Lemmy Kilmister Called Dylan a Con Man for 40 Years — Dylan’s Response Shocked Him on His Deathbed

December 26th, 2015. Cedar Sinai Medical Center, Los Angeles. Lemmy Kilmeister was dying. The Motorhead frontman, 70 years old, ravaged by cancer, had maybe 48 hours left. His bandmates were there, his closest friends. The nurse came in around 300 p.m. with a strange look on her face. “Lemmy,” she said quietly.

“Bob Dylan is here.” Lemie thought he was hallucinating from the morphine. What? Bob Dylan, he’s outside. Says he wants to see you. Lemie started laughing. Painful rattling laughter that hurt his chest. You’re joking. I’m not. Send him in. Let me said. This I’ve got to see. The door opened. Bob Dylan walked in.

74 years old, wearing his usual hat and dark clothing, looking uncomfortable but determined. He walked to Lemiey’s bedside and spoke in that familiar rasp. Heard you’ve been calling me a con man for 40 years. Lemmy, weak but still defiant, looked Dylan in the eye and said, “Still think you are.” Dylan smiled. A genuine smile. Good. At least you’re honest.

What happened next? A two-hour conversation between a dying rock legend and the folk poet he’d criticized his entire life would stay private until after Lemmy’s death. Because what Bob Dylan told Lemie Kilmeister in that hospital room would change how everyone understood both men. If stories about respect through honesty move you, subscribe right now and drop a comment.

Have you ever respected someone more for disagreeing with you? Because what happened between Bob Dylan and Lemmy Kilmister proves that truth matters more than agreement. For 40 years, Lemi had said the same thing in interviews, in documentaries to anyone who asked. Bob Dylan is a great con man. He strung a lot of nonsense together and made it seem like it was really important and people bought it.

Lemie never backed down, never apologized, never softened. While the world called Dylan a genius, a prophet, a voice of a generation, Lemmy called him what he saw, a fraud. His lyrics don’t mean anything, Lemi had said in a 2011 interview. It’s just words that sound deep, but if you actually listen, it’s nonsense.

Dylan knew. Of course he knew. You don’t spend 50 years as Bob Dylan without reading what people say about you. and Lemmy Kilmeister, the man who looked like a cowboy from hell and played bass like a machine gun, had been publicly calling him a con man since the 1970s. Dylan never responded, never defended himself, never said a word, until December 26th, 2015, 2 days before Lemie died.

The hospital room was quiet except for the beeping machines. Lemiey’s bandmates, Mickey D and Phil Campbell, had stepped out to give them privacy. Dylan pulled up a chair next to Lemiey’s bed, sat down slowly. He looked tired, old for a moment. Neither spoke. Then Lemie broke the silence. Why’d you come, Bob? I’ve been trashing you my whole life.

Dylan looked at him. Because you’re the only one who told the truth. Lemie frowned. What truth? that you didn’t understand me, that my words seemed like nonsense to you. Everyone else pretends to understand. They write dissertations about what my songs mean, but you just said, “I don’t buy it.

” “And you respect that?” Lemie asked, confused. “More than you know?” Lemie shifted in bed, wincing. So, you’re admitting it that you’re a con man? Dylan paused then. Maybe. Or maybe you’re right and everyone else is wrong. Or maybe we’re all right and all wrong at the same time. Let me laughed that painful laugh again.

See, that’s the nonsense I’m talking about. Dylan smiled. Fair enough. They talked about music. Lemie, you know what I always respected about you? Even though I thought your lyrics were garbage. Dylan, what? You didn’t apologize for going electric. Everyone hated you, booed you, called you a sellout, and you just kept going. Dylan nodded.

Because I knew who I was, even if nobody else did. That’s what I tried to do, Lemmy said. Play loud, play fast, play simple, no pretention, just rock and roll. And you never lied about what it was, Dylan said. What do you mean? Your music was exactly what you said it was. Loud, simple, rock and roll. You never tried to make it something it wasn’t.

You never claimed it would change the world or save souls or mean something deep. Let me looked at Dylan carefully. And you did. I never claimed anything. Dylan said other people did and I let them. Maybe that’s the con. I let people decide what I meant instead of telling them. Why? Because if I told them, I’d have to mean one thing.

And I didn’t want to mean just one thing. Let me process that. So, you’re saying you hid behind ambiguity? I’m saying I played loud, too, Lemie. Just with words instead of volume. You drowned out the world with noise. I drowned it out with poetry. Same goal. Lemie went quiet for a long time. The machines beeped.

The Los Angeles sun filtered through the hospital blinds. Finally, Lemi spoke. I never thought of it that way. What way? That we were doing the same thing, refusing to be what people wanted. Dylan leaned forward. You and I were not so different. You made music you believed in. So did I. Differences. You never lied about what it was.

Rock and roll loud and simple. And mine was Dylan paused. What did you call it? Nonsense that sounded important. Pretty much, Lemi said. Dylan laughed. A real laugh. Fair enough. Lemie looked at Dylan. Really? Looked at him. You’re not what I expected, Bob. What did you expect? An ego.

A prophet who believed his own mythology. But you’re just a guy. A weird cryptic guy. But a guy. And you’re not what I expected either, Dylan said. What did you expect? A brute. someone who dismissed things because they were too simple to understand them. But you dismissed me because you saw right through me. That takes intelligence.

Lemie smiled, weak, but genuine. So, we’re both surprised. Yeah. They talked about death. Lemie, you ever think about dying? Dylan, every day since my motorcycle crash in ‘ 66. Almost died then. Been waiting for it ever since. You scared? Terrified you? Lemmy nodded slowly. Yeah. Not of being dead, of dying. Of this? He gestured weakly to the machines, the tubes, the hospital room.

“What scares you most?” Dylan asked. “That I’ll be forgotten. That in 50 years, nobody will remember Motorhead. that all that noise, all those years will just disappear. Dylan shook his head. You won’t be forgotten. How do you know? Because you were honest. People remember honesty more than genius. Genius is debatable.

Honesty isn’t. Lemmy’s eyes filled with tears. I don’t want to die, Bob. I know. I’m scared. I know. Dylan reached over and put his hand on Lemmy’s. Just held it. Two old men, two legends, both terrified. “Thank you for coming,” Lemmy whispered. “Thank you for never lying about me,” Dylan said. “They talked for 2 hours about fame, about music, about what they’d do differently.

” “LMI, would you change anything? If you could go back,” Dylan thought for a long time. I’d be clearer. I’d say what I meant instead of hiding behind poetry. Why didn’t you? Because being clear means being wrong. If you say exactly what you mean, people can prove you wrong. If you’re ambiguous, you can never be wrong. You can mean everything.

That’s cowardly, Lemi said. I know, but also smart. Maybe, Lemie. I wouldn’t change anything. Every mistake I made, I made it loud and proud. At least I owned it. Dylan smiled. That’s why you’re braver than me. I’m not brave. I’m dying. Being brave and being scared aren’t opposites, Lemie. You can be both. Near the end of the conversation, Dylan asked a question.

Lemie, do you still think I’m a con man? Lemie looked at him, thought carefully. Yeah, I do. Dylan nodded. Good. But Lemi continued, “Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe the world needs conmen. People who make them think, make them feel, even if it’s all nonsense.” Is that a compliment from me? Yeah, it is.

Dylan smiled. Then I’ll take it. Dylan stood to leave. Lemiey’s energy was fading. The machines beeped faster. “Bob,” Lemie said weakly. Dylan turned. “I’m sorry I called you a con man all those years.” “Don’t be.” Dylan said, “You were right. I just wanted you to know. I respected that you said it.

Even though it hurt, especially because it hurt. The truth should hurt. That’s how you know it’s true.” Lemie nodded, closed his eyes. Dylan walked to the door, stopped, turned back. “Lemmy, yeah. You mattered more than you knew. Lemie opened his eyes. Thanks, Bob. Dylan left. Two days later, on December 28th, 2015, Lemie Kilmeister died.

Dylan showed up at the funeral uninvited in the back row, hat pulled low, sunglasses on. He didn’t speak, didn’t give a eulogy, just sat. After the service, Mickey D approached him. Bob, thank you for visiting him. Dylan nodded. What did you two talk about? Mickey asked. Dylan thought for a moment.

Honesty, music, what it means to be yourself when the world wants you to be something else. Did you make peace? Dylan smiled slightly. We were never at war. Lemie just told the truth, and I finally thanked him for it. Years later, Dylan spoke about Lemie in a rare interview. Let me kill Killmister called me a con man for 40 years. And you know what? He was probably right.

But he understood me better than the people who called me a genius. How so? Because he saw through the words. He knew I was hiding and he called me on it. That takes courage and honesty. And I respected him for it. Do you miss him? Dylan paused. Yeah. I missed the one person who never bought what I was selling.

He kept me honest even when I didn’t want to be. Lemie Kilmeister spent 40 years calling Bob Dylan a con man. Never apologized. Never backed down. And 2 days before he died, Bob Dylan walked into his hospital room and said, “Thank you.” Not for believing in him, but for not believing in him.

For telling the truth when everyone else was lying. for seeing through the words to the person hiding behind them. Lemie was right about Dylan, but Dylan was right about something, too. Honesty is braver than genius. And Lemy Kilmeister was the most honest man in rock and roll. Even when he was wrong, he was honest.

And maybe that mattered more than being right.