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Axl Rose: the Bob Barker of rock!

By SEAN DALY
Published October 27, 2006

TAMPA - If I were Axl Rose and I thank the Lord every day that I'm not, I would do something truly rock-star grotesque on the current Guns N' Roses tour.

Like cancel upcoming Canadian shows due to "sanitary reasons."

Or insult Johnny Cash.

Or brain someone with a microphone stand.

'Cause at a time when rock 'n' roll is a safe, solemn universe desperate for a dangerous star, one of the most volatile frontmen in history now seems so . . .

Safe. Solemn.

Xanaxed.

Don't get me wrong. Rose, who brought his makeshift rock band to the St. Pete Times Forum on Wednesday, can still be a pain in the tuchus. He disapproved reporter and photographer media credentials at the last minute. His show started at midnight and didn't end until 2 a.m., sending many of the 10,522 fans home early. And the attendance was lower than it should have been mainly because Axl is a classic no-show.

Most glaring of all, I still blame the 44-year-old nutter for breaking up the original G'n'R lineup: guitar legend Slash, charismatic bassist Duff, et al. Instead, Axl has opted for a backing band that can rock and rock hard, but doesn't know the first thing about living on the edge.

And edge - that intangible rock-star quality of instability and excitement - is what Axl and the Gunners are missing these days. (No, his recent scuffle with that dope Tommy Hilfiger doesn't count as edge. That's just good sense.)

Was Wednesday's show entertaining? You bet. When the house lights finally dimmed and Slash replacement Robin Finck (of Nine Inch Nails) picked out the opening lick of Welcome to the Jungle, I felt like I was 17 again, listening to the jaw-dropping blues-metal brilliance that is 1987's Appetite for Destruction.

More good news? Axl has been famously reclusive for almost 13 years, so he's rather well-preserved in a Howard Hughesian amber. He's a bit thicker in the torso, and those unfortunate cornrows make him look like a rasta leprechaun, but the guy can still slither-dance all over the stage and dutifully bring you to your n-n-n-n-knees.

And although his high-holy wail took a little while to warm up (the band played over him at first, perhaps on purpose), on the final chorus of Knockin' on Heaven's Door, he reared back and fired a doozy, a rageful, punky shriek that time-traveled two decades.

It's weird to accuse a famous head case of being professional, but that's what Axl Rose has become: an efficient showman. After an explosive cover of Live and Let Die, he greeted us like a game-show host: "Hello, Tampa. It's very, very, very nice to be here." He gave faithful, loving renditions of all the hits: Sweet Child O' Mine, You Could Be Mine, Patience and an epic November Rain, for which he took a turn on a baby grand.

Throughout, he was efficient and sweet and normal. When bassist Tommy Stinson (of the Replacements) made a whispered request, Axl even obliged with "a love ballad": the murderously funny Used to Love Her. His new songs from the umpteen-years-in-the-making Chinese Democracy album (out any day now . . . really!) were even tame, save for Better, which has legit switchblade edge.

It was all perfectly fist-pumping and ear-ringing. But I must be honest: When Axl invited opening act Sebastian Bach to duet on My Michelle, I was secretly hoping he'd bash the Skid Row singer in the head. You know, just for old-time's sake.

Sean Daly can be reached at sdaly@sptimes.com or (727) 893-8467. His blog is at blogs. tampabay.com/popmusic.

[Last modified October 27, 2006, 00:35:05]