These are great days we're living, bros
Guns N’ Roses? Get fucked!
lol not a gunners fun obviously. funny shit.
lol not a gunners fun obviously. funny shit.
http://blogs.news.com.au/jackmarxlive/index.php/news/comments/guns_n_roses_get/Acting NSW Premier John Hatzistergos has described Sydney as “the major events capital of Australia,” a claim he made in reference to the forthcoming V8 Supercar Telstra 500 Championship. This event, he reckons, screened to “world-wide audiences”, will ensure that “New South Wales is well and truly on the big event map.” So who does the major events capital of Australia hire to provide musical accompaniment for this 21st century spectacle? Why, Guns N’ Roses, of course. Expect other sponsors of this cutting-edge event to include Fuzzy Felt, Scotch Beta Video Cassettes, Realistic CB Radios, Record Selector, Long Stubbies, 4711 Ice Cologne, Cabbage Patch Kids, Atari, Swatch Watches, Rubik’s Cube, Care Bears, Dungeons and Dragons, Tupperware, Polaroid cameras and the John Hughes Film Festival.
Guns N’ Roses have been relevant to nobody for the entirety of the 21sth century. Even in their heyday, they were an unintentional joke to all but those who thought Spinal Tap was a Four Corners documentary. While the rest of youth culture was at last having a big laugh at how absurd rock and roll had become, Axl Rose and co. were oblivious to the temper of the times, strutting about like serious nancy boys who’d stumbled onto the abandoned set of Easy Rider and looted Peter Fonda’s dressing room.
As a band, they were never anything more than just another loud, polished fart from a forgettable pack of stadium sluts (Motley Crue, Skid Row, Bon Jovi, et al) who contributed exactly nothing to the history of rock and roll, but simply took. Sounding for all the world like Cheap Trick with Ethel Merman at the microphone, Guns N’ Roses showed us nothing remotely new and displayed no dynamism whatsoever, their notion of a stage show being some flashy lights and some skipping, their idea of a ‘change of pace’ being a ballad so syrupy it would make Celine Dion gag. They were like a boy band reassembled in the shape of the hoariest cliché from the well-worn rock star handbook, the recording studio just a Tardis through which to screw groupies, score free booze and drugs, buy some shiny new Sunset Strip tattoos and hideous houses in Beverly Hills, where a man can impregnate his pornstar/centerfold/supermodel girlfriend before beating her up, chucking her out and badmouthing the bitch to the tabloids. Rock and roll stardom, come and get it.
One could argue that there never was a Guns N’ Roses any more than there was a Skippy, the band’s lineup having changed more often then the cast list from Neighbours (there have been no less than 22 members of Guns n Roses in 25 years). Today, the only original member is Axl, who has spent the last few years on stage routinely halting the music so as to tell people who are throwing things at him to “stop”, which is exactly what those who are throwing things at him are trying to get Axl to do.
But one doesn’t have to be a music critic to wonder what the hell Guns N’ Roses are doing headlining a moment for “world wide audiences” from “the major events capital of Australia”. I’m not one to insist on Australian content, but I can think of 100 Australian rock acts who would be more relevant and vital at a fraction of the cost (I dearly hope no public money is going into this engagement). By showing the world that we’re willing to pay to ship the carcass of Guns N’ Roses out here, we’re opening the door to all manner of superannuated musical ‘superstars’ who, anywhere else in the world, wouldn’t get a gig at a wedding. Australia is becoming like a daggy club in Las Vegas, the Argentina for aging rock Nazis. I noticed in the paper a few weeks ago some mention of a Government-level booking of Sting, who hasn’t had a hit in the computer age. I believe The Eagles are recently toured (their backstage requirements involving several boxes of Steradent, no doubt). Next we’ll have Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Culture Club, Thomas Dolby and Haircut 100 swamping the entertainment duties on Grand Final day.
I certainly hope those prefects we see on Border Security - the ones who are hailed as heroes for busting Chinese people with bags of seed - have got their rubber gloves strapped right up to their elbows on the day Guns N’ Roses come to town.