Guest
Jailbait, started with a burp from Lemmy, is in a Rock 'n' Roll vein. The song has a swing to it. Eddie Clarke is everywhere, teeming with ideas, maintaining sublime electrical tension. In the mid 8, it repeats the same notes until obsession, supported by a double bass drum stamp from Taylor. It feels like you've been hammering a rusty nail in your head. That is nothing compared to the final chorus, rising to a crescendo, Clarke floats on a wave of desperate feeling. It is a song from those used to life on the road, always the home ground of this triumphant trio because it ferments in the guts of the guitarist along with the Special Brew and the Smirnoff, as much as in those of Kilmister and Taylor. Teenage baby, you're a sweet young thing Still tied to mama's apron strings I don't even dare to ask your age Just enough to know you're here backstage You're jailbait and I just can't wait Jailbait, baby come on
