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Madison Square Garden December 5, 2002 By C. Bottomley In a recent interview, the drummer for The Donnas said that if the original Guns N' Roses reformed, they "could take over the world!" Watching the band that now goes by that name at Madison Square Garden, I understood what she meant. They have monster tunes: sleazoid rockers like "Welcome to the Jungle" and "My Michelle," odes to bad love like "You Could Be Mine," Bic-waving ballads such as "Patience," and of course the flawless "Sweet Child O' Mine" - their very own "Stairway to Heaven." Their live performances are built around physical dynamics, and although lead singer Axl Rose, the only remaining member of the group that recorded 1987's classic Appetite for Destruction, has been away from the stage for nearly nine years, he still howls like a banshee and sprints from one end of the stage to the other like a gerbil with ADD. As if mindful that they sold out the arena on those virtues alone, at MSG the band made sure they also included elements of an old-fashioned metal gig, too. There were solo spots for guitarists Robin Finck and Buckethead, raised platforms for the musicians to prowl, and a fusillade of glitter cannons for the concluding "Paradise City." What's missing was any real point. Rose says the reason why Guns N' Roses have labored for over a decade on the allegedly forthcoming Chinese Democracy album is because he wants the band to sound more contemporary. But this edition of GNR offered a note for note replication of Appetite for Destruction and 1991's Use Your Illusion. Abetted by two keyboardists and a rhythm section, the group stuck to their signature virtues - punk concision, heavyweight riffing and pure sentiment. The new songs sounded more post-"November Rain" than post-Trent Reznor. Axl resolutely remains the star of the show. Performance is a kind of therapy for this rock star, and among his many unanswered questions is why he writes songs that are so hard to sing. At one point Axl's face went bright red from the exertion of switching from scream to baritone rumble. Still, he was in great voice for "Knocking on Heaven's Door" and "You Could Be Mine." Axl stayed swaddled in mammoth sports jerseys - he looked like a pink, sweaty gargoyle wearing a Knicks muumuu - and his tirade against Conan O'Brien was met with a shrug. Apparently O'Brien made unkind comments about the singer's weight following GNR's VMAs appearance. Only Rose (who handed out Krispy Kreme donuts to the crowd while mocking the TV host), seemed to have noticed. He also darted into the wings during each instrumental break, as if he had better places to be than listening to his own music. That left the faceless musicians of GNR Version 2.0 alone onstage, and pointed up their shortcomings as a unit. Slash, Duff, Izzy and the rest of those decadent L.A. dolls who sent Poison whimpering to their Behind the Music episode shared the bond of a gang that fought, f*cked and shot up together. Rose's hired guns exude no such camaraderie. In his KFC bucket and Halloween mask, Buckethead may look weird, but barring a bizarre interlude where he wielded a pair of nunchakus and played the Star Wars theme, he could just as easily have joined the ranks of Toto. The wait for Axl's re-appearances and the generic fireworks provided plenty of time to muse on whether this show was anything more than a nostalgia trip back to an era when you didn't need to sound like Eddie Vedder to rock. In their prime the group was a model of youthful exasperation feeding melodic metal. At MSG they could have been any one of the numerous tribute bands that currently resurrect GNR'S greatest hits - incidentally amusing but very out of their time. There's no doubt we need another GNR. We just don't need this one. For news, bio, songs, CDs, and more go to the Guns N' Roses Artist A -Z pages. Tell us what you think of this review. |
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