This long-awaited reunion was both preposterous and perfect
Of the many people who said this tour would never happen, Guns N’ Roses were among the most vocal. When singer Axl Rose was asked in 2012 about the chances of the Los Angeles band’s original line-up reforming, he replied: “Not in this lifetime”.
But pent-up demand and million dollar pay cheques have a habit of swaying people’s minds. And so the Not in This Lifetime Tour rolled into London for two shows at the Olympic Stadium. And thank goodness for that. On a perfect summer’s night, Guns N’ Roses dished out nearly three hours of meaty rock that was in turns ferocious, preposterous and moving.
Formed in LA in 1985, Guns
N’ Roses released the biggest-selling debut album of all time before lumbering on and then imploding spectacularly. Rose carried on with the band, but without the other founder members it was never really
Guns N’ Roses. Not that they have totally reformed. Guitarist Slash and bassist Duff McKagan are back, but guitarist Izzy Stradlin and drummer Steven Adler are not.
On Friday, Rose was lithe, on time and in fine voice, three things that fans have not always been able to rely on. In his uniform of Harley-Davidson T-shirt, aviator shades and checked shirt tied around his waist, he attacked opener It’s So Easy with relish. It seems his 2016 stint as AC/DC’s replacement singer has revitalised him. The crowd sensed this was something special. “You’re too kind. How ya doin’?” he said. Slash, in his trademark top hat, his orange Les Paul gleaming, hasn’t aged a day.
Guns N’ Roses have never been just a metal band. They transcended the poodle-haired LA scene that spawned them by adding elements of punk, of Lynyrd Skynyrd and of Elton John and Queen into their songs. The set was peppered with nods to other heroes: The Who, Pink Floyd and Misfits. Ballad November Rain – no longer cheesy in this context, just suitably epic – segued into Clapton’s Layla. This was a band wearing its influences heavily, and they were all the better for it.
But they still sounded like no one else. In the 30 years since debut Appetite for Destruction was released, it has lost none of its rawness. We got all but four tracks from the album. As well as the sheer heaviness, we were reminded of the songs’ almost perfect structures. Is there a better opening to a hard rock track than the slow build of Welcome to the Jungle? Is there a finer guitar solo than the second one in Sweet Child o’ Mine, before the “Where do we go now?” singalong? Is there a riff as groovily menacing as
Mr Brownstone? I would argue not.
The big stadium rock of Guns N’ Roses has often been derided as overblown. Axl’s multi-octave howl and his habit of never singing “cry” when “cry-ee-ie-ee-ie-ee-ie” will do is almost as ludicrous as a topless Slash playing a wibbly guitar solo in a desert on his unplugged Les Paul, as he did in almost every Guns N’ Roses video. But that’s the point. Big stadium rock is inherently ridiculous. And when played in front of 80,000 people in its natural home – a vast cauldron like the former Olympic Stadium – it not only makes perfect sense but transports you somewhere thrilling.
I watched slack-jawed, arms aloft, as the biggest crowd I’ve ever seen leapt as one to final song Paradise City. Not in this lifetime? I’m so glad they changed their minds.