G n F n R !! 10/19/2017

So last night I took a trip down rocky memory road to relive the long hair days of my youth (maybe it was a mullet) by attending the Guns ‘n Roses Not in this Lifetime show at the venue formerly known as the Verizon Center. I’d seen the legendary rockers twice before, in our younger days, last time in 1991.  That was during the Use Your Illusion tour, followed by the disillusionment of their dissolution, ending the era as Nirvana ushered in a new movement with less makeup and leather pants.  Fashion aside, GnR put on a hell of a show both times I saw them, even if Axl staged some obnoxious histrionics of being too cool to take the stage before midnight (when the opening act, that time being a new band named Soundgarden had been basically booed off the stage hours before).

I lost my favorite GnR hats, cut off the flowing locks, and moved on from the disbanded band, not even considering revisiting them with their sorry Spaghetti Incident or later Chinese Democracy, both efforts a far cry from Appetite, Lies, and the double Illusions. I used to love them.  So when Marc presented the idea of going to this latest reunion tour, even if a bit overpriced, I jumped at the opportunity of getting out of the house and reuniting with a formerly favorite band.  (I’ve seen Metallica, Aerosmith, Poison, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, and other lesser hairbands, and none put on as good of a show as Axl, Slash, and whoever they had with them at any given time, IMHO.)

The plan was to meet up for a decent dinner at six, allowing plenty of time to catch the show, since doors were opening at seven, and drama (rocket) queen Axl was always notoriously late to start. I was likewise late to the nearby restaurant, though Maurice was later, leaving Marc and Dave to wonder if we’d arrive in time to catch the early show, since Marc had found out that the old geezers were now like grandparents to the Old Country Buffet, arriving unfashionably early.  This meant no time to savor the flavors, just long enough to scarf down a steak or sirloin tips or crab cakes or (in Maurice’s unfortunate late case) the remnants of the corn bread.  We rushed our check, chugged our beers, and were about to head over to the show with minutes to spare, when a crisis of conscience and some last minute math had us handing our credit cards back to our server to correct her having given us the wrong bill.  What should have been a quick fix turned into a fifteen-minute disappearance, only interrupted by a manager telling us he knew we were anxious to go to the show (I guess we looked like old headbangers, even though none of us sported the hair or concert tees; I had thought we just looked old), but they were having difficulty in fixing their error.  He finally returned with new charges and another lame apology for the delay but nothing to show for his ineptitude to help assuage our making us miss the first few songs.  Fuck you, District Chophouse!

Yes, we missed the opening numbers, where they played all of their biggest hits, including Hey Jude, Stairway to Heaven, and a stirring rendition of the Star Spangled Banner bringing everyone in the arena to their knees in honor of our troops, or so I imagine. I wouldn’t know, because we weren’t there.  (Actually, I believe we missed “It’s so easy” and “Mr. Brownstone”, based on the playlist Marc found from a previous show; both great tunes, but hardly their biggest hits).  Fortunately, they subsequently replayed all of their biggest hits for our benefit.  Really, who ever heard of a headliner (no opening act) taking the stage at seven sharp?

For those who have never been to the Capital One Arena (I had no idea it was no longer the Verizon Center until the day of the show), the sound system usually sucks. I’ve seen Springsteen, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails, and other acts over the years, and aside from a crisp Cold Play concert, everyone else sounded less than stellar on this venue’s speakers.  GnR was no exception to the one exception, and Maurice questioned if it was intentional to hide the fact that Axl did not have the same voice as his younger hellraiser self.  I wasn’t even sure if it was the real Axl.  First of all, the jerk I remembered never started a show on time.  Second, this guy looked like he ate the original.  I’m not judging, as I’ve gained quite a few pounds in the last quarter century, but then again, I’m not putting myself on stage.  Slash looked exactly the same, which is to say very hairy, like a darker, curlier Cousin Itt, with a top hat.

So the sound wasn’t great, but the songs still are. Except for the first one we heard when we came in, which Marc informed me was “Chinese Democracy”.  Perfect timing for our first beers inside the arena.  We found our way inside just before the immediately recognizable opening chords to one of the all-time greatest opening tracks to an opening album, as “Welcome to the Jungle” rocked the house.  I’m glad we didn’t miss that one.

The staples followed, with the lesser songs interspersed, and the random Chinese Democracy song thrown in to encourage people to refill their beers. I knew most of the music, but Marc filled in the blanks, most astutely calling out “Coma”, telling me which track on which album it could be found on.  I asked over / under in the crowd that could name that tune; I’d say less than 8%.  No Spaghetti Incident monster songs, I’m happy to report (Marc confirmed as much).

What was different from last time to this time? Besides fatter, earlier Axl, and some terrible Chinese Democracy songs in the mix, the biggest differences I noted were:

1. Where was the weed? Not a complaint, just an observation… Smoke-free arenas today are much different from the hazy clouds in my foggy memory.
2. I recall having to stand for the entire show back in the day, because everyone else stood and yelled the whole time. There were still a few standers this time, but there were other people sitting most of the show. This included the group in front of us, which meant that we could enjoy the show from the comfort of our uncomfortable seats, which beats standing for hours any day of the week, at least when you’re a weak old guy like me. It reminded me of when I saw a Dire Straits concert with my father some twenty plus years prior, when I was the youngest person in the place, and I couldn’t understand how the people around us were sitting and listening to the music.  I guess now that GnR is classic rock, the crowd is my father’s, only I fit in with the old people.  Sure, we stood for the big hits (SCOM, PC), but otherwise, we took a load off whenever the lazy people in front of us allowed us to.
3. No lighters. I guess if you can’t smoke (weed or cigs), no one needs a lighter anymore. This means no lighters lit for the power ballads, which was missed as a show of support in the darkened venue. But no worries, because at any given point, the points of light of thousands of cell phones recording the show took the place of Bics.  Too many phones!!  Just chill and enjoy the show, you crazy kids!  I’ll confess, I snapped a few photos of my own, recorded a few bars of Estranged and Patience, and, sadly, even read a few work-related emails mid show.
4. Encores – My most pleasant surprise was that the encore charade was so much less work than I had expected. Used to be, the band would leave the stage, forcing the crowd to stand and clap and whistle and stomp and whatever else it took to “convince” the band to come back out and treat us to a few more songs. We really had to “earn it”. I’ve always hated this game.  Play your playlist, say goodnight, and leave like you mean it.  GnR did not prolong the interlude, and finished their set quickly after a brief break to pee (I assume – they’re old, and that’s what old people do.  I’ve seen the late night commercials).
5. When I was young, we all loved GnFnR so much. And they loved us right back. Or maybe not, but we loved them enough for both ways. This latest reincarnation (which is really the Ax and Slash show, with a bunch of fill-ins, but who really misses Izzy, Dizzy, Duff, Matt, Steven or any of the other old band members?) played the big hits, hit some high notes, demonstrated that mid-centurions can still wear leather pants and play wicked guitar, but otherwise seemed to be going through the motions.  Why do I say this?  Because unlike when I saw Pearl Jam play the Verizon Center, where we were treated to Eddie’s political mumblings between every song (not helped at all by the shitty sound system), GnR gave almost no indication that we were even there.  I believe at one point in “Welcome to the Jungle”, Axl answered his own “Do you know where you are?” with a quick aside of “of course you do, you’re in DC”.  Other than that, he never mentioned us again, never talked about being back on tour, nothing about all of the great food he’s eating leading to his larger look, or anything that would suggest he wanted anything more than to check the boxes of their set list and head to the hotel as early as possible for Matlock or some groupie sex.  Can you blame him?

Of course I can. Because I’m a whiny curmudgeon.  Who the hell do they think they are, wrapping up their set before 10:30 p.m., when in the good old days, they wouldn’t have even thought of starting by then?  When my friends and I had to use our hall passes to get out of the house for the evening, foregoing daddy duties (though we all teared up at Sweet Child o’ Mine, because we care so much).  What were we to do with ourselves, go home to our families?  Well there were certainly no hotel whores waiting on us like aging rockers, but we still wanted to rock and roll all night, or at least until midnight.

So what’s a nightcap to an early ending Guns N Roses show? An acoustic set by a Celtic lass at the Irish Channel, right around the corner from the arena.  Despite our long hair, ripped jeans, and smoky concert tees (all given up decades prior), we somehow fit right in with the rest of the crowd of lame old people, listening to covers of Oasis and still knowing every lyric.  She did her own version of SCOM, which was much appreciated, but not the same.  At least she acknowledged the small crowd, thanking us for our polite applause.

The one question that I wanted answered (besides what happened to my youth?) was how did GnR go from the geniuses behind such amazing albums as Appetite for Destruction and Use Your Illusion I and II (and Lies was pretty darn good too) to the shit show that was the Spaghetti Incident and the garbage of Chinese Democracy? Their musical range, roaring chords, soaring melodies, dramatic dirges, and a bunch of other tuneful skills with terms that I do not understand were awesome, and still stand up.  If they could have created so many great songs in such a short window of time, what happened?

I know the band broke up, which is the short answer to why no hit albums followed immediately after UYI II. But still, if they had those skills, did it just disappear?  I can only assume that the inspiration for such songs as Mr. Brownstone and Rocket Queen and My Michelle and Night Train may have had some basis in drugs and alcohol.  Is there any way to monitor dosage to get them back to producing quality music and more fun shows, without the baggage?  Just asking…