1987.06.19 - The Marquee, London, England

Opening up with Reckless Life and one of the new album, a thumping rocker called Out Ta Get Me, GN'R were met with a hail of plastic beer glasses and a shower of gob. I remember wincing as a big, sticky lump of phlegm stuck in Izzy's hair. Axl was having none of it. "Hey, if you're gonna keep throwing things we're gonna leave!" Jeers rang out, but by the end of the third song, You're Crazy, the barrage was over. Guns N' Roses had passed the test.

The Cult's singer, Ian Astbury, was so impressed that he went backstage after the show to invite the band to tour with his band in America. But Ashbury's enthusiasm wasn't shared by Sounds writer Andy Hurt. When Axl saw Hurt's review of the gig, in which his singing was likened to the squealing of a hamster with its balls trapped in a door, he was livid and led the whole band to the Sound's office in Mornington Crescent, north London. "Andy Hurt?" he raged. "He fucking will be if I find him!" But the reviewer was absent, so Axl contended himself with a warning note left with another member of the staff [...][20 Years of Appetite, Classic Rock Magazine, JUly 2007]

Sleaze comes to London in the form of Smog Angeles' latest exponents of 'Fashion-Made Hard Rock'- Lines n' Noses (whoops, sorry, I mean Guns N' Roses).

Believe me readers, I'd been looking forward to this gig for a long time, having already been mightily impressed with the lads' Live ?I*@ Like A Suicide EP. I was sure that this show wuz gonna be a real smoker, but - shock-horror-it ended up being a bit of a, dare I say it, CHOKER!

So where did the band go wrong? Well, as they used to say on that old Colt 45 commercial, and I quote, 'Never bolt a Colt'. And that's exactly what happened here in The Marquee tonight - Guns N' Roses blew it, pure and simple.

Some punters down the front obviously saw through the bullshit that was spewing forth and proceeded to spit and throw the odd can of beer at lead singer W. Axl Rose, who returned the compliment by saying, "Fuck you, pussy".

He really did look well and truly pissed off, and this incident ended up putting a downer on the show as a whole.

On the plus side Guns N' Roses do write good time rockin' toons, it's just a pity they all sound like Aerosmith outtakes mixed in with the odd hint of Rose Tattoo. Hell, I'm not complaining, I love both those bands, but did Guns N' Roses really need to do a cover version of the Aerosmith classic Mama Kin? I think not.

The 'best number of the night award' went to the brilliant It's So Easy, which just reeked of the Lightning Raiders (RIP), who were playing this sorta music back in the late 70s.

It has to be said that I left The Marquee in a very confused state, coz here was a band that has just made a truly wonderful album, the up and coming Appetite For Destruction, which I love, yet at the same time it's sad they just couldn't reproduce that rawness live. I blame it on those beer cans that were hurled at Axl!

SHOOT IT UP

GUNS 'N' ROSES
Marquee, London

THEY referred to gals as "chicks" so, of course, they deserve to die like dogs but there was enough about the stalking swagger and grinning sweat of Guns 'n' Roses during their London debut to convince that their tiny controversy hasn't all been hype.

They're alien, they can all hang a fag like Bogart, sheet-metal screecher Axel Rose has affected a rather winning neanderthal lumber, they're more tattoo than flesh and, if there are DEGREES of sexism, theirs is marginally less absurd than their lingering forebears considering their lithe absence of beer guts, beards and wrinkles. At least in reclaiming heavy rock from the bottle and male menopause and reintroducing it to dizzy youth and dust, you can imagine Guns 'n' Roses actually doing all the screwing their songs claim - something Ozzy or Coverdale can doubtless barely REMEMBER.

Indeed, it may well have been the female following - steeped, it seems, in some groupie fantasy circa '74 judging by the predominance of lurex slacks, fake leather, panda eyeliner and perfect curls that so disturbed the porcine HM contingent herded near the back muttering that "the Yankee crap" wasn't heavy enough.

Others, evidently, were disappointed by what they claimed was a lack of glamour and there was much bemoaning poor Hanoi Rocks who, apparently, did it bolder and better and far more beautiful a few years back. But that's Guns 'n' Roses' sole trump card - their timing is immaculate so the look and action and sound (weak AC/DC) may be the same but the era is generous not to insist their every gesture be pickled in irony.

Certainly Guns 'n' Roses aren't an explosion in the quarry of rock but neither are they a chip off the old block - they appear to follow instinct rather than tradition or style and that such throwbacks have been thrown up at the forefront in '87 isn't so surprising since the upsurge of extreme black music has deemed the current pop currency be loud and proud and egocentric.

But, for all their noise, when the static dissipates, nothing granite remains. All their stuff, even the single, "It's So Easy", lacks anything monumental - a hook or riff or, dammit, a SONG - though "Night Train" almost got by on Stonesy bluster alone.

Significant, then, that Guns 'n' Roses’ best received number all night was Dylan's "Knocking On Heaven's Door". But more significant still was surely the fact that the Marquee crowd largely loathed them. They must be doing SOMETHING right.

STEVE SUTHERLAND

Steve Sutherland wrote:
Guns N' Roses : Greatest Hits
Score (4^1/2/5 stars)

This shit still sounds hot today...

The last thing I loved about Guns N' Roses was their music. On the contrary, I gave their UK debut at the old Marquee a right slagging back in June ”87; said they were silly, dumb throwbacks.

As a consequence, I received a phonecall from the singer, Axl Rose. He said the band were on the way to the airport in a cab and he wondered if I’d be in the office so they could swing right by and FUCKING SORT ME OUT!! Needless to say, I had a pressing engagement elsewhere but I had to admire their balls.

[...]

Misfit79 wrote:They were really not welcomed in England at first, were they? They came back a few months later and were better received, I think.
Funny how they seem to pin the start of their success here but the reviews are terrible!

NEW BALLS PLEASE!
 
GUNS N’ ROSES
Soho Marquee
 
AND? OK, so I know Guns N’ Roses have been knocking around L.A. for years, but I’d been expecting something, well, new. But both musically and visually, they’re a hybrid of the softer periphery of heavy metal and the fag-in-mouth bar boogie of the Georgia Satellites and their ilk.
 
The twin guitars fire up, and the who-can-look-most-like Peter Frampton contest is on. There’s no denying that there’s an abundance of vitality onstage which rapidly infects the audience and a couple of metaloid colleagues among the congregation are totally impressed. But to my ears and eyes, this lot are expending their energy by running on the spot, taking leaves out of numerous other bands’ books without ever worrying too much about the quality of the material, which is consistently alright.
 
My main problem is with the singer. Yes, he does bob and weave like any self-respecting frontman should, and he has the Farrah Fawcett hair and the tattoos and the bad language, but that voice drives me up the bleeding wall.
 
If a six foot-tall hamster masquerading as a GI had the misfortune to be captured by the Vietcong and subjected to the dastardliest of tweaks and prods, it should emit noises similar to those made by Axl. His voice is the voice of Bon Scott with one terrified bollock stuck on the plane, too petrified to take the freefall into the scrotum below.
 
According to Axl, the set progresses from ‘Eek’ (a lively enough rocker) via the Bo Diddleyish ‘Eek Eek’ through to their best and penultimate song of the set, ‘Eeeeeeeek’.
 
18 hours earlier I’d been watching Spinal Tap on TV, and evidently so had the drummer, for at the end of each song he’d leap up from his stool and point a drumstick at the audience. Rock ‘n’ roll! Sadly, though, they played no selections from ‘Sniff The Glove’.
 
It would not be fair to say that Guns N’ Roses have no bollocks, as this is just not the case – they do have one.
 
ANDY HURT
 
***

Caption: GUNS N’ ROSES Axl heavy metal hamster

Blackstar wrote:Review by Steve Sutherland, probably in NME:

SHOOT IT UP

GUNS 'N' ROSES
Marquee, London

THEY referred to gals as "chicks" so, of course, they deserve to die like dogs but there was enough about the stalking swagger and grinning sweat of Guns 'n' Roses during their London debut to convince that their tiny controversy hasn't all been hype.

They're alien, they can all hang a fag like Bogart, sheet-metal screecher Axel Rose has affected a rather winning neanderthal lumber, they're more tattoo than flesh and, if there are DEGREES of sexism, theirs is marginally less absurd than their lingering forebears considering their lithe absence of beer guts, beards and wrinkles. At least in reclaiming heavy rock from the bottle and male menopause and reintroducing it to dizzy youth and dust, you can imagine Guns 'n' Roses actually doing all the screwing their songs claim - something Ozzy or Coverdale can doubtless barely REMEMBER.

Indeed,  it may well have been the female following - steeped, it seems, in some groupie fantasy circa '74 judging by the predominance of lurex slacks, fake leather, panda eyeliner and perfect curls that so disturbed the porcine HM contingent herded near the back muttering that "the Yankee crap" wasn't heavy enough.

Others, evidently, were disappointed by what they claimed was a lack of glamour and there was much bemoaning poor Hanoi Rocks who, apparently, did it bolder and better and far more beautiful a few years back. But that's Guns 'n' Roses' sole trump card - their timing is immaculate so the look and action and sound (weak AC/DC) may be the same but the era is generous not to insist their every gesture be pickled in irony.

Certainly Guns 'n' Roses aren't an explosion in the quarry of rock but neither are they a chip off the old block - they appear to follow instinct rather than tradition or style and that such throwbacks have been thrown up at the forefront in '87 isn't so surprising since the upsurge of extreme black music has deemed the current pop currency be loud and proud and egocentric.

But, for all their noise, when the static dissipates, nothing granite remains. All their stuff, even the single, "It's So Easy", lacks anything monumental - a hook or riff or, dammit, a SONG  - though "Night Train" almost got by on Stonesy bluster alone.

Significant, then, that Guns 'n' Roses’ best received number all night was Dylan's "Knocking On Heaven's Door". But more significant still was surely the fact that the Marquee crowd largely loathed them. They must be doing SOMETHING right.

STEVE SUTHERLAND