On a good night, Guns N’ Roses is arguably the best rock band in the world. GNR’s Stonesian hard rock is delivered by a cast of very distinct characters prone to equal parts comedy and tragedy. First-rate musicianship, ambitious songwriting, emotion to spare, high drama…it’s all there.
Everything, that is, except guarantees. On any given night, the extent to which the band reaches its potential hinges largely on mercurial vocalist Axl Rose’s frame of mind. Axl is a raw nerve, forged when a repressed Midwest delinquent was dunked in the savagery of L.A.’s mean streets and then hit with both barrels of mind-blowing, all-encompassing superstardom.
When GNR played an outdoor show in Birmingham last July, his fury misfired. After an antagonistic crowd greeted a pair of unfamiliar numbers with a lukewarm response, Axl—who demands as much of the audience as he does of himself—Ieft the stage; the band was forced to fill time with a blues jam. Later, after being struck with a clump of mud, he led his band mates offstage. They returned, but Axl’s heart wasn’t in it. There were no goodbyes at the end of the show. Two nights later this negativity crested at the infamous St. Louis riot.
Since then, there have been other incidents: Axl showed up two hours late for a couple of shows and, after an unfavorable review, he ordered his record company not to issue press passes anymore. Given Axl’s demons, then, the drama at the Baton Rouge show started immediately after Soundgarden’s opening set: Would the bastard even show up?
After an hour delay Axl and company launched “It’s So Easy,” and for the next two-and-a-half hours—and again the following night in Biloxi—made their case for the mantle of Rock’s Best. Working all points of a stage outfitted with three runways that jutted into the audience—and performing without a set list—the musicians served up a show that depended as much on finesse as sheer power. Axl was equally adept on the keys of a grand piano for his epic “November Rain” as he was peeling off layers of vocal cord during “Welcorne to the Jungle.”
The GNR ensemble, including as many as a dozen performers (the six band members, two female back-up singers, a three-piece female horn section and an auxiliary harmonica/keyboard man) turned in loose, open-ended jams that coalesced for a timely punch when necessary.
The band made a point to weave its influences into the show. A casual bass and guitar work-out on the Stones’ “Wild Horses” gave way to the Gunners’ own “Patience.” An atmospheric wah-wah solo with bits of “Are You Experienced?” opened a letter-perfect, sledgehammer “Civil War,” with Axl sporting a jacket emblazoned with “REBEL.” Slash’s talk-box solo evolved into a majestic, full-blown reading of the theme from “The Godfather,” which was severed by the distinct lead break of “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
In Baton Rouge, Axl was happy to offer his observations on life in Louisiana. On the recent gubernatorial run-off: “That must have sucked, having to choose between two assholes.” On Jimmy Swaggert: “When I was growing up, I had to listen to his tapes…I was so glad when he went down.”
But overall, he was in relatively good humor, and seemed pleased with the audiences’ response. Four songs into the Biloxi gig, he stopped the proceedings to announce, “I’ve just got to say that you people are a nice f****** surprise.” After closing both shows with the anthemic “Paradise City”—and after guards had retrieved bassist Duff McCagan following his plunge nightly into the audience—the entire assemblage returned for a final curtain call. They were all smiles. Even Axl.
