Guns N' Roses - 'Use Your Illusion I & II' (Geffen)
4/5
By: Toby L
In these bloated times of stadium-rock appreciation/guarded in-jokes, Guns 'N' Roses are ever easier to, simply, take the mickey out of; band-departures and line-up shifts more common than Spinal Tap drummer-explosions, the seemingly never-ending delay of a new record that we truly wonder will ever see the light of day - 'Chinese Democracy' - and solos more pompous, indulgent and overblown than the notion of Aphex Twin taking a dump... Yes, the potential insults almost create themselves.
But, thanks to the glory of DVD-technology and denial, we can merrily bung on 'Use Your Illusion' 1 & 2 - a rampant live-show of the band amidst their peak in 1992, as caught in a Japanese enormodome - and pretend that the recent facades of yore ever even occurred.
This is a good thing too, because - despite all the ill press and association - Axl Rose and his (actually) barmy army were f**king good back in the day - a plethora of intoxicating, fist-in-the-air euphoric guitar-anthems, the shameless likes of which everyone else is simply too embarrassed to pen anymore (save for The Darkness, of course). And through these two packages of no-holds-barred performance and relentless showmanship, we can feel almost slightly drunk and dumb just simply watching Rose and Slash cheese their way through an unstoppable showcasing of the hits.
So, herein is a masterful selection of the rousing, and the even more rousing - where the piano-tinkling of 'November Rain' and stand-alone axe-wielding from Slash (complete with spotlight during his moment of fret-board wizardry, mid-song) are as sensational as a pelvic-thrusting 'Welcome To The Jungle' or climactic rendition of 'Paradise City'. Consistently, the six-strings soar in all their tenacious, greased-up, amped-to-the-max ridiculousness, and Rose spins and yells with the unbridled ease of relative youth, and - always - it's a riveting vision.
A prism-clear sound-split and masterful series of non-pretence, un-trendo camera somersaults - resultant in a sure-fire, frame-after-frame of faithfully catching der action - and this is a most favourable ensemble of images and noises, indeed.
And all caught in a stadium, fittingly, the latest reissue releases in G 'n' R's honour are a timely reminder of just where the kings of hair-metal (should) truly lay - in the past, never to return. RIP grandiose rock; don't even consider the reunion-tour. It'll just get cancelled repeatedly and the press will finally pick up on the receding hairlines.
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