Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are cranking
the volume way past 11. We're looking at a stack
of sources that don't just tell the story of
a rock star. They basically outline the architectural
blueprints for Heavy Metal as we know it. It's
definitely a loud one today. I'm excited to get
into these discography records and biographies
with you. Yeah, me too. We are talking about
Edward Alan Clark. But if you were around in
the late 70s or early 80s, You probably knew
him better as Fast Eddie Clark. Right, the guitarist
for the classic lineup of Motorhead. Exactly.
And looking at the materials you sent over the
stakes of this particular deep dive feels surprisingly
heavy. Because when Clark passed away in January
2018, it wasn't just the loss of a musician.
It marked the definitive end of an era. It really
did. You have to remember that classic trio,
Lemme Kill Mr. Filth. Filthy Animal Taylor and
Fast Eddie Clark, they were a singular force.
And with Eddie's passing, he was the last of
that specific brotherhood to go. The final curtain.
So today, our mission for you, the listener,
is to unpack the career of the man who defined
that dirty, gritty sound. We need to figure out
where that nickname actually came from. Spoiler
alert, it's not what you think. And we have to
dissect one of the most controversial breakups
in rock history. And we absolutely have to talk
about the houseboat. Oh, the houseboat is my
favorite part. It is such a weird detail. But
let's start with a name. Fast Eddie. I feel like
if you ask the average person on the street or
even a casual fan, they have a very specific
assumption about what that means. Naturally.
You hear Fast Eddie and you assume one of two
things. Either he is living a very high speed
hedonistic lifestyle, fast cars, fast women,
that whole trope, or he is a shredder. You know,
playing a million notes a second like he is trying
to break a land speed record. Right. You picture
him tapping on the fretboard like Van Halen or
something. But looking at the interviews and
the source material, Clark was actually pretty
annoyed by those assumptions. He spent half his
career correcting people. He did. He went on
record specifically to clear the air. He said,
quote, I didn't get the name Fast Eddie because
of any sex thing. Which honestly is probably
for the best. Probably. But he also clarified
the musical side of it. And this is fascinating
because it gives you a real insight into how
Motorhead actually worked sonically. He said
it was just that I could play one note in a solo
really fast. Wait, just one note? Just one? It
wasn't about complex scales, it was about tremolo
picking. Okay, let's unpack that for a second.
Because when you listen to those old records
like Overkill or Ace of Spades, it is just a
massive wall of noise. Why did he need to play
that one note so fast? You have to look at who
he was playing with. You had Lemmy on bass, but
Lemmy didn't play bass like a normal bass player.
He cranked the treble, added massive distortion,
and played chords. He took up a huge amount of
the sonic frequency. So it was basically a rhythm
guitar played on a bass. Exactly. It was a thick,
muddy, aggressive wall of sound. If Clark had
tried to play intricate melodic lines or sweeping
arpeggios, they would have completely disappeared.
They would have turned to mush in the mix. So
the fast technique was basically a survival mechanism.
Precisely. To cut through Lemmy's distortion
and Phil Taylor's chaotic drumming, grooming,
Clark had to be percussive. He used that rapid
fire machine gun, picking on a single note to
pierce through the noise. It wasn't showing off.
It was literally the only way to be heard. That
is such a cool detail. It really changes how
you hear the songs now. It's not just rocking
out. It's a tactical decision. But before he
was the guy fighting for sonic space in the world's
loudest band, he was just a kid from Twickenham
trying to make it happen. And failing, honestly.
Yeah, let's talk about the struggle, because
the timeline here is brutal. He starts young,
15 years old, playing in local bands like The
Bitter End. But then he hits this period in the
mid -70s where it seems like he just couldn't
catch a break. It is the graveyard of almost
famous bands. He joined a band called Zeus led
by Curtis Knight. They were a blues -brog outfit.
Glock actually recorded an album with them called
The Second Coming back in 1974. He even wrote
a track called The Confession. So he was putting
in the work. But it didn't stick. No, it didn't.
So he moves on to a band called Blue Goose. Then
he forms a band with the incredibly ironic name
of Continuous Performance. Which, according to
the notes, was not continuous at all. Not even
a little bit. They failed to get a record deal
and split up by early 1975. And this is the moment
where the story usually ends for most musicians.
They try, they fail, they get a real job. And
Clark did. That's the part that blows my mind.
He basically quit the industry. The sources say
he was working on refitting a houseboat. It's
a great image, isn't it? The future icon of heavy
metal holding a sander covered in sawdust fixing
up a boat on the Thames. He had apparently completely
given up on the dream. But as fate would have
it, the houseboat is exactly where the dream
came back to life. Although I have to say, looking
at these biographies, the how is a little murky.
We have conflicting stories here. Welcome to
rock and roll history. Reliability is not the
strong suit. So story A, he is working on the
houseboat. He meets a drummer named Phil Taylor,
who is also working on the houseboat. Right.
Filthy animal Taylor, he had just joined this
new scrappy band called Motorhead. They get to
talking while working. Phil realizes Clark can
play and says, hey, come jam with us. It's the
blue collar working man version of the story.
I like that version. It feels gritty. But then
there is story B, which comes from Lemmy's authorized
biography. And this one involves a receptionist.
A receptionist named Gertie, yes. According to
Lemmy Clark was romantically involved with Gertie
at the time. She worked at a rehearsal studio
where Motorhead was trying to get their act together.
The story goes that she is the one who badgered
them into giving her boyfriend a shot. So it
was either serendipity on a boat. or a girlfriend
networking on his behalf. Whichever it was, the
outcome is the same. Clark walks into a converted
brewery in Chelsea, a place called the Furniture
Cave Plugs in his guitar, and the room explodes.
The chemistry must've been instant. It was undeniable.
And that kickstarted what is arguably one of
the most impressive runs in hard rock history.
I mean, just look at the discography we have
here. Motorhead overkill bomber. Ace of Spades,
No Sleep Till Hammer, Smith, Iron Fist. That
is five years of absolute gold. It is the definition
of a classic run, and Clark was central to that.
He wasn't just the guitar player standing in
the shadows. He was writing riffs, he was shaping
the sound, and he was even singing. That surprised
me. The notes mention he sang lead vocals on
tracks like Beer Drinkers and Hell Razors and
Step Down. But he didn't like it. He hated it.
He claimed to despise singing lead. If you watch
the music video for Step Down, you can actually
see him looking uncomfortable. He wanted to be
the architect, not the front man. But that willingness
to step up when the band needed variety shows
how tight that unit was. He also did some backing
vocals and collaborated with Girls Schoolways.
Yes, under the name Head Girl. They did the St.
Valentine's Day Massacre EP together. It was
a massive hit. It was a real brotherhood. Yeah.
Which makes the next part of the story so much
harder to swallow. because 1982 rolls around
and everything falls apart. The Great Split.
This is the stuff of legend. They are on a tour
in the U .S. They are huge. But Clark leaves
the band. Now for years the story was that he
quit on principle. He was the artist who refused
to sell out. Right, the Stand By Your Man incident.
Let's explain that for the listener who might
not know. So Motorhead decides to do a collaborative
EP with the Plasmatics. Now, the Plasmatics were
a shock rock band. Their lead singer, Wendy O
'Williams, was famous for blowing up cars on
stage and wearing electrical tape instead of
clothes. It was very theatrical, very gimmick
heavy. And Clark, the blues rock purist, was
not having it. He hated it. He thought the production
was terrible, he thought the songs were bad,
and he felt that covering each other's songs
compromised Motorhead's integrity. He saw it
as a joke. So the narrative we have always been
told is, Eddie sees the decline, Eddie refuses
to play, Eddie quits. a noble exit. That's the
story that stuck. But later in life, specifically
right before he died, Clark started telling a
different version. And this one is much more
painful. This is where he claims he didn't quit.
He claimed he was pushed. He gave an interview
where he said, quote, notice, I do not call it
leaving, as it was not my choice. Wow. He pointed
the finger directly at Phil Taylor, the guy from
the houseboat. Clark believed that tensions had
been building since the Iron Fist album, which
Clark actually produced. He felt the band wasn't
happy with the sound and was looking for a scapegoat.
The Plasmatics thing was just the excuse they
needed to fire him. That is heartbreaking, especially
when you see that quote where he says he wanted
to die on stage with Motorhead. It really recontextualizes
that whole era. It wasn't just an artistic disagreement.
It was a personal betrayal. He felt his best
friends turned on him. And the band didn't stop.
They just replaced him. almost immediately. They
brought in Brian Robertson from Thin Lizzy. Wait,
didn't they offer the job to someone else first?
Yes, they actually offered it to Steve Kudlow
first. You might know him as Lips from the band
Anvil, but he turned it down. So they go with
Robertson, which historically speaking was a
weird fit. Very weird. Robertson was wearing
satin shorts and headbands while Lemmy was in
leather and bullets. The fans hated it. It just
proved you couldn't replace Eddie. Exactly. So
Eddie is out. He is 32 years old. He has been
kicked out of the band he helped build. But this
is where the resilience comes in. He doesn't
go back to sanding houseboats. He decides to
start a new band. And honestly, the story of
how this band formed is almost a comedy of errors.
The Fastway Saga. Okay, so he teams up with Pete
Way, the bassist from UFO, another legend. Right,
two rock titans looking for a fresh start. And
they name the band Fastway. Fast Eddie plus Pete
Way. Fastway, it's logical, it's snappy. It's
perfect branding. Until you find out what happened
to the Way part of Fastway. The ink is barely
dry on the press release. They are about to sign
a major deal with CBS Records. And Peteway gets
a phone call. It is Ozzy Osbourne. The Prince
of Darkness calls. And when Ozzy calls your answer,
Peteway quits the band to go play bass for Ozzy.
So you have a band called Fastway led by Fast
Eddie. But there's no way. It is ridiculous.
But here's the crazy part. CBS records signed
them anyway. That is wild. It shows how much
faith they had in Clark's talent. They basically
said, we don't care about the name or the bass
player. We want Eddie. So he just scrambled.
Big time. He had Jerry Shirley from Humble Pie
on drums, but he needed a singer. And this is
where Clark's ear for talent really shines. He
gets a cassette tape in the mail from a young
Irish kid named Dave King. A total unknown. Completely
unknown. But Clark hears something in the voice.
He pays to fly King over to London for an audition.
King walks in, sings, and gets the job. And despite
the chaos, despite the missing bass player and
the unknown singer. Fastway actually worked.
They worked really well. They weren't just a
rebound fling. They released a self -titled album
that did great numbers. They toured the U .S.
supporting ACDC in stadiums. And they had that
movie soundtrack, too. Trick or Treat. Yes! If
you grew up in the 80s, you know this movie.
It is a cult horror film where Ozzy plays a preacher
and Gene Simmons is a radio DJ. It is the most
80s thing that ever happened. And Fastway did
the soundtrack. They wrote the title track. They
did songs like After Midnight. It was a huge
success for them. But the sound was different,
right? It wasn't motorhead. No, it was much more
polished. It was bluesy, sure. But it fit in
with that mid -80s hard rock sound. It proved
that Clark wasn't a one -trick pony. He could
play the dirty gritty stuff, but he could also
write radio -friendly hooks. But even with that
success... It feels like the shadow of Motorhead
never really went away. It is like breaking up
with the person you were meant to be with. You
can date other people, you can be happy, but
that history is always there. It is. And to Kruk's
credit, he didn't let the bitterness consume
him forever. There was a thawing of relations
later in life. I was looking at his solo discography.
After Fastway split and reformed a few times
in 1994, he released an album called It Ain't
Over Till It's Over. And I noticed a very specific
name in the songwriting credits. Lemmy. So they
were back in the same room. They were. Lemmy
helped write and sing a track called Laugh at
the Devil. And honestly, just the title of that
song tells you everything. Laugh at the Devil.
It is like they were looking back at all the
chaos, the fighting, the drugs, the firing, and
just laughing about it. That is really touching.
It is nice to know they mended those fences.
And that reconciliation led to the big moment.
the one that every fan had been waiting for.
November 2014. Bearingham? The national indoor
arena. Motorhead is playing a show. They are
much older now. Lemmy's health is failing, though
he is powering through. And halfway through the
set, Fast Eddie Clark walks out onto the stage.
I can only imagine the noise in that building.
It must have been deafening. He strapped on a
guitar and they played Ace of Spades. The three
of them. Well, Phil Taylor wasn't there. He was
too ill at that point. But seeing Eddie and Lemmy
side by side treating licks on that song, it
was a spiritual reunion. And in hindsight, that
moment is so heavy, because it was basically
the goodbye. It was. Phil Taylor passed away
just a year later in November 2015. Lemmy followed
him a month after that in December. And suddenly,
Eddie was the last man standing. That must have
been incredibly lonely in a way, to be the sole
keeper of that memory. I imagine so. But he kept
playing. And interestingly, right at the end,
he went back to the start. What do you mean?
In 2014, around the same time as that reunion,
he released his final studio album, Make My Day
Back to Blues. Oh, I see. He went back to the
pre -motorhead sound. Exactly. He stripped away
the heavy metal, the hair metal, the arena rock,
and went back to the blues roots he started with
in bands like Zeus. It is like his career came
full circle. He started with the blues, sped
it up to invent thrash. polished it for the 80s,
and then slowed it back down for the end. And
the end came in January 2018. Pneumonia. He was
in the hospital and passed away at age 67. And
with him, the classic lineup was gone. Completely
extinguished. It really changes the experience
of listening to those records now. When you put
on No Sleep Till Hammersmith, it is not just
a live album. It is a historical document. It
has proved that this specific chemistry existed.
That is the key word chemistry. You can have
great players, but you cannot manufacture that
friction. The way Clark's fast -picking rubbed
against Lemmy's distorted chords that was lightning
in a bottle, you cannot replicate it. So as we
wrap this up, what does this all mean for you,
the listener? When we look at the life and riffs
of Fast Eddie Clark, what is the big takeaway
here? You know, I keep thinking about that split
in 1982. Whether he jumped or was pushed, the
core of the conflict was about standards. Standards?
Yeah. Clark looked at that collaboration with
the Plasmatics, something that was purely a commercial
cross -promotional move. And he said, this is
wrong. This isn't us. He was willing to lose
the biggest gig in the world because he felt
a cover song compromised the band's integrity.
Exactly. And think about that in the context
of today. We live in an era of constant collabs.
Everything is a brand deal. Every artist is trying
to cross pollinate to maximize engagement. If
a metal band did a song with a pop star today,
we would call it smart marketing. Right. we would
analyze the synergy. But Eddie Clark was stubborn.
He had an artistic line in the sand that he refused
to cross, even if it cost him everything. And
that kind of artistic stubbornness, that refusal
to dilute the brand, is incredibly rare today.
It leaves you with a provocative thought to mull
over. Is it better to be adaptable and successful,
or is it better to be principled and well -fired?
History remembers the principles. That is why
we are still talking about him. I think you are
right. Sometimes the most rock and roll thing
you can do is just say no. Absolutely. Well,
on that note, go listen to some Motorhead today.
But listen for that one note. Listen for the
tremolo picking, cutting through the noise. That
is Eddie. That is the sound. Thanks for joining
us on this deep dive. We will see you next time.
Keep listening.