Guns N’ Roses thrills with sweat, brawn, fury

Two-and-half hours in, Axl Rose continued unabated with the kung fu leg kicks, the wind sprints across the stage at The Joint at the Hard Rock, undulating his hips hard, like a stripper going all out to get some 20s tucked into his G-string.

He looked like he sounded — invigorated, defiant — a flared nostril in rock and roll form.

“I’ll kick your ass, like I said I would,” the Guns N’ Roses frontman sang on “Sorry,” a decidedly unapologetic tune, contrary to its title.

That number, a slow boiler with ringing power chords, is defined by the willfulness of the man who gives it its voice.

“You thought they’d make me behave and submit. What were you thinking?” Rose questioned in the song. “You don’t know why I won’t give in.”

We know why: Because he doesn’t have to.

Since forming in L.A. two-and-a-half decades ago, Guns N’ Roses has gradually been remade in Rose’s image.

Some of the songs may remain the same, but that’s about it.

Part of Guns N’ Roses’ initial appeal was their volatility.

They were so unstable and explosive, it was as if a vat of liquid nitrogen decided to start a seedy rock and roll band indivisible from the grime of the streets that they slithered off of.

They were five powder kegs of tattoos and ‘tude who sometimes did and sometimes didn’t get along with one another, occasionally acting out their differences on stage, in full public view.

As such, GN’R was always high drama, the musical precursor to reality TV.

But that’s all in the past.

Now the band has a clear leader to fall in line behind, with whom no one’s going to argue if they want to keep their job, and as such, they’ve replaced combustibility with professionalism, excess with execution.

Sure, these dudes still overindulge, only now it’s in the form of repeated solo interludes (some five in all at The Joint, not counting frequent jam sessions and a tune from bassist Tommy Stinson, which he sang early on in the show).

Many of these time killers came around the halfway point of the three-hour performance, fattening its midsection like musical chili dogs.

But these excess calories were mostly burned off by a fast, fuming start and finish, which bookended this thrilling show in sweat, brawn and fury.

You can take issue with this band in theory — that there is only one member in the lineup that performed on Guns N’ Roses’ watershed “Appetite for Destruction” album will forever be a sticking point in the minds of many fans — but not in practice, as they hammered through the GN’R repertoire with precision and aplomb.

GN’R currently features three guitarists (Izzy Stradlin look-a-like Richard Fortus, Slash look-a-like DJ Ashba and wild-card Ron “Bumblefoot” Thall), which may seem indulgent, until you heard the way they locked horns on a pair of AC/DC covers, “Riff Raff” and “Whole Lotta Rosie,” creating a downright concussive crunch that was akin to getting shoved in the chest by a schoolyard bully, or how they traded eruptive solos on hard rock jukebox standards like “November Rain” and “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”

They were a ceaselessly kinetic bunch, clambering atop a series of risers spread about the stage, engaging in more triumphant poses than a young boy’s G.I. Joe collection.

All this showmanship was matched with similarly ostentatious production values, as The Joint continually smelled of sulfur, the sinus agitating discharge from so many pyrotechnics being ignited.

Rose, the ringleader, was out in front of it all, smiling, spinning himself in circles.

His voice was like something treated with Rust-Oleum, its initial sheen preserved against the wear and tear of time.

And that’s not the only constant when it comes to the livewire singer: he still likes to make his fans wait.

On Friday night, the band took the stage a few minutes past 11 p.m., though, considering there were a pair of opening acts for the show scheduled for an 8 p.m. start, that could almost pass for promptness from this notoriously tardy bunch.

Not that it really mattered all that much any way.

“All I’ve got is precious time,” Rose sang during a show-opening “Chinese Democracy,” and three hours later, that time seemed in no immediate danger of running out.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at
jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.