Irrespective of the quality of the songs, that does not look like good spaghetti. A tipped can of offensive, nutrition-free slop is a nice visual for Guns n’ Roses work, though. The Spaghetti Incident is more than an incident, it’s a nightmare. Notoriously poor. But can anything be salvaged from the mould-coated pasta? No. The Spaghetti Incident deserves the foul reputation it has. A covers album from one of the most recognisable voices in music history. Far from one of the best, though. Few can say they were crying out for a cover of Raw Power or a song written by Charles Manson. It’s the predictable edginess of rock and roll frontmen. Sometimes snobbery is necessary. It means you can avoid hearing Guns n’ Roses rip apart The Damned, Sex Pistols, and The Stooges. Artists whom Rose would happily offer as alleged influences but would learn nothing from.
The Spaghetti Incident is a brave piece of work. Any other artist would have buried this alongside themselves and retreated from public view. Cher removed Stars from seeing a vinyl print, and Scott Walker rallied against Scott 4 at the time of its release. Both are better than The Spaghetti Incident, a ruinous piece of work, not because of anything uniquely bad, but because it fails to live up to the low standards set by Guns n’ Roses. What the band did for the hair rock of the times is fine enough, though not exactly essential listening. A few songs here and a nasty cover of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door are all you need to learn all you can about the band. A covers collection is not just a foul idea, but these are songs which are neither more interesting or less exciting with Rose and the band. They drift rather lazily through a project which was intended as an extended play, not a long play. This, from a time when the difference mattered, is a death sentence for Guns n’ Roses.
Rose has zero understanding of which songs will adapt to another genre. Where Johnny Cash would bring out a poetic, heartfelt beauty in Hurt and The Mercy Seat, taking a punk song and making it sound scared of instrumental change is bizarre. Opener Since I Don’t Have You is a limited piece of heartthrob rot which has all the hallmarks of Guns n’ Roses’ pitiful style. An embarrassing failure to capture the spirit of punk pieces like Raw Power and Hair of the Dog is a dreary showcase of just how limited the group are when it comes to innovating. They can hold a guitar riff and a long note, or used to. Those basics are, unsurprisingly, not up to the task of detailing the nuance or nastiness of any of these songs. Placid, teenage rock band levels of energy come through on New Rose, while Human Being is enjoyable if you ignore Rose’s singing, Slash’s playing, and leave white noise playing in another tab.
Down in the Farm is wedged between the two, and even on repeat listens, it would be tricky to pick out a note of worth. Granted, the band are well past the point of trying in the studio, but even the most compact legacy act needs, at some point, fresh material. Even their biggest hits are tiresome rock rot. The Spaghetti Incident is a telling read on Guns n’ Roses as a band tinged by the sexism and rock volume of the times. They never evolved from that, nor did a chunk of their fans. They do not need to, and therefore do not. Ain’t It Fun sounds like one of their originals. It, too, is just noise. Guns n’ Roses are a miserable listen at the best of times, but The Spaghetti Incident is a cold mess. An indifferent band ripping apart bands they claim as influences, and yet the best cover of them all is of Manson’s Look at Your Game, Girl. Not the best of looks, but then the band’s image has always been muddied by repugnant outlooks and viciously dull music.
