the band had shattered.
And there the story should have ended. But Lemmy was made of sterner stuff
-- Motorhead not only had the temerity to return, they compounded their
audacity by scoring hit singles. By 1978, Motorhead were arguably the
biggest heavy metal band in the world. And On Parole didn't sound so distasteful
any more. Countless reissues followed, and here is another one, released
in 1997 as part of EMI's centenary celebrations. And that in itself is
a bit of a joke -- the last time the label celebrated Motorhead, it was
the day their contract went into the bin. This time, though, there's something
to cheer about. Before the Fryer sessions, Motorhead tried out some demos
with producer Dave Edmunds, a quartet of long-lost songs whose legend
has so increased in dimension that, umpteen reissues of On Parole later,
one would still trade one's first born for the chance to buy it one more
time, with the Edmunds sessions appended as a bonus. Well, here's your
chance -- and don't forget to pack up the diapers. The added songs themselves
are familiarity itself -- "On Parole," "City Kids,"
"Leaving Here," and "Motorhead" reappear not only
on the main album, but in various forms across so many other Motorhead
and Larry Wallis/Pink Fairies recordings. But the arrangements are devastating,
steeped in blues, drenched in booze, the highest octane pub rock of all.
No matter how well you think you know Motorhead, still it's nothing like
you're expecting. A true sonic symphony, this is Wagner with whiplash.
Imagine Edmund's own Subtle as a Flying Mallet if the mallet flew straight
through your head; think of "Girls Talk" if Courtney Love started
the conversation. Even more alarmingly, however, it makes promises that
Motorhead themselves could never keep and posits a future so far from
all that eventually transpired that the On Parole material itself sounds
like abject surrender, or at least foul betrayal, by comparison. The Motorhead
that people know and love threatened to take on the world. The Motorhead
here would simply have taken it over. No wonder they got canned.
(by Dave Thompson, All
Music Guide)
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