CALGARY - Never clean your ears.

At least never let a doctor clean them. And that, students of rock and roll, is how Lemmy Kilmister has avoided going deaf, despite fronting perhaps the loudest band in show business.

"Never have them syringed -- you end up with a pair of brand new ears, totally unprotected and then the next time you play, wham, that's it," he says.

I'm backstage at Flames Central, a slightly-in-awe news columnist who's temporarily abandoned news for a bit of blatant self-indulgence, in the form of hero worship.

Don't judge me too harshly: Hero worship is something plenty of Calgarians will be doing in the next few days, as the Dalai Lama visits our city, bringing his message of peace to an adoring throng of thousands.

But this is no religious leader and Motorhead's message is fast, furious and deafeningly loud. Rock-and-roll in its rawest form is the mantra.

Except it's not a cult: "I don't have time for religion or religious people -- they're just looking for a way to stave off death, just hedging their bets," says Lemmy.

"There may well be an afterlife, I don't know and I'll wait until I die until I find out. And I'm not in a hurry."

So says Motorhead's infamous leader, a musician in the purist sense of the word. He'll probably never be rich -- "I'm not an (expletive) millionaire," he says -- but he's earned the respect of peers and fans for never compromising in his choice of music or lifestyle.

With a face to frighten children and a moustache-sideburn combo dating from the Crimean War, Lemmy is a 63-year-old rock and roll survivor whose excesses and indulgences surpass all but the likes of Rolling Stone Keith Richards.

And true, his dressing room has more than a few bottles of booze kicking about, but there's also fresh fruit, and Lemmy says he loves to read. Still, what about the excesses?

He says he only met Richards once, "a nice enough guy," but seems unimpressed by a band whose music fails to attract new fans.

"Our music sounds younger, it's still knocks you out -- it's a motorcycle out of control," says Lemmy.

To sit in his presence is to bear witness to the ultimate rock and roll dream: A lifetime of loud music, willing women and occasional bouts of sobriety.

By the time I leave, Lemmy, a friendly, well-spoken man, has told me about working in a factory and his time as a roadie for Jimi Hendrix, and he's let me play his fabled Rickenbacker bass.

He also tells the story of heading to the Cavern Club at age 16 to see the Beatles.

"Me and a mate hitchhiked up there to see if they were really as good as these chicks said they were and they were better," he says.

But when I first arrive, the interview is delayed. I'm told he's a busy for a moment, and about 20 minutes later, two attractive young ladies walk out of his dressing room, laughing and whispering.

I'm told they're journalists. Uh-huh.

Lemmy ain't pretty, but the girls don't seem to mind -- Maxim magazine once voted him one of the Top 10 Living Legends of Sex, with a tally sheet nearly 2,000 ladies long.

Lemmy says the truth is closer to 1,200 -- and he's actually a romantic man, thank-you very much.

"I am a romantic -- I think it's born into you," says Lemmy.

"I've always had good manners because that's what my mother taught me. I mean, they're free anyway -- why doesn't everyone have good manners?"

He seems embarrassed that his past conquests are now common gossip. He prefers not to kiss and tell.

"I'm not into trophies like Gene Simmons, taking photographs so you can prove it," he says.

"I don't have to prove it, you know."

On the road two-thirds of the year with Motorhead, Lemmy says retirement hasn't occurred to him yet, mainly because he isn't sure what else he'd do.

"I'd probably have an antique shop, something like that," he says.

Really, he doesn't need to retire. Having kept a relatively low profile in the world of fame had kept Lemmy from aging before the eyes of the world.

Plus, he clearly loves it.

"It's still an adventure and you wouldn't believe the odd juxtaposition of events that happen on the road," he says.

"Most of the time it's just a great life, there's a lot of lives I could have led. I'm lucky I got this one."