already know what happened. Those of you who don't, buckle up...
8:30pm - TAILGATE-A-PALOOZA
We get to the First Union Center (colloquially known as the “F.U. Center”) in Philadelphia about an hour after the show is slated to start. Will’s heard rumors that they don’t go on until 10pm anyway, so no damage done. (In retrospect we may have missed the earliest opening act, but I'm not sad). I’ve never seen this many tailgate parties in my life. Just about one for every row. And it’s cold out. People who look like they’ve never listened to GNR in their life (black men and women in their 30’s) are walking around trying to sell t-shirts. (Then again, I’m black and almost thirty and I own three of their CDs. But I still don’t LOOK like I listen to them).
After the now-routine patting down by the guards we enter and are given passes that allow us to buy tix for the Sunday night GNR show for only ten dollars more. Will is very tempted.
The crowd inside is a surprisingly eclectic mix. There’s a fair number of teenage girls. Plenty of biker-looking types (but a lamentable dearth of leather pants). Plenty of yuppies. Plenty of trailer folk. (You’d think rednecks and frat boys wouldn’t have any common ground. You’d be wrong.) And the age range is pretty wide. I’d say teens to early forties. I’m reminded at this point that this year marks roughly the 15th anniversary of Guns ‘N’ Roses. I’m less surprised by the older crowd.
We also see some people wearing buckets on their head.
An important thing to keep in mind at this point is that GNR isn’t really GNR anymore. Now it’s “Axl and a Bunch of Guys Who Were Never In GNR.” Not unlike the “The Rhythm Section of CCR and Some Other Guys” band I saw at the Harley Davidson Festival. Still, one band member has been added who’s a cut above the rest mostly because he has a funny name and wears a bucket on his head. I am speaking, of course, about Buckethead.
Buckethead is a sort of guitar virtuoso who wears a kind of sad-clown mask and a (presumably empty) Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket on his head. He doesn’t speak. He has a handler who speaks for him. He had a chicken coop built to record in for GNR’s new album - which hasn’t come out yet. There are Buckethead t-shirts for sale. Will passes up this opportunity in order to buy a GNR belt buckle for a friend of his who couldn’t make it.
Buckethead has his own fans. Unfortunately, their presence as individuals who love people who wear containers will not be a sufficiently calming influence on tonight’s proceedings.
9pm - ON THE SURPRISING LACK OF CROSSOVER APPEAL BETWEEN HIP HOP AND HEAVY METAL
I’d been pretty psyched when I’d heard that Mixmaster Mike might be opening for GNR. I didn’t take the audience into account when I got psyched. Mixmaster Mike is the DJ for The Beastie Boys and he’s a motherfucker. Even from the nosebleeds, watching him onstage (when the cheesy graphics don’t get in the way) is amazing. He’s able to play the turntables the way Steve Vai is able to tickle a guitar. He masters it in ways I can’t imagine pulling off myself. And for a while, this works. He has some fans in the audience. And he mixes in some hard metal to please the crowd.
And then there’s the guy two rows up wearing the Confederate flag bandana - Confederatehead. He and his friends are the first in our section to start the chant: “GUNS…AND…ROSES!!! GUNS…AND…ROSES!!!” (Anyone who’s heard their anti-press rant “Get in the Ring” will recognize the mantra). A few people join in and then it fades out. Fists in the air, he tries to rally more support. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. But as the show wears on and Mixmaster Mike does less mixing and more just putting records on (he starts to sound like someone indecisively flipping through a car radio, Will observes) the rest of the crowd begins to see Confederatehead’s point. By the last third of Mixmaster Mike’s set, just about the whole crowd is booing. And no amount of remixing “Immigrant Song” can assuage them.
Still, trooper that he is, Mike appears to finish out his set, his shouts of “What up, Philly!?” every third or fourth song having gone largely unanswered. He’s able to get cheers throughout the set by yelling out “Y’all ready for Guns ‘N’ Roses?” and I’m thinking to myself “Dude! You’re just making them angrier!”
I think the only reason he’s still alive is his Sixers jersey.
10pm - AXL, WAKE UP!
Mixmaster Mike finishes his set around 9:45pm to the delight of the audience. They start piping in recorded music again. By 10pm, the crowd has entered the “let’s cheer everytime a song ends cos’ that means the bands about to go on, right?” phase of the evening. These are Guns ‘N’ Roses fans. Don’t they know that the band is notoriously late? I don’t actually expect them until 11pm. I say to Will, “It’s 10pm - you know that means? That’s right, one hour until they wake Axl!” Much of the next thirty minutes is spent fabricating the wake-up routine of everyone’s favorite middle-aged bad boy.
10:15pm - Axl hits “snooze” for the third time.
10:20pm - Buckethead sits next to the bed quietly whispering “Aaax-uuuuhl” over and over again.
10:25pm - Buckethead grabs Axl’s nose, shutting his nasal passages and forcing him to wake up.
By 10:30pm it becomes clear that none of this has happened. However, we’ve had plenty to entertain us in the interim.
- The largest sign in the arena reads “Welcome to Comcast Country”. I spend a moment wondering what “flavor” is located in Comcast Country.
- Someone had the foresight to wear a Giants jersey in the middle of a sports arena in Philadelphia. A whole section yells “ASSHOLE” at him for about five minutes.
- Confederatehead divides his time between yelling and raising his fists in the air and chatting casually with the guy in the EVENT STAFF t-shirt. When he does sit down, it’s on the stairs next to his friend (well, I hope it’s a friend). I begin to wonder if Confederatehead actually has a ticket. I also flirt with the notion of changing my band’s name to EVENT STAFF in order to save money on promotional t-shirts.
- Of the numerous yuppie/fratboys seated in front of us, one is clearly more enthusiastic about this show than the others. This is evidenced by the fact that every time he comes back from getting a beer (which is often) he yells very loudly to his friends. This isn’t just “Hello!” or “Hey!” or “Rock On!” This is more like “AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” every five minutes for no reason whatsoever. I keep wondering if I should change him. It seems like he’s trying to be ironic, cheering mindlessly to mock fans who cheer mindlessly, but I’m beginning to think even he isn’t sure if he’s being ironic anymore. To his credit, Yellhead maintains his enthusiasm through the next phase of the night.
10:30pm - AXL, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS HOLY - WAKE! UP!
So, remember how after every song the audience would cheer? Now they’re booing. This is a bad sign.
The Rob Zombie song that we heard playing at the top of the hour is playing again - for the third time. This is also a bad sign. I offer to run out to the car and get some mix tapes for the people in the sound booth. I don’t think they hear me.
Of the myriad things the audience yells (besides “Booo!” and “Aaaasssshooole!” which sounds remarkably like “Axxxx-uuuuuhl”) is the chant “Sell some beer! Sell some beer!” which I’m assuming is because it’s after last call. Someone else yells “Sell some pot! Sell some pot!” I think this is a much better idea, as the crowd could use a “time out”.
As the hour grinds to a close, things begin to, uh, trickle from above. Pieces of paper. Cups. Little things. Like drops of rain before a storm. But I keep thinking that at 11pm the lights will go down and all will be forgiven.
11pm - HALLELUJIAH, IT’S RAINING CHAIRS!!!
11:05 rolls around and I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. I remember that GNR cancelled a show in Vancouver and the crowd rioted. I know that in previous tours GNR failed to show up or left early and there were riots. This wasn’t every show, though. The chances of actually attending a riot show are pretty slim. I then realize I beat the odds in Fantasy Football, too.
At this point, the sound guys in the open mixing booth in the middle of the floor (and crowd) below us do something that sound guys don’t usually do before a show. They cover up the equipment. Then they do something else a little out of the ordinary. They get into a huddle and make a run for it.
Then the ushers on the floor do something similar. They get into a little huddle. And then they run for their lives.
Hmmm. I think to myself. That’s strange.
Then all hell breaks loose.
As if on cue, the whole crowd roars and people start throwing everything available from the balcony onto the floor below. We get doused with what we hope is coke and I cover my head with my jacket as people around us start kicking their chairs. It’s pandemonium on the floor below and already many people have left. On the floor chairs are being kicked over a bit more easily (they’re not bolted down). Up where we are, the bolts don’t last long (what did the chairs ever do to anybody?) and up they come and down they go.
Someone on a cell phone in front of us says that there are about 50 cops parked outside.
Strangely, I’m not panicked. It’s a weirder feeling than that. It’s a feeling of “If I stick around here, something bad will happen. But I honestly don’t know how long I have to stick around before that something bad happens. And I’m a little curious.” Fortunately, we all come to our senses and decide to at least see what’s going on in the hallway. I figure things might be worse out there since there’s food and beer there for the looting, but when I peek I see that people are actually leaving in a pretty orderly manner.
We make a break for it.
In another strange turn of events, this is the easiest it’s ever been to leave a venue after (or I guess, technically in this case, before) a show. We’re out of the arena in under three minutes and out of the parking lot in about ten or fifteen. I went to see the Wizards play a few weeks ago and nobody rioted (or did much of anything, actually) and it took us a freakin’ hour to get out of the garage.
On our way out of the parking lot, I see two people each carrying pieces of chair to their car. I’m sure that will fill out that dinette set nicely.
And those same people from before are still trying to sell GNR tees in the parking lot. God bless ‘em.
Our half of the parking lot doesn’t really have any cops but the “front” of the building has many sirens. Not so much cop cars as trucks and a fire engine. When I left I didn’t see anything on fire but, y’know, better safe than sorry.
Diane points out that tonight “it really was the F.U. Center.”
As we get back on the freeway, she calls her cousin, a Philly local, who says that about ten minutes ago they announced that the show had been cancelled due to “inclement weather.” Funny, that weather didn’t stop Mixmaster Mike from making it to the show from the same location. (Later they report than an undisclosed member of the band was “ill”) Just say it: Axl had a hangover/overdose/litigation/hangnail and was unable to perform. We’ll understand.
If there’s one thing us Guns and Roses fans are, it’s patient and understanding.
“Said woman, take it slow
And things will be just fine
You and I just need a little patience.”
Too true, Axl. Too true.