A staple of Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock, the hit of Guns n’ Roses’ discography is, for a generation, the song which seals your set at Big House Blues. Where the band will find themselves in the annals of history is up in the air. Welcome to the Jungle is a fine song indeed, but what else was there to define the decade? Appetite for Destruction does not come close to filling the hunger for hard rock. Their efforts after this debut piece waned. Guns n’ Roses’ legacy is more a hard merchandise sale than a hit song or two. Their t-shirt peddling efforts means everyone from Benidorm to Bratislava knows wearing the shirt embossed with the GnR logo is a sign to avoid conversation. A red flag for offensively tame music taste. Appetite for Destruction is nearing forty years and, in that time, the band has somehow not offered any album better than this. Their legacy is the speed at which they achieved fame, not the quality of their works.
There is no denying the concrete thrill, the never-changing brilliance of Welcome to the Jungle. Not quite at the same level of annoyingly overplayed as Sweet Child o’ Mine, but certainly an inevitable reference point for the band. One of three on Appetite for Destruction. Passing listeners will likely know little more than those three, but dig a little deeper, and there are some examples of hard rock at its vehement lowest, like Anything Goes. Slash remains an incredible guitarist who has an ear not just for the whining fret work but also knows how to counter the moans and groans of frontman Axl Rose. Those grunts and sex-adjacent shrill screeches are an uncomfortably embarrassing hang-up of his vocal style. Rose often finds himself matching the guitar pitch and makes himself useless.
Few are listening to the lyrics of this, thankfully not. Miserably hedonistic and lazily provocative material which lost its edge soon after release. Those brought up on Welcome to the Jungle and subscribe wholly to its sex, drugs, and rock and roll suggestions are just as likely to be offended by a real trendsetting group with some power to their words, like Lambrini Girls or Kneecap. What we want when we lose ourselves to music is impressive instrumentals, the noodling we hear, and think is not humanly possible. Slash is the perfect addition, then. It is the solid rock root to this sensationalised glam rock slop. It is hard to disagree with what Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain said of the group. There is no deeper meaning to the wordplay, the lyrical choices or the thematic approach. Rock and roll with a heavy edge, blunted by time. Loud and hollow music will always have its place, but drudging through It’s So Easy is painful.
Monotone and muted at the best of times, it, along with many of the album tracks to follow, are uneventful pieces of stadium rock, noise that Kiss and Journey were ridiculed for, and rightly so. Passive rock tones with wailing guitar can only get you so far, and for a song like Out Ta Get Me, that is where the line can be drawn. The rest is the same, filler lyrical moments from Rose, who suggests people are out to get him, but that he is stronger than them. Not exactly daring material, but at least a message of note. Sweetly optimistic Mr. Brownstone is a light affair, but the “more and more” provides a surface-level truth. That is the best the band can do. There is better intensity and depth in accidentally dropping a pan on the floor. At least the suddenness, the fright, is an emotive reaction.
Appetite for Destruction is entirely reliant on the guitar work. Not a surprise for a rock and roll band, but considering the attitude Rose and the rest have, the reinvention of rock as a place where musicians could use excess as a cool image, listeners should rightly expect a better depth from the writing. Their desire to achieve nirvana, to attempt a life in paradise, as heard on Paradise City, is one of hedonism. The trouble is not their worldview but the way they explore it. Simply, is the nicest way to put it. When they reach the adrenaline rush highs, there is still a flatness to their sound, a sense of their purpose being met. Appetite for Destruction is fundamentally flawed but has some occasionally fun fretwork. Do with it what you will.
Its impact is of more importance than its instrumental structure or sound. Allusions to feelings and the glory days on Think About You are so lacking in specifics it feels insulting. We are to take the band at face value, but there is little worth to their word. An exceptional look at the times, but Appetite for Destruction has little under the surface. Slick rock and roll with some of the most identifiable guitar riffs of all. But with no heart to back it up, Guns n’ Roses has little chance at connecting on a deeper, more meaningful level with their listeners. Their talk of taboos of the time is not so much dated as it is never commented on with anything other than a glammed-out, hair metal rock sweep, a menacing grin where face value shock hides nothing at all. No sincerity, no style.
Good album