Motörhead | The Manticore Tapes | BMG

 

 In 1976, Motörhead solidified its definitive “Three Amigos” lineup with Lemmy Kilmister on bass and vocals, Fast Eddie Clarke on guitar, and Phil “Philthy Animal” Taylor on drums. Formed the previous year after Lemmy’s high-profile dismissal from Hawkwind, the band clawed its way through setbacks, label rejections, and shifting personnel before finding the chemistry that would define its sound for decades to come. With roots in hard rock, punk, and early metal, Motörhead forged a sound that blurred genre lines with raw immediacy and intensity. In August 1976, the trio entered Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s Manticore Studio in Fulham, capturing a foundational session that until now remained unheard.

“The Manticore Tapes” documents that early moment with clarity and historical weight. The material, rescued from the archives after nearly half a century, delivers primitive versions of songs that would later become synonymous with the band's reputation. The presence of multiple covers—“Leavin’ Here,” “The Watcher,” “Witch Doctor,” and others—reflects the band's formative influences, filtered through a loud, grimy, high-energy sound that’s distinctly theirs. “Motörhead,” carried over from Hawkwind, and early takes of “Iron Horse/Born To Lose” demonstrate how even at this embryonic stage, the band's intent was firmly locked in: fast, loud, and aggressive.

The alternate takes and instrumentals on Disc I offer a glimpse into the studio environment: unrefined, repetitive, but urgent. There’s no pretense or technical finesse here—just an attempt to document their live set in a controlled setting, with songs that feel like they could collapse at any moment but never quite do. The grit is tangible, and the lack of polish only reinforces its authenticity.

Disc 2, “Blitzkrieg On Birmingham ’77,” captured live in a cramped, chaotic venue, reinforces what these early years were truly about. The crowd noise, the cranked amps, the ragged edges of the band’s playing—it all breathes with a kind of chaotic unity. The live takes of “On Parole,” “City Kids,” and “White Line Fever” make clear that Motörhead was already becoming something more than a pub band, even if they didn’t fully realize it yet. Lemmy’s distinct vocal tone is defiant, Eddie Clarke’s playing sounds half-feral, and Phil Taylor drives everything with reckless, uneven energy.

The sound restoration is carefully handled, preserving flaws without obscuring fidelity. There’s hiss, bleed, and occasional distortion, but these imperfections add texture rather than detract from it. This is not a retrospective compilation built for comfort listening; it's an unearthed moment from a band unsure of its place but certain of its direction.

“The Manticore Tapes” represents the moment when the band first left a permanent mark on tape and carries its own weight. It captures Motörhead before myth overtook them—scrappy, raw, and barely hanging on. Almost fifty years later, these tapes finally step into the light, not as an attempt to rewrite history, but simply to preserve it.

Score: 8.6