Guitar World - Top Of The Heap

Guitar World - January 1994
by Brad Tolinski

TOP OF THE HEAP

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GUNS N' ROSES
The Spaghetti Incident?
Geffen

IT WAS A rallying cry for dirtbags of all persuasions. With their 1988 debut, the now-legendary Appetite For Destruction, Guns N' Roses established themselves as the age's industrial-strength pop culture trash compactor, GN'R devoured slop from America's vast teenage landfill and vomited a grand, greasy slab of platinum-coated solid waste. Chunks of L.A. glam-metal, Midwest alienation, Seattle punk all were compressed into a violent soundtrack for the beer-swilling, dirty masses. In short, an all-encompassing bag of venom for a rootless Generation X.

Appetite was a hard act to follow, and, not surprisingly, Lies and Use Your Illusion I and II didn't really do the trick. The Illusion albums were impressive in their scope and ambition, but they never captured the debut's ferocity. Like the Las Vegas Elvis, I and II were big, bloated, and somewhat directionless; void of the lean, sinister power and street humor of their first effort. The Guns' garbage disposal was jammed with self-righteous anger and arena rock grandeur at the exclusion of Destruction's streetwise piss and vinegar.

Now, with The Spaghetti Incident? it appears that GN'R's "appetite" has returned.

On the surface, this new Guns album is simply a tribute to some of the music that originally inspired them to pick up their instruments. Cynics may declare it simply to be a holiday gift of punk anthems and glam obscurities, designed to hold the band's fans over until they record their next magnum opus. But Incident is much more. Like battery acid, this "tribute" album strips away Illusion's pomp and circumstance and returns the band to the mean streets where they belong. By recording songs by The Dead Boys, Iggy Pop, Fear, and the Misfits, among others, the band liberates itself from the pressure of being Guns N' Roses. And they rise to the challenge of their new circumstances by attacking each song like a pack of starved dogs tussling for rancid meat.

Their performances are terrifying, funny, and terrific. Their versions of The Damned's "New Rose" and The New York Dolls' "Human Being" are clearly the work of musicians who've been on the road for over two years. Tight, fast, and furious, they flatten the listener with the machine-tooled precision of a Japanese supertrain.

Slash, in particular, shines throughout. The many months of roadwork have honed his chops to an extraordinary degree. Although he is still pretty much restricted within the confines of the blues pentatonic, his phrasing and fluidity have improved by leaps and bounds. Whether he is pounding out barre chords like a fifth Ramone on The Damned's "New Rose" or soloing majestically on the album's centerpiece, "Ain't It Fun," he is consistently spot on.

On "Human Being," Slash and rhythm guitarist Gilby Clarke are locked in with telepathic synchronicity. The two guitars become one, bobbing and weaving as they insert fills without ever losing the groove. In addition, Slash delivers some of his finest lead playing to date, his creamy-sounding Les Paul chewing up tape like Eric Clapton on steroids. When Axl lets loose with a long, slobbering "Yeaaahhhh!" at the song's finale, you know exactly what he is talking about.

What is a compactor without a little white trash? GN'R were born to cover Nazareth's unwashed classic, "Hair Of The Dog." The earth rumbles. Slash's talk box barfs blood and razor blades. And Axl screams, "Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch," until his face turns blue. In the kingdom of rock and roll, this is a good thing.

It may seem a little odd to gush over an album that is intended to be a curio, but I see The Spaghetti Incident? as an important turning point. It is the sound of a band that has regained their sense of humor and sense of purpose.