Guns N’ Roses in Barcelona: Neither Brief Nor Concise

Whether they succeed or fail, bigger is better. When it comes to underwhelming or overwhelming, it’s always better to err on the epic side that overlooks the end, exhausting the audience to meet their expectations. These are the ideas that guide the current Guns N’ Roses tour, which visited Madrid two years ago and Barcelona seven times. Yes, it seems like a reasonable interval before fans return with a craving to see them, as, while they haven’t sold out all tickets, it’s almost disappointing when they do so a year in advance. Three hours of show felt excessive even for the die-hard fans. A case in point was the end of the one concert they held this Monday in Spain, at the Olympic Stadium in Barcelona, where the audience remained seated, clapping absentmindedly, in a lackluster and anticlimactic conclusion that only perked up with the last two songs, Nightrain and Paradise City. It didn’t compare to the apotheosis of other major shows where the excitement and excess of attendance take center stage. In trying to be overwhelming, Axl Rose, Slash, and their band set the bar higher than the situation warranted.

The band has misplaced the debate, focusing on their physical condition and appearance. The former is more than reasonable, with Axl running around until fatigue naturally set in. Mick Jagger has done a lot of harm by turning rock into a sport!, which, by the way, has prevented him from playing harmonica so he can keep running and singing in a quest for eternal youth. As for appearance, it’s no sin to gain weight; Elton John stopped being a sylph years ago, muscle tone is lost, Van Morrison never had it, and as for a cracked voice, just ask Dylan. But as if he were a young man and not a 63-year-old, Axl exerts himself, a bit like Raphael, and that’s when things fall apart. For example, in This Is Love, a ballad that was a letdown towards the end, Axl was singing normally when suddenly he raised his tone to a scream that even startled the seagulls passing by. Is not reaching the high notes of 40 years ago a sin? Isn’t it a law of life to adapt as best we can to the passage of time while celebrating that we have the fortune of aging? For Axl, the answers seem to be yes, yes, and no.

More excess: Slash must think that minimalism is a short man as he plunges headfirst into self-indulgence. He plays the guitar well and his fingers are very nimble, but filling songs with his pyrotechnic demonstrations blurs them in a reenactment of the guitar hero that isn’t really in tune with the times. This indeed makes them feel older, not the weight gain, which isn’t even that significant. Moreover, Slash performed a guitar solo that began with a blues tone, raising some hope quickly buried under the cascade of high notes so characteristic of him. There were even songs, like Rocket Queen, that featured two guitar solos, one from Richard Fortus and one from him. Two cups like bowls. Yes, they’ve always done it this way and aren’t likely to change; excess in every sense has accompanied them their entire lives.

The concert, marked by a repertoire that included slight changes and alterations in the order of the songs, opened with two tracks that would have been better suited to the end, rather than ballads like Wichita Lineman, a cover of Jimmy Webb, and Patience, both with Slash on acoustic guitar. Welcome To The Jungle and Mr. Brownstone were the ones that fired up the crowd at the start, quickly followed by Out Ta Get Me. The eighth song, Live And Let Die, cover of Wings, revitalized the audience again, upheld with You Could Be Mine, with people pulling out their phones and fired up with another cover, Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door by Dylan. Just after, in Hard Skool, Axl began to scream, which he continued to do in Yesterdays. And yes, when he started bellowing from scratch by taking a breath he managed to reach some high notes, although it’s unknown if his intention was more to demonstrate that he could still do it. The audience, many wearing shirts showing support for the band, was respectful, empathetic, and eager to make the ticket investment worthwhile; they gave it their all, but the concert rarely lifted them from their seats except for a few moments. The momentum never picked up speed; the avalanche never occurred, and the show plateaued with some peaks: euphoria was indeed provided with minimalism.

Furthermore, the visuals were also lackluster, reflecting in images what the songs explained. In Chinese Democracy, there were red dolls crushed by a hammer; in Civil War, skulls, gunfire, tanks, and ruins; and rain in November Rain. And so on. It’s always better to reiterate for clarity, the Californians seem to think. Before November Rain, a highlight of the concert, Sweet Child o’ Mine played, another peak, and with almost 10 songs left to go, an attempted sprint towards glory turned into a stroll toward apathy, marked by a setlist of lows that was only uplifted by the cover of Down On The Farm by the UK Subs sung by Duff McKagan, a historic member of the group. In the penultimate song, they even delivered a half-time piece, Estranged, with a piano solo to keep the seats filled while the crowd began to make their way out. After three hours of music, the concert concluded, making it clear that neither Axl nor Slash have read Gracián on brevity and conciseness.