Reported By Caine Blackthorn
There’s a moment, every so often, when the world pauses just long enough to honor the ones who built its noise.
And this week, that moment belonged to Andy Edwards, the sculptor who carved Lemmy Kilmister into immortality and parked him right back in the soil that raised him.
Andy Edwards was one of three winners of the civic pride honour at Staffordshire’s Your Heroes Awards 2025, part of several initiatives celebrated by the city this year through Stoke on Trent’s cultural programs.
expecting a polite evening, maybe a handshake, maybe a lukewarm drink in a plastic cup.
Instead, they called his name, one of three honored for civic pride and the man looked like someone had slipped a live wire straight into his chest.
“I was blindsided,” he said. “Completely shocked. Didn’t know where to put myself.”
If you’ve ever seen Edwards’ Lemmy statue thats towering, stubborn and unbothered by time you’d understand why people pushed his name forward.
The thing glows like it’s got a Marlboro ember inside. Since its unveiling in May, fans from sixty countries have drifted toward Burslem like pilgrims, carrying leather jackets and stories full of grief and gratitude.
Edwards swears he’s not the miracle, the statue is.
“Art anchors people,” he said. “It gives strangers something to stand around and feel together.”
And honestly? He’s right. Lemmy always was a lighthouse for the lost, so it makes sense that the stone version is doing the same work.
But Edwards wasn’t the only one stepping into the light Thursday night.
Enter Nathan Walton, charity champion of the year. A man who has raised over £1.5 million simply because he refuses to let suffering go unanswered. Walton is one of those quiet hurricanes. He’s slept in a Smart car for a week, danced badly on purpose for a fundraiser, and ran an ultra-marathon through the Sahara like it was a personal dare from the universe.
He didn’t chase applause. He ran from it, actually.
“Surprised, humbled, a bit embarrassed,” he said. “You don’t do this for trophies.”
But he admitted the truth, too. He keeps going because of what Dougie Mac hospice did for his mother. Love like that rearranges a person. Turns exhaustion into fuel. Turns difficulty into something holy.
“Seeing how they cared for her… it made me want to keep pushing.”
By the end of the night, twenty-seven people were celebrated, artists, caregivers, community rebels and everyday heroes. A reminder that even in a world as loud and strange as ours, there are still sparks worth gathering around.
And somewhere in Burslem, under the streetlights, Lemmy’s bronze eyes are watching all of it approvingly, amused, and probably thirsty for a Jack and Coke.
For more stories that dig into metal’s legends and hidden histories, explore our Deep Cuts series.