Friday, September 16, 2011

20 years gone: What if 'Use Your Illusion' would have been one disc?

At 11 a.m., an employee raised the metal gate in front of a record store – it may have been called Turtle’s – inside a Tuscaloosa, Ala. shopping mall to open for the day.

I’d been waiting outside the store for approximately nine minutes.

It was Sept. 17, 1991 and Guns N’ Roses, the reigning kings of hard rock, were finally releasing not one but two new albums, “Use Your Illusion I” and “Use Your Illusion II." This event was totally worthy of ditching a Biology 101 class, which was taught by a University of Alabama instructor so profoundly boring his last name should have been Ambien.

With tax, a purchase of both “Illusion” CDs totaled over $30. This amounted to more than half the money I had to get by on for the week. These were acceptable terms. Like many fans, I’d been waiting for this day for over four years, which is how long it had been since Guns dropped their lone full-length, the scorching 1987 debut “Appetite For Destruction.”

Speeding back in a white Honda Accord, which boasted only a cassette player, to my green-carpeted apartment, I couldn’t wait to jam the “Illusion” CDs into the stereo system. The anticipation was at level of which I’d experienced years ago at a friends' party while stumbling to a bedroom with a girl to get laid for the first time. (Incidentally, that rite of passage occurred to the strains of the Sammy Hagar-period Van Halen album “5150.")

Having heard some of the “Illusion” songs via bootleg and also at a Guns concert in Birmingham a few months earlier, it wasn’t a shock that their new music was more complex and sprawling than “Appetite” (which while containing undeniably hot playing and arrangements was much more direct).

In 2011, the word “epic” is totally played out, but there’s no better word to describe many “Illusion” songs, such as “Coma,” “Estranged” and, of course, “November Rain.”

As any super-fan would, I spun the “Illusion” LPs constantly for a week. Poured over the cover art and liner notes. Memorized lyrics and riffs. The Rod Stewart-goes-metal ballad “Yesterdays” quickly became a favorite, as did “Civil War,” a whisper-to-a-scream number that remains one of the best Guns songs ever.

But unlike the cheetah-lean “Appetite,” there was definitely fat on the “Illusion” discs.

Did we really need two version of the lullaby “Don’t Cry,” which had the same backing track but different lyrics? There were some cliché-riddled rockers too, such as “Bad Apples” and “Dead Horse.” And the least said of “My World,” which sounded like psychotherapy fed through one of Trent Reznor’s synthesizers, the better.

The prominent addition of synths, sound effects and bloated studio tinkering (the most inexplicable: occasionally dousing Axl Rose's leonine vocals in electronic goo) on “Illusion” was the antithesis of the bullet-hard “Appetite.” (Yes, I know there’s some synth on “Paradise City,” but it’s just a taste and not a major sonic component of the track.) In Slash’s 2007 self-titled autobiography, the Guns guitarist wrote that at one time he possessed a rough mix of “Illusion” before those superfluous elements were added. Unfortunately, Slash also wrote he has long since lost said mix.

The Guns N’ Roses arc has been told many, many times. They were going to be my generation’s equivalent of Led Zeppelin (and Axl and Slash our Plant and Page), then, quite suddenly, it didn't pan out. I’m still a massive fan. Even though I wonder what might have been…What if Guns were together enough to follow "Appetite" with a full-length album of sharp acoustic songs, instead of the five that appeared on their 1988 EP “Lies.” (Clearly, this would be an unprecedented and dichotomous pair of records.) And then, the coup de grace - an ambitious yet airtight third LP. Yes, a single-disc version of “Use Your Illusion” would have completed a rock ‘n’ roll triptych for the ages. Below are the 15 songs and running order that should have been on there, paired down from the 30 tracks released on the “Illusions” discs. Oh well, there's always iTunes, right?

“You Could Be Mine”

“Bad Obsession”

“Dust N' Bones”

“Garden of Eden”

“Civil War”

“Pretty Tied Up”

“Back off Bitch”

“Don't Cry”

“Perfect Crime”

“Locomotive”

“Yesterdays”

“Knockin’ on Heaven's Door”

“Coma”

“You Ain't the First”

“November Rain”

Friday, September 2, 2011

Chris Robinson's psychedelic soul sabbatical


“It may seem like we take a lot of time between songs. That’s because there’s no time in our dimension…and we have the passports to prove it.”

And so a bearded and barefoot Chris Robinson addressed the crowd Thursday before the Black Crowes frontman’s solo band kicked into their fifth song of the night. The ensuing tune, a spirited cover of the Grateful Dead’s “Bertha,” ignited a roomful of noodle-dancing inside Birmingham, Ala.'s Workplay Theatre.

Robinson, 44, still has those soulful pipes. However, the bolt onto which they are woven in Chris Robinson Brotherhood, his newest side-project, is a different hue than The Crowes’ loud, Faces-meets-Allmans boogie. CRB is more akin to the sticky, blue-eyed R&B of Delanie & Bonnie. There’s a half-ounce of ’60s Marin County-style jamming in there, too.

Of the three or so configurations of Robinson’s solo bands, this one seems the most in-tune with the music he’s gravitated toward as he’s gotten older.

That said, the Workplay show was slow out of the gate. “Tomorrow Blues” is pretty woozy for an opening song, although the spaceship-like noise Adam MacDougall conjured from his bunker of vintage keyboards did not go unappreciated.

A strolling “Roll On Jeremiah,” a bluegrass-y track from the Crowes 2009 double-LP “Before the Frost...Until the Freeze,” followed.

By the third number, “Tough Mama,” CRB settled into its wheelhouse. A tight, stoned amalgamation, punctuated by hirsute guitarist Neal Casal’s spidery Jerry Garcia licks, plucked on a crimson Gibson SG. MacDougall’s wah-wah blurts greased the wheel.

Later in the first set, CRB delivered a new, standout gospel-tinged ballad, “Star or Stone.” Yes, the first set. After an hour-plus run through eight songs, the California-based quintet took a 30-minute or so break – How many bong hits do you need, bros? - returning to play for another 90 minutes or so.

The second set belonged to drummer George Sluppick and bassist Mark Dutton. The duo’s trance-y yet rootsy groove was unrelenting, with Sluppick working his blue kit from underneath a 10-gallon cowboy hat while the afro-ed Dutton laid down thick lines on a vintage cheapo bass. The rhythm section’s acumen was particularly evident on “Ride,” an absolute booty shaker.

In addition to belting out his trademark vocals, Robinson, clad in faded tie-dye and jeans, played crystalline-toned, chicken-scratch rhythm guitar on every song. He even pulled off a few solid-if-simple blues solos on his orange Vox guitars.

The striding “Sunday Sound,” which like “Ride” is from Robinson’s otherwise mellow 2002 solo debut “New Earth Mud,” drifted on a mid-tempo river. “Girl on the Mountain,” from the singer’s underrated 2004 “This Magnificent Distance” LP, was a druggy mist.

The band’s encore, a roll through Willie Dixon’s “Seventh Son,” was more chill than thrill.

But Robinson is clearly in his own skin playing psychedelic soul music. It’s an age-appropriate vocation. I can't imagine Robinson in his 40s crawling around the stage with his shirt half-unbuttoned and pretending to be Mick Jagger, like he was the first time I saw the Crowes live, at a 1990 show opening for Robert Plant in a Birmingham arena.

Chris Robinson looks a lot happier now.