For music fans, the past year has been a particularly brutal stretch of time as it pertains to legends leaving this mortal coil. One of the largest voids was left by the passing of Lemmy Kilmister, the Motörhead singer and bassist known the world over by just his first name. He died on December 28 from prostate cancer, cardiac arrhythmia, and congestive heart failure. Even with a series of preceding health issues that resulted in cancelled shows and the paring back of Lemmy’s legendary booze intake, the death still came as a bit of a shock. Simply put, the man seemed unstoppable, even as proof of his mortality surfaced in his later years. In the face of illness, the band released another album and went back on the road. The documentation of that final tour has come to light on Motörhead’s 13th live album, and presumably final release, Clean Your Clock.

Clean Your Clock was recorded over two nights in Munich during the band’s 40th anniversary tour, one month before Lemmy died. It would be tempting to frame it as Lemmy’s final farewell, but the band had a slate of tour dates planned for 2016. Fittingly for an anniversary tour, the band pulls out some seldom aired gems and even switches things up with an acoustic version of “Whorehouse Blues” from 2004’s Inferno album. On “Rock It,” from 1983’s Another Perfect Day, an album that was disparaged when it was released but whose reputation has improved over the years, Lemmy jokingly dismisses the crowd’s cheers by responding, “Ah, didn’t buy it then, did ya?” Whatever the case, the set list doesn’t disappoint.

Musically, Motörhead sounds as tight as they ever were, even if they had slowed with age. As a band who put the “power” in power trio, Lemmy, guitarist Phil Campbell, and drummer Mikkey Dee are pretty unrelenting. One evident accommodation to Lemmy’s health condition is that Dee and Campbell take up more sonic real estate to give the singer some literal and metaphorical breathing room. And even though this line-up had been together for almost 20 years, they play with every bit of the intensity of their younger days.

Nevertheless, you can tell that Lemmy wasn’t at his best vocally. To be fair, considering all of his health problems and what he was unknowingly fighting (he wasn’t diagnosed with cancer until after the tour ended), it is a miracle that he was even standing let alone powering through a show. But where his bass playing doesn’t fail him, his voice does. You never expected full elocution from the man, but even on a sliding scale, you can tell singing was a struggle. On some songs, like “Orgasmatron,” it seems like it’s just sheer force of will that’s keeping him going. And on the band’s calling card “Ace of Spades,” it is gut-wrenching how mortal Lemmy sounds. When he hits the punchline of “I don’t want to live forever,” in this context it sounds more resigned than defiant.

There’s no denying the album’s historical importance as a document of the last days of Lemmy and Motörhead, but for a band with 12 other live records, Clean Your Clock has some stiff completion for time on the turntable. If nothing else, though, it reveals the indomitable rock & roll spirit that fueled Lemmy’s life—even in his dying days. This record proves that the show goes on because, well, what else are you going to do?