2002-08-26 Docklands arena, London, England

Axl finds a change of gear

New band, new haircut and sound, same old destructive anger: the notorious singer is on to a winner

Burhan Wazir

Guns N’Roses
London Arena, E14

MORE THAN 10 years ago, W. Axl Rose and his group took to the stage in his home state of Indiana for the third gig of a tour that, by its close two years later, would make Guns N’Roses the biggest band in the world. That 1991 gig came after George Bush Snr had launched Operation Desert Storm against Saddam Hussein. ‘So I don’t know nothing about Iraq,’ sniffed Rose from the stage at the Deer Creek Music Centre, ‘but I know what the fuck’s going on out there and this band’s one of the only things these kids got.’

After the tour, Rose, by then a front-page tabloid rock star in the Jim Morrison mould, disappeared from view. There have been few sightings since. These days, he lives in a secluded mountain-top residence high above the Malibu coastline. He has spent nearly six years working on a new record, Chinese Democracy, that remains unreleased. Finally, last year, Rose emerged for a handful of low-key live dates. ‘I have traversed a treacherous sea of horrors to be with you here tonight,’ he told one audience.

Ten years on, however, against the backdrop of another possible war in the Gulf, and another Bush, Rose has finally gone public with a reconfigured Guns N’Roses. The original group - none of the other founding members are present in the current line-up - recorded four albums. First up was 1987’s debut, Appetite For Destruction, a vortex of sincere anger that introduced Rose and his band as a musical revolution against the Top Forty. The record produced a glut of hit singles, sold 15 million copies and continues to sell around 9,000 a week. Two followups, Use Your Illusions, Vol. I and II, were released on the same day in 1991. In the UK, record stores remained open past midnight for the first time to satisfy consumer demands.

The decade-long absence, however, has stripped Rose of his relevance. In his self-imposed exile, he has been out-manoeuvred by grunge and American punk rock. And like his contemporaries from the late Eighties, the most popular image of Rose is that of an insect-thin, volatile frontman, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and a red bandanna: he was a white male backlash against multicultural America.

Onstage at the London Arena, Rose looks surprisingly unchanged. His voice still alternates between a high-pitched siren, like a toddler in distress, and a nasal mumble. His flame-red hair, previously lank, is now braided neatly into dreadlocks underneath the bandanna.

And while Rose might have packed on a few pounds, his stage movements have their usual coiled fluidity. His signature sprints to the sides of the stage remain intact. The costume changes, however, have disappeared. Rose no longer wears kilts or T-shirts with the word ‘Martyr’ inscribed across them -at London Arena, he wore a long sweat-top and black trousers.

In the absence of a new record, Rose and his fledgling group play material primarily culled from Appetite For Destruction. The new line-up - featuring three guitarists and a bassist - gives GN’R a contemporary sound. The subtly rearranged ‘Rocket Queen' and ‘Mr Brownstone’ sound like Nine Inch Nails-inspired, bass-heavy punk rock. Likewise, the newer material, particularly ‘Rhiad and the Bedouins’, adopts dance rhythms, samples and hip-hop beats.

The hiatus, furthermore, seems to have won him a new generation of curious fans. Here, late-twentysome-thing men and women enthusiastically rubbed shoulders with nu-metal teenagers. The show occasionally lapsed into the kind of stadium excesses Rose was once famed for, however - including overlong guitar solos. If Rose can curb his band’s plethoric behaviour, he should have few problems re-establishing his relevance.

And let’s face it, a re-energised Rose, especially on this form, would help the state of music. Rose - who was defined by his anger, his obsession and his self-destructive tendencies - has undeniable appeal. And his teen anthems, like all great teen anthems, remain ageless. ‘They’re out to get me,’ he sang last Monday night. ‘They won’t catch me.’

Rock music has undoubtedly changed during GN’R’s absence. But Rose shouldn’t be miscast as a deluded recluse: he is a realist. The music industry has gone full circle, with young consumers once again tired of mass-produced pop. This time around, Rose might not yet be offering anything more substantial than a raised middle finger, but his new music could engender a reaction. Ten years ago, Rose gave rock music an edge of pure, authentic anger. In 2002, the contemporary charts again need a piece of his mind.