Guns 'N' Roses. SECC Glasgow. 21/7/06

Glasgow has waited a long time to see Guns 'N' Roses. No incarnation of the band has ever seen fit to stumble North of the border so there was a genuine air of excitement and nervous expectation at the SECC. Word was getting round of the drama at Newcastle and it seemed a fair few expected Axl not to turn up at all. And as 9pm came and went the nervousness and anticipation increased. We had been forewarned of course. The venue was liberally plastered with signs that the gig could, and indeed would run late. And anyone who reads this site knows that Axl comes to the stage whenever he feels like it. So as time ticked by and yet another AC/DC song came through the sound system there were mutterings, there were boos and more than one shout for Axl to 'get a fucking move on'. However, just after ten, the lights went down... and all fucking hell broke loose.

As the opening notes of Welcome To The Jungle rang out, and the siren-like wail we had waited so long to hear finally rang out, well... Glasgow went mental. The energy that had been building during the long, long, long wait for Axl and co. exploded as GNR fans old and new (from grey-haired guys in studded leather jackets to 13 year-olds in Nirvana hoodies) were jumping, stomping, clapping and singinG along to every word. Axl fuckin' Rose was onstage and it seemed Glasgow was going to give it everything from the get go, 'cos who knew how long we would actually get? Had we known the actual answer was two and a half hours perhaps it woud have been wise to conserve some energy but as the band segued into a pounding It's So Easy and followed it with a pyro-aided Live & Let Die such logical thought went right out the window. At our first breather a good-humoured Axl was quick to remind us of his Scottish roots - even treating us to a few lines of his god-awful Scottish accent! We then got our first taste of Chinese Democracy when the band launched into (a fairly well received) Better. Scattered pockets who clearly had access to newGNR.com were singing every word but the majority of the crowd got into it when that almighty riff got going.

All was proceeding swimmingly until just after eleven when, in what I can only describe as a gutless, pussy-ass joke of a maneuver, a fair sized number of people started to leave to catch their last bus and/or train! WTF!!?? This is supposed to be Rock 'N' Roll people! What's the likelihood of you ever getting the chance to see Axl Rose again? Surely that's enough of a reson to miss the bus and walk home? It was for me. Those who remained were in it for the long haul, but that didn't stop a few getting restless during one of the many, many jams and solo spots that littered the set. The Richards Fortus portion was well received, as was the Don't Cry invitation for a singalong, but honestly there was quite a but of unneccesary padding during the middle part of the show. It was during one such moment that crowd restlessness prompted Axl to deliver the great 'go catch a bus fuckhead' line.

Things got back on track with a sparkling version of Novermber Rain, countless MTV and VH1 replays having ensured mass participation during every note, and it was interesting to see the three guitarists sharing the solo's between them. Then came the moment we had all been waiting for. As soon as Axl said the words 'I would like to introduce' the crowd was already going ballistic. Ladies and gentlemen... Izzy fuckin' Stradlin!! And there he was. The man who wrote the tunes, the heart and soul of the original line-up, looking dapper and sharing a mic with Axl on Think About You, Nightrain and an unexpected and rapturously received I Used To Love Her. Now I love the new guys, especially the super cool Richard Fortus, but this was the highlight of the show for me as Izzy has always been a hero of mine.

There was still time for a great rendition of Madagascar, during which the crowd took a welcome breather and enjoyed the video that accompanies the song. This appeared to to be the same one that they used at the Leeds festival in 2002 but as that day I was a mile away from the screen I can't be sure. After that it was time to take a deep breath and surrender what little energy we had left to Axl and the gang for the traditional Paradise City big finish.

Did it live up to expectations? It did for the group I was with. The band sounded great, Axl's voice was unbelievable throughout and with two and a half hours we certainly got our money's worth. Minor quibbles aside - no Rocket Queen, a bit too much stalling for time and a paucity of Illusion-era material - for Glasgow it was certainly worth the wait. Long live Axl and long live Guns 'N' Fuckin' Roses.

BB DVD Review: Night Watch

Crazy gibberish. Russian style.






If Night Watch were a homeless person, it would be the scary kind that stalks around threateningly, carrying a 'The End Is Nigh' sign and a thousand yard stare. However the important to thing to remember about this particular brand of bum is that they still root around in the bins the same as the rest. Now that's a very confused metaphor but I defy you to come with anything more sensible after two hours of 200% proof former-Soviet lunacy. Watching this movie was like having a really loud annoying guy telling you that this drink he's about to buy you is the best thing you've ever tasted then, two hours and one headache later, he fucks off without buying you it. Ooh, that's another awful metaphor. I think this movie has warped my fragile little mind.

There are times when a film-maker should be praised for his ambition. It's admirable when people reach for the stars or their reach exceeds their grasp or there's another cliche involving reaching. There is, after all, no shame in glorious failure. However if the balance runs something like 95 percent ambition to 5 percent actual content then we have a problem. Night Watch is a movie that promises much. There's lots of myth-building guff about the forces of light and the forces of dark and the eternal war and all that malarkey but we don't see any of it. There's a scuffle in a toilet, a bit of shouting on a roof and the smallest battle on the smallest bridge in movie history. So little happens it beggars belief. By all accounts there is a sequel in the works (a trilogy even) as this one made a fair bit of money in its native Russia, so there's a chance that subsequent entries may have the scale to match the scope. This one certainly doesn't. Lesson of the day kids, don't make a huge scale Sci-Fi/Fantasy epic if you have a Woody Allen budget.

BB DVD Review: The Hill Have Eyes

An all American family on a road trip take a wrong turn in more ways than one in a 21st Century remake of the Wes Craven cult classic. There's gold in them their hills. Well not gold exactly, more like horrible bloody death but that doesn't scan quite as well... I'm not sure this is really deserving of italics.



I'n not very keen on the idea of visiting America. For all my obsession with the myriad outpourings of Americana the high proportion of zealots, maniacs and downright morons that seem to populate the place make it downright unappealing. If I ever do visit, however, you can be damn skippy I will be staying exclusively in high-population urban areas. Sure I may be mugged, car-jacked or gunned down in a drive-by but that seems to be a laugh-riot compared to what awaits in the wide open spaces - here there be toothless redneck monsters.

For much like the original, Deliverance and their countless other 'you aint from around here boy' cousins, The Hill Have Eyes confirms the very darkest fear of millions of concrete-cosseted urbanites - if there isn't a McDonalds with 10 miles prepare to be raped and/or mutilated. I would rather prance through Compton in a Klan outfit that ever go near a Maw and Paw style gas station in the middle of nowhere. At least with a pistol-packin' homey I have some basis for conversation (You like rap music? I like rap music...). In short, the toothless moonshine soaked rapist button is an easy one to push, so the question becomes how well does Switchblade Romance helmer Alexandre Aja push it?

The answer... fairly well. While not a rip-snorting success, the movie has enough new tricks and sadistic glee to avoid pointless remake status (The Fog and The Omen I spit in your general direction) and collapse in a huffing heap in the just-about-justified category. Most praiseworthy is its out and out commitment to an 18 certificate. This is fucking horror we're talking about here people! Far too many Hollywood produced frighteners pussy out and go for 15 (or god forbid) 12a ratings to try and get a few extra adolescent bums in seats to the detriment of both the film (horror without gore is like a hooker without herpes) and the audience (you ever tried to watch a movie in the company of some 15 year olds?). Not so this one. As with his debut effort Aja lays it on thick and clotted, just the way a geek with unresolved violent tendencies likes it. Our protagonists go through hell and a half at the hands of these hillbilly fucks and the director understands that come payback time they as characters, and we as an audience, need sweet bloody revenge. One could take the high ground and argue that it's cathartic for people to have an outlet for the fear and anger that modern society creates in us but that's horseshit. I need no reason to enjoy seeing someone getting a pickaxe in the eye other than it's inherently fuckin' cool. So cool in fact that we get to see it twice - now that's giving the people what they want.

However the claret cannot paint over all the cracks. There is no third-act disaster to match the aforementioned Switchbalde Romance (surely the most ludicrous twist in the history of film) but there are times when the film struggles. First-off, it's damn hard to create tension in the wide open spaces of the desert. The jumps and scares that this kind of horror relies on needs enclosed spaces, corners and shadows which are kind of hard to replicate when you can see for miles around. It's a problem the creators try to surmount with the addition (not in the original) of a bombed-out 1950's style town but the tension created here just serves to show how little there is in the rest of the movie. More of a problem, at least for someone who has seen as many horror movies as me, is the awesome, unwavering stupidity that the lead characters exhibit for the majority of their screen time. Now this is a problem in modern horror in general, not just here, and it's really starting to get on my tits. There's has to be a way to create dangerous situations that does not involve people blindly wandering about like headless fowl with a deathwish. Put the average person in a dangerous situation and they become more wary, more careful. They do not, repeat, do not wander into darkened pishin' corners wondering where that blood-curdling scream came from. It's an insult to our intelligence and it's lazy writing.

Other things I liked...

The design of the mutants was cool, especially the wheelchair bound tumour with a brain and the bowler-hatted droog-a-like. Though nothing any Hollywood make-up artist can concoct can match the sheer god-hewn horror of original mutant Michael Berryman's face.

The close-up on a broken set of glasses that may or may not be a homage to Peckinpah's Straw Dogs. The films do, after all, share a similar normal-folk-pushed-to-extremes theme.

Bloodthirsty Frenchies. Who knew? Must be all that half-cooked horseflesh.