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My Take on Chinese Democracy
To begin with, the following painfully obvious statement has to be re-iterated. This album has almost nothing whatsoever to do with the Guns N' Roses of old. The name may be the same, as is the singer, but that's it. So, as a result, there's obviously no point whatsoever in comparing this to Appetite For Destruction or Use Your Illusion. Think of this as Axl Rose's Democracy if you really must, but there you go - the big whopper, laid out like somebody on the wrong end of an Amir Khan punch. It's time to leave Slash, Izzy, Duff, Steven, Gilby and Matt alone, and concentrate on this line-up of players, and Axl's particular Magnum Opus. Does it create a lasting account of Rose's genius as a songwriter and make that 13-year and 11 million dollar development cycle worthwhile?
In short, No.
In long... Well, it wouldn't be a very useful review if this weren’t explored further, right?
Album opener, title track and first single (Remind you of any other controversial albums of recent years, anyone? Answers on a postcard, or just wait till the end) Chinese Democracy gets things waddling in somewhat an awkward manner, like they had no idea whatsoever how to make it related to the album title in question, but the poor old engineers and producers were determined to crow-bar this crap in somehow. Anyway. It does somewhat take away from the edge of what without that is a functional, if somewhat under whelming rock song. It's not so much a brutal statement of intent so much as a “Are you sure about this?” which considering its' development cycle, is to be expected, but still disappointing.
Virtuoso-happy Shackler's Revenge comes next, with again, no real drive to its Buckethead-saturated riff-play (may I remind you here, that he had quit the band 4 years prior to the album's release. Imagine most bands trying that today - there'd be more lawsuits than dubious addresses of messages in my junk filter - how many Nigerian Generals live in the Philippines, anyway? It boggles the mind). This number at least does keep a more recognisable rhythm to it, but it still does imply it was only included to keep the rock-nuts happy.
Third track Better however, whilst the same song from the 2006 leaked demos, has a lot more of a definite purpose to it. If this were a taste of what the body of this album had in offer, it would've had much more impact. As it is, it's a benchmark - and this is a power ballad. Not to take anything away from that particular song, but it does have the feeling that the Rock and Roll section of the album is very much forced. Had Rose been allowed to write some 14-15 piano-driven ballads, things might have had a very different outcome.
Which brings me neatly to Street Of Dreams, the first of those numbers. The first thing that struck me about this was it sounds really quite similar to the Use Your Illusion ballads, almost like an off-cut from - I'm daring to say it - the old days of a band that's been dead for 13 years. Make your own conclusions, (and to be fair, the modern-day guitar work does dispel a lot of this behind a flurry of high-end distortion and effect trickery) but to me, that just comes across as indecisive, lazy and self-indulgent. Which of course, this album is absolutely full of. If it were any more so, the videos would be full of lap-dancers wearing ginger Axl-wigs, with knots tied in the invisible skirts at awkward angles, while the man himself strutted around on a motorcycle with the tyres on fire.
If The World seems to have this aimless meandering trick nailed by now, ambling between Latin-influenced acoustic riffs, almost nu-metal style licks and an over-eager percussion department. There Was A Time carries on in a similar vein, trying to decide whether it wants to be an OTT power ballad or something a little heavier, and lands painfully in the middle.
Now, I've made pointers towards the amount of needless recording that's been made on this album, but There Was A Time is the best example by far. I am not kidding when the recording credits list 6 guitarists (including Herr Rose himself), 2 drummers, 2 bass guitars, and 4 piano/keyboardists. And that's before I list the near half-century of orchestra band-members, arrangers and such-like. I'd hate to see the 30th anniversary tour where they try and get everybody onstage for this one. Catcher In The Rye follows this confused but eager number with something definitely more geared towards a Rose-specialist ballad. It’s also around this area that an actual sense of musical direction starts to slowly pervert proceedings. I was almost shocked myself when I found this out – okay, sure, so there are parts which could really do with an edit and a trim-down, but you can actually tell everyone’s got the right idea, which is a blessed relief (and also stops your mind wandering to what’s going on with Velvet Revolver these days). Scraped also has that definite sense of “We know what we’re doing”, to prove lightning and logic really can strike twice in Axl’s world. The lyrics are somewhat dreadful, it has to be said, but the riffs are nice in a heavy fashion, and conveniently brought to the fore. It does somewhat signal that a renaissance is beginning to emerge in the record, that the various impressively diverse parts of the band are actually starting to fall into place. Riad And the Bedouins’ overly long introduction does a lot to completely shatter and then piss on the recently found sense of total immersion, tragically, proving Rose must have just been out of the office that particular week. The song itself is another musically good piece of work. Halfway in between Scraped and Better in terms of pace, it still works. That’s at least 4 worthwhile songs on this album thus far. Four does not make for a stand out record, people, but it does at least make it worth being picked up from the “2 for £10” bins it now lurks in. The self-indulgence is very much king, sadly, with Rose in particular never knowing when the right moment is to shut the hell up, but the signs are encouraging for the next number, Sorry.
In almost hilariously appropriate timing, Sorry winds out becoming the worst song on the album. The confused direction has long gone to chase its own tail, but it just comes across as lazy and arrogant this time. The line “What were you thinking?” almost becomes rhetorical. I know this is Rose retorting to his critics, but Christ, you’re not supposed to shut them up with Russian Roulette! It ambles with no direction, but as said before, this is more impatience than any sense of bemusement.
When I.R.S. kicks in, it’s a welcome sound to hear. Not just because Sorry is over, but also because this is a genuinely good song. Had either Buckcherry or Papa Roach released this song as a single, it’d be all over the charts – it’s insanely catchy, the lyrics work, the solos add to the song, rather than distract from it. The more low-key bridge before Rose’s main rant serves to build up tension in a great way. One of the highlights of this record, and if you can find a download, give it a whack. Madagascar, however, sadly does bring things back to the bad old days of laziness and arrogance of Sorry, but it is a slightly more interesting number than the aforementioned. A special mention should be made of the amount of Martin Luther King’s speeches that are used; he should be given a posthumous lyrical credit. Another re-appearance of the Use Your Illusion ghosts as well, as anyone who remembers the opening to Civil War will feel a combination of déjà vu and a stutter the late Ronnie Barker’s Arkwright would be embarrassed of.
The album’s final stand out moment, This I Love was originally licensed for a film released in the late 1990’s, but that does not take away from the sheer beauty of it. The combination of Rose’s very sincere vocals and the various pianos used tugs at your heart-strings like an over enthusiastic puppeteer trying to make his dog dance. And who-ever does the solo out of Finck and Bumblefoot – I owe you a pint, as it’s a superb job, that again compliments very well the low-key but very sincere feelings of the song. In fact, even though I promised I wouldn’t do this, I’d honestly rank this very favourably amongst Don’t Cry and November Rain. Okay, Axl. You win this round, but 1 gorgeous song does not a classic album make, and we’ve still one more song to dissect like a ninja with a Chainsaw.
Perhaps my previous sentence wasn’t the best choice as the final song is called Prostitute, but what the hell, I liked the imagery. This is another song that reeks of Rose’s self-indulgent side, and is a fitting sequel to the album’s stand out moment. It’s another workable song – not particularly remarkable in its’ own right, but by all means it’s easy on the ears, gets the feet tapping and ultimately serves as a fitting 5-minute taste of the entire album – mostly okay but uninspiring, with some real nice moments, but some serious dross to balance them out.
Also, if you do wind up buying the album, I will say this much. The album art is really nice – intricate paintings, well laid out, and how many bands have 4 guitarists credited as part of the line-up? Especially when one of them quit 4 years before, and at the time, Robin Finck had gone on holiday with his old school buddies at NiN.
To do the final sum-up of the last mountain of words – I’m glad I waited until the price dropped. It’s a serviceable album; the diversity only really coming together after somebody slapped them about a bit at half time, rather like a failing football team. After 13 years development and 11 million dollars, all this album has proved is that Axl Rose is a bit of an American Idiot. Which we knew to start with, which may sounds harsh but is also fair. Now, could you guys Please not take so damn long with the next record?
Comment Posted on: August 4, 2009, 06:01 PM
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