By Mariana Marcaletti
Herald staff
How strong do you have to be to put up with a Guns n’ Roses live show? To start with, it’s wrong to call them Guns n’ Roses as the only original member who remains is Axl Rose. So, let’s rephrase the question: how willing are you to see the controversial rock singer on stage? All we need is just a little patience.
Before it started, it was impossible to find the right entrance. Fans wandered from one side to another, misled by police officers who had no idea how to direct them to the door corresponding to the ticket. Outside Vélez stadium on Monday, black-dressed youngsters, some wearing a red headscarf favoured by Axl, confronted police as they supposedly had fake tickets. Although some weren’t carrying a ticket, others were but it didn’t matter — they weren’t allowed in anyway. Arrests were made and the ones who did escape burnt down a tree to show how they felt about the injustice.
When I finally managed to enter, nobody walked me to my seat. I agreed to wait until Sebastián Bach (former Skid Row) support act finished. When lights came on, I looked for my mysterious location. It was impossible to find an usher and, after stalking one for a while, he told me where I was supposed to be but advised me not to go there. “OK, I’ll show you where, but please don’t ask me to argue with the person sitting there because I’ve had enough for one day,” he told me. It’s a deal, I’ll do the talking, I assured him.
Row six, seats one and three. Two teenage girls were in my seats, claiming innocence by saying they had the same tickets as me. But they lacked evidence, so I had no choice but to call security. Of course, it was useless, so I threatened them, much to my regret. “Don’t worry, we’ll all stand up when Axl starts singing and it will be a mess anyway, look around you,” she said to me.
The same was happening all over the place. I wasn’t the only one quarrelling, on the verge of a physical fight with another person over a seat that cost $400 (the cheapest were $90). Some shouted, others accepted the inevitable, the smartest sought out free space. In the jungle, animals dressed as humans flew off the handle, and the only rule that prevailed was Darwin’s survival of the fittest. But they didn’t react that way out of the blue: they had their reasons.
Were the same tickets sold twice? Where did all those fake passes came from? Who knows. But the fact remains that this was an international concert that was far from well-organized — and no excuse can redeem it, not even the fact that the venue changed from River to Vélez the week before due to BA city government’s excessive regulations. The discontent could be perceived in the atmosphere, overcrowded with people whose blood boiled during and after the two-hour delay.
At 11pm, Axl showed up on all-fire stage with the song that lends its title to the album, Chinese Democracy. Then, it was the turn of Welcome to the Jungle, followed by several hits from the latest album. His rock-n-roll spirit fuelled the anger as people jumping in the front row started throwing amicable Argentine flags (Axl put one on) and unfriendly bottles (which triggered Axl’s fear). When the attacks went too far, he stopped the show and was crystal clear. “Thank you for your love and support but, please, don’t throw this kind of crap on stage because you might hurt me or you. We don’t wanna arrest you. We all came here to have fun, didn’t we? If you keep on doing this, I’ll call it a day,” he threatened. Although his words didn’t materialize, he had to interrupt the concert three times.
Apart from the extramusical complications, the gig wasn’t as fluent as expected. He intertwined new, rocker songs with old, calmer ballads, giving way to confusion as he didn’t lead the mood of the audience — most of them were halfway between rock’s unstoppable energy and the concentration required to enjoy the more profound songs such as Don’t cry, Patience, November Rain and a great version of Pink Floyd’s The Wall.
In between hits, he included solo sections by his musicians that slowed down the gig’s pace. If it was too in-your-face with Axl’s out-of-control movements, the instrumental segments were too long and tedious — except for the recreation of Lalo Schifrin’s The Pink Panther Theme or James Bond soundtrack followed by Live and Let Die. Was Axl generous enough to give room for his crew to shine or was he trying to avoid being on stage as long as possible? When performing lengthy tracks, such as You Could be Mine (Terminator 2), he would run away mid song and return when it was time to finish it.
Although he can do anything he wants with his voice and body, with his 48 years of existence unnoticed, Axl’s impressive skills failed to reach the whole audience. When revisiting Rocket Queen, fans at the back of the stadium screamed in unison: “we can’t hear.” The loud music worked in detriment of his voice, which also couldn’t be heard when, from time to time, the microphone couldn’t amplify his singing and interference blocked the way between the artist and his fans.
Bridging the gap was an impossible mission, so many people left an hour before the gig finished — probably out of fear, cold, boredom or disappointment. Axl Rose fed their appetite for destruction with a show that promised the return of a myth after 17 years of absence but turned out to be a pitiful joke, an ensemble of disjointed pieces that made no sense and was far from paradise city.
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