Red-Haired Crazymen

I posted a most excellent piece on Karla's birthday about my wife's recent fascination with Axl Rose two days ago. However, the post has yet to materialize via YouTube, so I'll do my best to reconstruct my original musings in all their rock n' roll glory.

Last Wednesday, I took Karla to see Guns N' Roses (aka Axl with six other dudes) at the Warfield Theater in SF. I wouldn't classify this as dragging her to the show, although it was not an event she was very excited about, counting down the days to, etc. On a scale of zero to Christmas, I'd give it a five.

There's a long tortured history between us and Axl. Back in 2002, we had tickets to TWO GNR shows around New Year's Eve when Axl decided to cancel the tour (and screw us on Ticketmaster fees). Of course, this year's campaign to convince Axl to perform at our wedding celebration fell flat when Axl sold out for the money by choosing to perform at London's Wembley Stadium rather than fly back to California for our intimate gathering.

We arrived at 8 to swap out balcony tickets with people who had floor seats. (Thank you Craigslist!) Although the tickets stated that doors would open at 8, the crew was obviously still loading equipment into the theater, so we went to a tiny hole-in-the-wall dive across the street and drank for the next two-and-a-half hours.

Properly lubricated, we eased into the show in time to see Sebastian Bach sing the one song of his that I know: I Remember You. (OK, I remember 18 to Life also, but we missed it.) After some drinks in the lobby and a silly international phone call to Dan Richter in Argentina (thank you Vonage!), we made it back in for Welcome to the Jungle...

Axl completely tore the roof off. It was far and away the best concert I've been to since Shaggy played Georgetown, Guyana in 2001, and probably the best rock concert I've been to since the 1999 KROQ Weenie Roast. They just don't make ass-kicking music these days (just like they don't make ass-kicking movies these days), and I found that even at my advanced age I still have the ability to be the scariest guy in the pit. The Gunners played almost all of Appetite for Destruction and most of their other hits too, including personal faves Patience, Used to Love Her, My Michelle and You Could Be Mine. They DIDN'T play my favorite GNR song, Get in the Ring, but we did start the chant for it at least eight times, and I'm pretty much the only person who likes that one.

For a 44-year-old, Axl can still move and scream and do the snake dance and pump the mic stand and do that cool knee-kick thing like a pro. He's a crazy redhead like me. Unsurprisingly, the next day Karla was completely abuzz about the experience, calling it the "best concert of her life" and a "life experience." I've caught her singing GNR around the apartment lately; for her birthday, her coworkers pasted pictures of Axl all over her office.

What's not to like about crazy redheads?

Warfield video: watch Axl regulate on a jerky fan during Sweet Child O Mine here. It's pretty fantastic.