Those who stayed enjoyed a rejuvenated Rose. In 2002, when he last unshackled GNR from the studio sessions for the perpetually delayed "Chinese Democracy" album, Rose wasn't really ready to tour: his pipes were rusty, his physique chunky, and his band unable to click. He proved free of those ills this time as he howled through such barn-burners as "Mr.
Brownstone" and "It's So Easy" or mid-tempo epics including "November Rain," hitting even the high notes. Still sporting that baffling corn-row ponytail and looking tight around the forehead, the 44-year-old Rose nonetheless reclaimed his mojo. Big rock gestures drew attention to his agility: his patented snake dance, now more of a big-cat prowl but still commanding; speedy runs down the long side-stage ramps; even a leap atop the baby grand as Dizzy Reed (the only band member from GNR's glory days) played the rolling, unreleased ballad "The Blues.
" Rose's theatrics verged on mugging, but were perfectly timed. There was a bit of Sinatra-in-Vegas in his approach: Rose is aware that, this late in his career, his gestures could seem hardened, so he throws in a little emotional distance to epoxy the hits his way. What's grown more flexible is Rose's relationship to his band always an autocracy, but now one that leaves a little room for his subordinates to relax.
Guitarist Robin Finck, in particular, has grown toward something like equality with Rose; his solos flashed and bubbled, deviating enough from ex-GNR lead guitarist Slash's style that they gave hope that the new Guns N' Roses is becoming more than a replicant. The other two guitarists, Richard Fortus and Ron Thal, demonstrated killer chops but less brio, mostly hewing to notes that replicated the original versions. Still, when Fortus and Finck turned Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful" into a sky-is-crying style blues, Slash's memory was almost not quite washed away.
That guitar interlude was one of many allowing Rose to exit the stage, presumably to rest his voice and maybe slap Sebastian Bach on the back. (The Skid Row singer joined Rose onstage in a chummy run-through of GNR's "My Michelle.") His costume changes, though simpler than Mariah Carey's, were just as frequent, and those absences affected the set's pace.
The crowd's mood also sank when the "new" material surfaced. It's not that the prickly "Better" or the abstract but promising "I.R.
S." were weak; they just couldn't match the excitement of "Sweet Child O' Mine," songs that reinvented the power ballad, or the exquisitely bittersweet "Patience." Those certified classics got the throng singing, which energized the band, the electricity trickling up until Rose himself gained another layer of rock-star aura.
A few fans could be spotted singing along with the night's four unreleased songs; they're easily available on the Internet. "You downloading ..
. you're responsible for putting us on this gig," Rose chuckled in a rare bit of stage patter. GNR doesn't need Internet buzz to attract fans, any more than Bob Dylan does, but if Rose needs to believe online buzz is bringing GNR back into the light, let him fool himself.
Maybe he'll put "Chinese Democracy" up on iTunes.
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