The Non-Event of the Century!
"It's comedy, not fucking Chekov"
-- Actress Cher on the struggle to put together a simple movie after going through four directors and 50 script changes on the set of "Mermaids" in 1989/1990
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15 years of temper tantrums, record industry in-fighting, and strange Howard Hughes-like behavior has produced this "B-" effort. I managed to get a-hold of it two days before the semi-official release, when Axl was apparently going to debut "his opus rex" on "MySpace". By the time you have all the gawkers and curiosity-seekers and fanboys and retards and other assorted human garbage, the site would be so jammed you couldn't really hear the music anyhow-- when it all comes in with jagged bits & streams as you hovered around, trying to grasp every note. So I said "SCREW YOU, ROSE. I'M GOING TO LISTEN WHENEVER I WANT". Some unfinished songs got leaked about two or two-and-a-half years ago and Axl's girlfriend, or housekeeper, or psychic, or manager, or whatever pleaded with everyone not to download it because "it would be like opening your presents two days before Christmas!". Well for all I knew, Christmas never came and "Axl Claws" would get catty "and not give his gift to the world". That is, when he's not tending after his tanks of snakes and tarantulas.
Would I honestly pay money for this album, considering the ego and overall debauchery that went into it? The answer is a resounding "NO!" After the way Axl has treated his fans, his band-mates, his record company, and the whole world, I don't care if he loses his entire fortune that has been mortgaged on this mediocre "piece of shit". I wouldn't pay $5 to see what is passed off as "Guns n' Roses" because Axl is so terminally unreliable!
But I'm not totally capricious, and I
had to give the record about four or five spins before I could make any sense of
it. There's good material here, no doubt-- but it doesn't particularly sound
like my favorite band. Most of the songs kind of reach for a boring, mid-range,
semi-techno beat that sounds excruciatingly over-processed that you try to choke
down like flashy, yet polyester, over-processed "Skittles".
The trick about "Chinese Democracy", especially by the time you get to the more-inspired last third, is that the songs kind of "grow on you" like mold as you fall into Axl Rose's obsession. But you want the feeling of malt liquor spreading out warm and dizzy in your belly and pumping your fist in the air with a mane throwing sweat, not this album that feels like it has been festering in an all-too-digital basement. . . . . circa 1996/'97.
Nothing on this album feels "off-hand", no moments of wild revelry or drama that absolutely sweep you up in the recording, and the creative spark feels stifled. At best, in our digital age you belt it out live or jam on it in "sound-check" but don't sit there endlessly getting drunk or stoned playing around with the digital mixing process to the point of unholy obsession.
I've been in the presence of enough recording studios and radio stations and heard enough about how the industry works to be very cynical about how albums come to be made, and how "this ain't no holy space of the artist". But at least I know that in this rotten media machine I am not paying for anyone's "nose candy". The only democracy I believe in especially is the right to raise my middle finger. . . . . and that's what makes America great!
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"You want a-nuther song? Well I ain't plain' one mutherfuckin' note until someone comes up here and puts sum money in my god-damned tip-jar! You know I only came here for one purpose. . . . . to take yor fuckin' cash! Why, I could make more profit puttin' out my meth-head neighbor's asshole and ringin' a bell, hollerin' 'Man for sale! Man for sale!'
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(Rheeee of Crickets)
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("I heard that, Missy!")
© 2008 by Insufferable Industries
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