Not sure who this chick is, but i know Some people on this board that may like this negative article
http://trueslant.com/michelecatalano/2010/03/26/my-lovehate-affair-with-axl-rose/I was reading a few articles this morning about Axl Rose being sued and it got me thinking about my long, on again-off again relationship with Axl and Guns N’ Roses and how I never got to tell anyone how much I hated Chinese Democracy and everything that went into it. Old story? Sure. But hyperbolic hatred loves a new audience.
My history with Axl and company is a long and complicated one. I imagine that most metal fans who hooked on to the early GnR bandwagon followed the same path I did. Think of the seven stages of grief in reverse. From acceptance (Appetite for Destruction = welcome to my record collection!) to denial (I swear to you I never owned The Spaghetti Incident), we watched – and in some ways participated in – the slow death of a once great band. But it wasn’t their years of putting out head banging, fist pumping music that was the greatest show. No, it was watching Axl Rose trying in vain to raise the Phoenix from the ashes that offered the most jaw dropping, car-wreck kind of entertainment this side of the November Rain video.
Real music fans don’t just buy an album, get their groove on and put the album away until later. We invest a part of ourselves in each record we buy. And, by extension, we invest a piece of ourselves in the bands we love. We form a relationship, so to speak, with the band as a whole. And it’s a tenuous sort of relationship, because the only thing that ties us together is the actual music. A new album comes out, you listen for the first time and each perfectly crafted song is tantamount to being embraced by a passionate lover. Every lyric that resonates, beat that you feel in your bones, hook that captures your soul – it’s like making love to the music and those who made the music (metaphorically speaking, of course). The better the anticipated album or single, the more intense the action is. So each new album we wait for is like the promise of hot, dirty sex after your partner has been away for a while. And in that essence, Chinese Democracy was a years long cock tease.
My real lust for the band kind of faded right around Civil War. It was then I realized that Guns N’ Roses was the equivalent of the girl who teases you with her perky breasts for years and when you finally manage to get under the hood, you grab hold of three inches of padded bra. All that music before Use Your Illusion II was just a ruse to get us to this point. They gave us the good stuff first so they could later on sit back and make this pretentious, melodramatic drivel that they called art. There was nothing left to them. Empty D cups.
I never held a grudge against the rest of the band like I do Axl. He was – and is – a self indulgent monster whose posturing bravado could never hide the fact that he was really nothing more than a wimp, a nancy boy, a withered soul of a human being who couldn’t handle criticism or competition. Yet somehow, he managed to convince himself that he was the king of the mountain and deserved every indulgence he demanded – something the attempted creation of Chinese Democracy made all so evident, especially since during the recording of that disaster he surrounded himself with people just like himself.
He accompanied Buckethead on a jaunt to Disneyland when the guitarist was drifting toward quitting, several people involved recalled; then Buckethead announced he would be more comfortable working inside a chicken coop, so one was built for him in the studio, from wood planks and chicken wire.
That excerpt alone is what symbolizes both Axl Rose and the whole warped evolution of Guns N’ Roses. Ridiculous excess, indulgence, pretentiousness and the penchant for extending the idea of making an album to such ridiculous heights that, somehow, building a chicken coop for Buckethead seemed like a good way to spend money. The mere fact that Axl spent 14 years and 13 million dollars of someone else’s money making what amounts to a mediocre tribute to his own ego is all anyone needs to know about the mindset of the man.
Of course I listened to the album when it finally came out. I had to know. Was it worth the time and money? Would Axl regain my love? Does this band really deserve to be named Guns N’ Roses? And, like any great myth, the legend of Chinese Democracy was a tale bigger and grander than the sum of its parts. I thought it was bland, lifeless and sad, desperate attempt to recapture the hearts and minds of the people who swayed along to Sweet Child of Mine but who refused to acknowledge any Guns N’ Roses that didn’t include Slash. Sure, millions of people bought the album, but there’s only going to be so many people, most of them sporting mullets and sleeveless denim jackets, who will truly, honestly believe in their hearts that the band that put out Chinese Democracy, and the band that is currently touring under the Guns N’ Roses name is actually Guns N’ Roses. Because it isn’t. Not by a longshot. If Axl had any integrity at all, he would have ditched the band name and come up with something new. But ingegrity and Axl Rose have never gone hand in hand, have they?
I would say Chinese Democracy was the final chapter in the rise and fall of Axl, but it’s more like the rise and fall and fall and fall; he seems determined to make his plunge from rock star to “Where Are They Now?” last forever. Currently, he’s at the bloated, hardly recognizable stage of demise. But if it’s controversy and lawsuits that keep him alive, Axl will live forever.
I prefer to remember Axl the way I first loved him; all swaying hips and high decibel screaming, causing riots, forgetting to show up for concerts, making an ass of himself in ways that are forgivable in rock and roll. Everything from the original Guns N Roses on? As unforgivable as The Spaghetti Incident.
Every time Axl makes the news, I listen to Appetite for Destruction and yearn for the days when our relationship was so uncomplicated.
