Some bands are just made for a Saturday night in Dublin, and there are not many more suited than Phil Campbell And The Bastard Sons. While others sit at home looking square-eyed at the now bile-inducing Britain’s Got Talent, up off Wexford Street, Opium’s Got A Bunch Of Rowdy Welshmen is a much more worthwhile proposition.
Phil Campbell And The Bastard Sons
Opium, Dublin – 19 April 2025
Words: Brian Boyle
Photography: Steven Maloney
As you should know, Pontypridd legend Phil Campbell was Motörhead’s guitarist for an ear-bashing 32 years until the time was called following the death of the band’s empyrean founder and leader Lemmy Kilmister in 2015.
Tonight was a fist-raising salute to 50 years of Motörhead, a Heavy Metal institution whose barbarous music has pummeled the four corners of the world, influenced generations, and kept hearing aid salesmen in full employment for decades.
It is no surprise that this evening’s venue was upgraded from the original Whelan’s to the more spacious surroundings of Opium, for nights like this are a wee bit more special than the norm. The clientele is, as you would expect, a healthy mix of younger and a lot older, but all Metal-led up and ready to be riddled by 100-watt Marshall’s.
And the night’s shenanigans could not have got off to a better start, as the timeless boogie of fellow denimeers Status Quo’s Rockin All Over The World heralded the stampede of the lads from the valleys.
And if by some miracle you had forgotten about the sheer ferocity of Motörhead’s music, the opening uppercut of Iron Fist and Damage Case will have given you a swift reminder.
For the next ninety bruising minutes, this room was a bullshit-free zone, and even at two songs in, the immense feeling of pure rock ‘n’ roll honesty was palpable.
No doubt there were some in the house tonight who were not lucky enough to have worshipped at the altar of the irreplaceable Lemmy. But the presence and delivery of singer Joel Peters did supreme justice to the hallowed material.
Peters had the rammed gathering eating out of his hand as he leathered out the knees-up classics Going To Brazil and Rock Out with his tour laminate swinging in every direction. But for all his rousing, it was still hard to avert your eyes from the patriarch Phil Campbell.
Although surrounded by his youthful kin, he was still the coolest thing up there, as he rattled out the perpetual throb of Orgasmatron and the Metal crunch of Metropolis. All this proves that at 63 years old, you can still pull off Converse and a beanie while chain-chewing gum.
Having his boys by his side obviously keeps his motor running, and Tyla, Dane, and Todd left skid marks with the vibe of raising Born To Raise Hell and the roadie saluting (We Are) The Road Crew. 
There was virtually no time to draw breath tonight as the headbanging dial just kept going up. The quick blast of R.A.M.O.N.E.S was a beer-spilling triumph, and the heads down The Chase Is Better Than The Catch fueled up a freight train of blissful pandemonium.
With Ace Of Spades and Killed By Death taking no prisoners, these were executed with enough power to melt the fake tan off Gavin Henson’s legs.
The often overlooked cover of David Bowie’s Heroes was not lost on the now-battered Dubliners, but a few did use it to answer a well-earned call of nature. Upon their return, they were greeted with an encore that would live long in the eardrums.
Whorehouse Blues was a nice start, a little tickle, you could say. But something more substantial was bubbling. You could feel the tremors.
Then it happened, smack, bang and bloody wallop. Bomber, Motörhead and Overkill went off with military precision. It was like a 21-gun salute to himself above.
Phil Campbell And The Bastard Sons left nothing on the stage tonight, they emptied the whole tank. They could not do any wrong.
Even Tyla Campbell escaped the wrath of the locals by drinking draught Guinness from the can and not far from the brewery itself. That is a war crime in these parts.
If was I told at curtains that this was to be my last ever gig, I would have hobbled off home a very contented man.
