EDMONTON - You can argue whether or not Motorhead is the "loudest band in the world," as advertised. Like rating the subtle gradations of the torments of Hades, such things can be a matter of perception. Roasted over a fire or frozen in ice? Or would you prefer demons poking your backside with pitchforks?

Motorhead was, however, the loudest band ever to play at Red's. This isn't just some wild idea. It's a fact.

"This is the loudest band we've ever had," declared Red's manager Zeno Ioannides at the show on Monday night.

I replied, "What?!"

Mission accomplished.

The venerable trio's show was a headbanger's ball packed with large men sporting tattoos and representing that strange demographical nexus between punk rock and heavy metal. It was a 10-1 male-to-female ratio, at least - not a good place to pick up chicks, unless you mean that literally and you're hoisting one up on your shoulders, in which case you'd better be her boyfriend.

After opening sets from delightfully heavy bands like Three Inches of Blood and Corrosion of Conformity - who taught us the many rhymes of the word "die!" - there was much rejoicing as Motorhead finally took the stage. Hey, Lemmy Kilminster looked pretty good for a 59-year-old heavy- metal musician who's been hammering it out for more than 30 years straight. Cigarette dangling from his moustachioed maw, trusty bass in fist, microphone tilted at its highest possible angle, he spoke before he played, "We're Motorhead."

Man of few words, he is. He added something about "balls," obviously referring to the musical treats to come. The band then launched into one speedy rocker after another, each louder, faster and more intense than the last, songs little more than two minutes each. They didn't need to be any longer. They made their point, moved on. Guitarist Philip Campbell's piercing solos were as loud as a barrel full of ball bearings being sucked into a jet engine with no lubricant, drummer Mikkey Dee's furious cadence was like being riddled with a .50-calibre machine-gun at close range, Lemmy's bass was a thundering din of pure power, sounding at times like 10 distorted electric guitars playing at the same time. Time to consult the heavy metal reviewer's thesaurus: a phrase like "punishing assault on the senses" is fitting to convey the incredible heaviness of what occurred here. Capiche?

At first, the idea of Motorhead seemed better than the actual article, but as they warmed up, the band began to work its magic. It was all about the drive, about rocking out in a simple way, about using everything at one's disposal to serve the music. There was little room for self-indulgence, even if you count the obligatory drum solo. Much appreciated was the encore, an acoustic blues number where Lemmy even pulled out a harmonica, believe it or not, followed by Ace of Spades, which is as close to a "hit" as Motorhead ever got.

Devil horn salutes and lusty shouts filled the air - a curious contrast to the mellow demeanour of Lemmy. He eschewed the split-finger symbol of all things heavy in favour of just pointing his finger around as if bestowing papal blessings. He came off like the Headmaster of Metal. Listen up, lads, Mr. Kilminster demands your attention. His voice boomed over the wall of rock during the songs, but he rarely even raised his voice otherwise. None of this, "ARE YOU READY, MOTHERF---ERS!" shouted by the guy from COC. Lemmy knew we were ready. He just introduced tunes with wry little comments, about half of which could be understood in his thick English brogue, so I can only assume they were all wry. He said at one point, "This is a new song. Isn't that exciting?"

Yes, it was. Later, "This one is dedicated to me (pause for effect) ... and you. It's called Over the Top."

Motorhead may have been over the top, but it was certainly not excessive. It was exactly what was expected, satisfactory delivery of what was advertised - plus just a bit more. In short, it was just too loud enough.

Rating: 4 out of 5