Back in their halcyon days of the late-1970s and early '80s, Motorhead used to have a promotional slogan which said: "If we moved in next to you, your lawn would die."
After three hard-living decades on the road, most bands would probably have died as well, but as Motorhead's 30th anniversary tour stormed into town, Lemmy and Co gave 90 minutes of compelling evidence that they are very much alive and kicking.
A sold-out crowd of metal fans ranging in age from about 12 to...well, almost as old as Lemmy, were treated to a storming set from "the loudest band on the planet."
Those of us who can remember them in the late 70s enjoyed to old favourites like No Class and Metropolis while the teenaged crowd-surfers downstairs pogoed to the likes of Killers, R.A.M.O.N.E.S ("a sad song 'cos they're all dead now," noted Lemmy) and In The Name of Tragedy.
It was all, of course, ear-splittingly loud and fast but the wonderful thing about Motorhead, unlike too many speed-metal bands, is that they play recognisable songs.
Ace of Spades wasn't a top-ten hit for nothing and in one glorious moment as the set reached its climax, I felt a sense of what it must have been like watching rock pioneers like Little Richard or Chuck Berry at full tilt. They are still that good.
The encore opened with Whorehouse Blues from their current album, Inferno which saw drummer Mikkey Dee and guitarist Phil Campbell wielding acoustic guitars to accompany Lemmy's whisky-soaked growl and soaring harmonica blasts.
It finished in a snow-white blizzard of strobe lights with a quite magnificent version of Overkill.
No Bomber, no Motorhead but a 30-year back catalogue means you can't have everything.
I once saw their classic No Sleep till Hammersmith album from 1978 described as the perfect one-lesson course in hard rock.
Nearly 28 years on, if a little green man from Mars appeared at my front door and asked me to tell him about hard rock, I would still tell him to go and see Motorhead.