C'mon, Dave, Throw Us a Bone

When Diamond Dave & Co. rock Tampa tonight, they will dutifully dish out all the Van Halen hits: Panama, Unchained, And the Cradle Will Rock...and there's certainly nothing wrong with that. Heck, fans would riot if they didn't hear about "Junior's grades." (Here's a link to the probable setlist.)

But I've been waiting to see these dudes play for 25 years. And I've been spinning their albums for even longer. So here's a dream playlist of deep, delicious forgotten cuts that, if dusted off after all these years, would send fans into a frenzy. (If you don't know 'em, get your tuchus to iTunes. Hear About It Later is their best song ever, man!)

1. Hear About It Later (from 1981's Fair Warning): This sucker was meant for midnight. (LISTEN)
2. Take Your Whiskey Home (from 1980's Women and Children First): Behind the fastest-fingers showboating, Eddie is a gutbucket bluesman.
3. Bottoms Up! (from 1979's Van Halen II): Rowdy rock goodness served straight up.
4. Drop Dead Legs (from 1984's 1984): Randy and irresistible, much like DLR himself. (WATCH)
5. Me Wise Magic (from 1996's Best Of: Volume I): Silly voodoo from their aborted '96 reunion.
6. Top Jimmy (from 1984): The most underrated cut on their best album? Discuss.
7. Feel Your Love Tonight (from 1978's Van Halen): With that hook, this should have been a smash.
8. Where Have All the Good Times Gone! (from 1982's Diver Down): Their second-best Kinks cover.
9. Fools (from Women and Children First): Such tough boys, such sweet harmonies.
10. Sinner's Swing! (from Fair Warning): Might as well be the VH anthem.

Can't Get THIS Out of My Head

I had a very Slashy year. Not in a Jame Gumm way, mind you. But a Saul Hudson way. Not only did I get to interview the former Guns N' Roses guitar god, but I dressed up like Slash for Halloween.

Lately, I've been mainlining Slash's tremendous solo on this cover of ELO's Can't Get It Out of My Head. Here's the song and an unintentionally humorous (and pretty lame) Velvet Revolver slideshow. The solo kicks in at the 2:11 mark. It's a monster (even if Scott Weiland's vocal is a bit cloying). Wait for it...wait for it...

Vancouver Man Boards Crazy Train

THIS JUST IN! On Christmas Eve, a Vancouver, Wash., man claiming to be Ozzy Osbourne was arrested after barging into a convenience store and waving a gun around. You can see the video HERE.

To the dude's credit, he kinda looks like Ozzy. Plus he lives in Vancouver, Wash. I wouldn't mind defending this guy in court. After a lonely day of drinking, with no one to spend a cold Christmas with, it's understandable that this lunatic would look in the mirror and see the Blizzard of Ozz. It was his only defense.

He should sue God for $1.3 million. While he's at it, he should also slap a suit on the folks at MD 20/20 just for good measure.

A friend once described me as a morphing of Tom Hanks and John Candy. I didn't mind that. Hell, I love Splash. That said, Volunteers sucks.

Because this blog is wandering aimlessly, let's finish with the FIVE BEST OZZY SOLO TUNES...
5. Over the Mountain
4. I Don't Know
3. Bark at the Moon
2. Crazy Train
1. Flying High Again

PODCAST TIME! Kevin DuBrow and Quiet Riot

When Quiet Riot singer Kevin DuBrow was found dead in his Las Vegas home this week, the Stuck in the '80s podcast team cued up the Metal Health and sped off to the recording studio to pay our respects. Sure, there were a couple of meatball subs tucked between the mourning and the show. But rest assured, not even a hoagie-induced food coma could stop Steve Spears and I from robustly celebrating the life and legend of DuBrow and Quiet Riot, the first metal band to ever top the Billboard charts.

As always, you'll find the podcast link on the right side of this page. You can listen on your computer or go to iTunes and download it to your iPod. My advice is to listen to the show at least six or seven times, just so you can catch every Victorian nuance and delicate reference to our man boobs.

A Very Angus Christmas

Looking for a reason to throw a Christmas shindig? But can't figure out how to entertain both Grandma with the blue hair and Cousin Greg with the nipple clamps and cellblock 'tude? Have I got a solution for you...

Courtesy of Santa Claws and the Naughty but Nice Orchestra, here's the new and devilishly inspired Hell’s Bells of Christmas: The Holiday Tribute to AC/DC (on the Christmas Rock label).

A Lawrence Welkian ensemble better suited for elevator output puts jingle-jangle spin on such wicked hits as Back in Black, Thunderstruck and that tender yuletide fave, Whole Lotta Rosie. (And yes, they provide a Mistress for Christmas.) Chimes, flutes, xylophones and bells, bells, bells turn the wild 'n' whiskey-eyed Aussie icons into cheeky family fare.

Fun for a few laughs...and a few shots of eggnog. CLICK HERE to sample some clips. (There's also a Green Day version if that's more your bag.)

I'm a close personal friend of Brian Johnson, and I bet the Sarasota resident gets a kick out of this.

I Call 'Em the Scorps

IT'S PODCAST TIME, BOYS AND GIRLS! This one is a Steve Spears spectacular, as my girthy Stuck in the '80s compadre interviews Klaus Meine, lead singer of towering Teutonic talents the Scorpions. I show up every now and then and provide even less content than usual. In fact, I recall being a bit of a wanker. Oh well. As usual, you can find the podcast link on the right side of this page. You don't need an iPod to hear it; you can simply fire it up on the old Tandy 2000. HOWEVER, I can think of nothing more romantic than strapping on your headphones and taking a brisk Thanksgiving walk with me in your ear. I'm swell company, and I'll totally let you get to second base. Oh, who am I kidding? Slide on home, slugger.

Heavy Metal Madness (with crayons)

Here's a rainy-day exercise courtesy of the new Heavy Metal Fun Time Activity Book. The puckish nod to both Crayola memories and head-banging debauchery is 48 pages of cheeky games, including "Color Metallica (1983)," "The Monsters of Rock Crossword" and "Color Metallica (1988)." 

My personal favorite is "How Many Words Can You Make Out of Yngwie Malmsteen?" (Hmm, "stingy," "misty"...)

Good times, good times.

It's the perfect stocking stuffer for your 37-year-old buddy who still has a velcro Ozzy wallet.

Enjoy!

Why Is My Job Awesome?

Because this was waiting for me on my desk this morning. Slash's entry into the literary world officially comes out Oct. 30. But I'm contemplating quitting my job today just so I can read it.

In related news, Slash is gonna be my high-concept Halloween costume. I have the hat, the hair, the smokes, the shades. I ordered the classic Guns N' Roses black "crucifix" tee from a cute punk girl at Hot Topic. Now I just need a nose ring, bracelets and any semblance of Slashian cool. I'll settle for the nose ring. 

The Slash Story: Parental Guidance Suggested

Someday I'll transcribe the first few minutes of my interview, in which my fanboy slobbering basically drowns out any wisdom Slash tries to impart. Lordy, I'm such a dork. Anyway, enjoy the story...

Behind the hair and the shades and the second-most famous top hat in U.S. history, behind the rattlesnake riffs linking the Delta blues and the Sunset Strip, Slash is not as cool as you think.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. The famously shaggy guitar god, whose licks are ingrained in the DNA of any rock fan worth his leathers, is certainly cooler than you or me.

He’s cooler than anyone in West Hollywood, the hair-metal Gomorrah that gave rise to his legend and heroin addiction. He’s cooler than Scott Weiland, the lead singer of Slash’s current supergroup, Velvet Revolver, which plays Ford Amphitheatre in Tampa on Saturday.

And he’s decidedly cooler than That Other Lead Singer from Slash’s Other Band, a famously brewing brouhaha we’ll get to in just a bit.

And yet, there are moments in the life of Saul Hudson, born in the United Kingdom 42 years ago to an English father and an African-American mother, when the coolest dude in rock is, lo and behold, a flat-out wreck. For all his swagger, Slash, calling from a tour stop in Dallas, is actually “painfully shy.” That’s the real reason why his long black hair is always in his face, why his glasses are always on, why that ever-present black topper has reached mystical status.

"Without it, I'd feel really naked,” he says. “It’s something that I hide behind. I couldn’t look at the audience without it."

Slash Speaks!

Just had a great interview with Slash, who comes to Tampa Oct. 6 with Velvet Revolver. A nice guy and a helluva quote. Nothing was off limits, no warnings from his PR people. The 42-year-old guitar god talked for about 30 minutes, covering everything from:

His addictions: "I'm a real loner. I'm not a social partier. I'm more like the closeted f---ing junkie." These days he says he's "reasonably clean."

His mystical top hat: "It's something I hide behind. Without it, I feel really naked."

His upcoming work on Guitar Hero 3: "I was obsessed with playing Guitar Hero 2. As a guitar player, it's actually harder to play than if you're not a player. I could do medium, but on expert, I can't pull the chords off!"

He even has his own autobiography hitting stores in November: Slash: It Seems Excessive But That Doesn't Mean It Didn't Happen.

And, of course, he talked about Axl and Guns N' Roses: "I'm so sick of it. It just doesn't go away....I haven't been keeping abreast of all of the [Guns N' Roses news]. I'm not really interested. It's been a long time since I left.... Besides the recorded music, the only thing that ties [Axl and I] together is everybody's fantasy about us getting back together."

About a reunion tour, Slash says: "The figures that have been thrown at us have been astronomical."

But alas, he says, it ain't gonna happen.

[Photo: Getty Images.]

Morally Repugnant...and Awesome!

Beneath the blizzards of cocaine, bindles of smack, mountains of pills and gallons of Jack Daniel’s, there’s a vital lesson lurking in The Heroin Diaries, the new tell-all by Motley Crue bassist and world-class dumbass Nikki Sixx. And that lesson is this:

You can totally bag more strippers when you’re sober.

What? You were expecting Hallmarkian sentiment? This is the Crue we’re talking about, the most debauched troupe of dirtballs to be birthed in the sin-stained gutters of West Hollywood. This is a multiplatinum metal band that, during its ’80s heyday, entertained itself in hotels by greeting room service in the nude (and that's when they were being charming).

Strangely enough, though, the boys make for riveting storytellers. In 2001, Sixx, plus Motley bandmates Vince Neil, Mick Mars and Tommy Lee, delivered best-selling oral history The Dirt, the first 250 pages of which are so morally bankrupt...I can’t recommend the book enough. Seriously, it's awesomely shocking, and it makes Led Zeppelin’s infamous bio Hammer of the Gods read like The Book of Virtues.

Equally abhorrent and highly entertaining, sorta-sequel The Heroin Diaries also includes ribald interviews with Neil, Mars and Lee. But this one’s primarily about Sixx, who kept a day-to-day journal in 1987 when Motley Crue was the biggest band in the world — and the band’s leader and songwriter was spiraling down a rabbit hole of heroin and cocaine addiction.

If The Dirt was about the party, The Heroin Diaries is about the morning-after wreckage. It’s bleak, violent, mind-blowingly profane. By embracing both candor and crassness — and dishing on everyone from Jon Bon Jovi to Slash to Heather Locklear — Sixx spins a gross, gripping yarn, the rare celeb to detail every drop of blood, every trashed hotel room, every naked groupie crawling through his window.

Say what you want about Sixx — he’s been pronounced dead twice — but in this day and age of milquetoast rock stars, it’s refreshing to be repulsed by the old-school guys. Using old journal entries and modern-day commentary, he paints scene after pathetic scene of his drug use, impotence and increasing paranoia: "There is something about spending Christmas alone, naked, sitting by the Christmas tree gripping a shotgun, that lets you know your life is spinning dangerously outta control."

Questions for Slash?

Next week, my hirsute dreams come true.

In anticipation of Velvet Revolver's Oct. 6 stop in Tampa, I'll be interviewing Saul "Slash" Hudson, if not one of the most influential guitarists of all time, then definitely the hairiest.

But here's the deal: I'll probably get 20 minutes at best. So where do you start? Maybe lead with a few VR queries and then go for the G N' R gold? And you have to devote at least 6 minutes to his top hat, right? Gonna have to plan this sucker just right.

WHO HAS A QUESTION FOR SLASH?

10 Best Metal Albums From the '80s

2007 marks the 20th anniversary of Appetite for Destruction. (Let's allow that to sink in for a second....) The Gunners classic holds up well, especially the first 39 seconds of Welcome to the Jungle, which is nothing less than the sound of five men ushering in the end of the world. It's the motherbleepin' apocalypse, kiddies -- let's party.

I play Appetite about five or six times a year, and without fail, I'll air guitar to Slash's licks and wail along to Axl's operatic hellscrapes, reaching as high and throat-bleeding as I possibly can. (The Forever Fiancee LOVES my Axl impression.)

Anyway, because there's great comfort in the '80s -- and especially Sunset Strip-born '80s metal -- here's my TOP 10 METAL ALBUMS OF THE '80s.

This is a potential sh--storm (for instance, I'm leaving off Bon Jovi; I don't think of AC/DC or Van Halen as metal; and I never really liked Metallica), but here goes anyway.

By the way, Steve Spears and I will be doing an upcoming Stuck in the '80s show on the best metal albums, so be sure to give your picks, too.

10. Stay Hungry -- Twisted Sister
9. G N' R Lies -- Guns N' Roses
8. Shout at the Devil -- Motley Crue
7. Night Songs -- Cinderella
6. Out of the Cellar -- RATT
5. Skid Row -- Skid Row
4. Dr. Feelgood -- Motley Crue
3. Blizzard of Ozz -- Ozzy Osbourne
2. Screaming for Vengeance -- Judas Priest
1. Appetite for Destruction -- Guns N' Roses 

How Def Leppard Ruined My Childhood

"Lady luck never smiles / So lend your love to me awhile..."

Def Leppard's Foolin' sure sounded like a ballad at first, the perfect time for me to screw up my seventh-grade courage and ask Julie Rothera, the girl of my dreams, to dance. Summer was almost here, and I'd blown chance after chance to talk to her all year long. As the acoustic guitars plucked, I knee-knocked my way across the junior-high auditorium and, heart racing, mumbled out an invite. Red-haired Julie took my hand — success! — and we commenced that prepubescent slow shuffle dance.

But then, as Julie and I started to relax, as I envisioned a summer in Westford, Mass., frolicking with this lovely girl, the Brit boys in Def Leppard, kings of rock thanks to 1983 smash Pyromania, started to get louder, faster. Oh no. OH NO. I was sweating at this point, realizing (as the drums and guitars kicked in) that Foolin’ wasn’t a ballad at all:

"IS ANYBODY OUT THERE! ANYBODY THERE! DOES ANYBODY WONDER! ANYBODY CARE!"

With the song pounding in my head, I held on for as long as I could, but Julie wanted to bolt. And who could blame her? The dance floor was empty, her friends were snickering and I was wearing corduroy pants. So she broke the hold, gave me a sad smile and headed back to her pals. I just stood there, devastated, correct in my assumption that I’d never dance with her again. What was I thinking? I should have waited around for Air Supply or Lionel Richie. But no, I had to get fancy and pick Foolin’. And I’ve had to live with it for 24 years. So thanks for ruining my childhood Def Leppard. Thanks so much.

Def Leppard, with Styx and Foreigner, performs Friday, Aug. 24 at 7 p.m., Ford Amphitheatre, Tampa. $25-$75. (813) 740-2446.

Van Halen Reunites...but Skips Florida

Are you ready to run with the devil? Or, at the very least, how about a brisk jog?

Those aging rapscallions in Van Halen — guitarist Eddie Van Halen, drummer Alex Van Halen, vainglorious frontman David Lee Roth plus Eddie’s 16-year-old son, Wolfgang, on bass — announced a 25-date North American reunion tour today.

This will be Eddie and Dave's first tour together in more than 20 years. They had previously hated each other's guts.

Unfortunately for eager Floridians, though, we’ll have to travel to hear such classic-rock staples as Panama, Hot for Teacher or Runnin’ With the Devil. No Sunshine State stops are on the schedule at this time, but that could very well change in the next few weeks.

The band, so potent in the ’70s and ’80s, announced the news at a 15-minute press conference Monday at the Four Seasons Hotel in Los Angeles. With the exception of the pubescent Wolfgang, all of the band members are firmly in their 50s. But in typical Roth fashion, he said he’s more than confident in VH’s ability to fight Father Time.

"We think we got it right this time," said Roth, according to a report by Reuters. "You come and judge the performance harshly, please. I beg you, come on down and see."

Beefy bassist Michael Anthony is the only holdout from the original lineup, perhaps because he’s good friends with singer Sammy Hagar, who alienated many a VH fan by replacing Roth in 1985. Hagar and Eddie Van Halen had feuded the last few years, leading to the reconciliation with Roth.

No word yet from Wolfgang’s mother Valerie Bertinelli, who is somehow letting her underage son tour the country with one of the most notoriously naughty rock bands of all time. Wow, some kids have all the luck.

Right now, the closest stops to Tampa Bay include the tour opener in Charlotte, N.C. on Sept. 27 and in Greensboro, N.C. on the 29th. But I have a feeling more dates will be added if this trainwreck manages to stay on the rails. If they add a local stop — and there’s a very good chance they will — it will probably happen in mid-November or late December. The bands itinerary has some available dates at those times, plus Florida is a major market for classic rock.

FAIR WARNING: I saw Roth perform solo a few years ago, and it was the concertgoing equivalent of having your gums scraped. He was lackadaisical, bored; he sounded lousy, barely bothering to finish singing the hits. When he did his famous flying-V split off the drum riser, he looked like Wilford Brimley playing hopscotch.

But with guitar whiz Eddie erupting next to him — an Eddie fresh from rehab, no less — maybe Diamond Dave will find some of that ol’ magic. He certainly seems to think so.

"Usually when a band comes back like us it’s rockers with walkers and this is everything but," said Roth. "Meet us in the future, not the past."

Nikki Sixx's "The Heroin Diaries"

The greatest rock 'n' roll tell-all? That's easy. Motley Crue's The Dirt, especially the first 250 pages. The band's collective disregard for human life and adventures in drug-hoovering is shocking, atrocious, criminal. But unlike 99-percent of showbiz tell-alls, the boys are brutally honest in their excess. Tommy is the horny monkey boy, Vince is the cold-blooded ladykiller, Mick is a homunculitic outcast -- but the surprise is the smarts and storytelling verve of bassist Nikki Sixx, who reveals that he actually DIED from a heroin overdose, but managed to fight the white light and return.

Anyway, this Sept. 18, Sixx will publish a sorta-sequel to The Dirt called The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star. There's also an accompanying soundtrack. They've sent me the disc and parts of the book. Shocking, atrocious, criminal. Here we go again.

If you want to read a disturbing excerpt of the new book -- in which he does REALLY BAD THINGS with former Prince flame Vanity -- click on the link just below.

Cinder Road Rulz

I saw these dudes from Timonium, Md., open up for Chris Daughtry a few months ago — and immediately, the suburban-dirtball gene in my DNA kicked into overdrive. Cinder Road, which plays St. Pete on Saturday, can’t be much older than my rippiest pair of Levis, but they play like ’80s hair-metal gods, all hip-thrusts and lascivious licks and plaintive howls. It's the headbanger equivalent of comfort food.

Lead singer Mike Ruocco, the dude in the middle, looks a little like Christina Ricci, which totally confuses me sexually. But I can overlook that (or at least ignore it until I need therapy) and tap into their Ratt 'n' Roll aesthetic. You do know how to Ratt 'n' Roll, right?

I'm also convinced Cinder Road could kick the sh-- out of Nickelback in a streetfight. Not that they play the same music. Nickelback blows -- Cinder Road rocks. But Nickelback seems to be the metal of the moment, which is sad. Cinder Road is tried-and-true glam-metal, which obviously means that Timonium, Md., is the new Sunset Strip, which I suspected all along.

To hear music clips, you can go here.

Cinder Road, with Candlebox, plays Saturday, July 21 at 8 p.m. Jannus Landing, 16 Second St. N, St. Petersburg. $19.50 advance, $23 day of show. (727) 896-2276.

Fits Like a Velvet Glove

Ever notice how all of Slash's guitar solos sound like national anthems for Eastern Bloc countries? Whenever Slither plays, I imagine someone in Albania saluting and weeping.

So...I've listened to the new Velvet Revolver album a few times now, cranking it up in the MAZD (they left the "A" off for savings). And although I like Libertad, I'm not sure I could name one song title. (American Man? Yeah, that sounds about right. Oh, and they do a pretty good cover of ELO's Can't Get It Out of My Head.) The album can only be processed in one large jumble, like a late-'80s glam-metal festival, or a plateful of Little Debbie snacks. Scott Weiland, typically a cloying artiste, sounds low in the mix, which is fine with me. Neither he nor his awful lyrics deserve much credit. The best part of Libertad is Slash, who rips up the album, a restless pugilist looking for a scrum. The way his solos explode is a thing of ugly beauty. He's worth the price of admission alone. If you're a suburban dirtball, or an old Gunners fan searching for a comfy place to rest, you'll dig the new VR.

Dump Weiland: Guy on Velvet Revolver

Loyal correspondent Guy caught the Velvet Revolver show in D.C. last week. Here's his sweaty report...

Reports of the demise of rock music may be premature, if judged by the generally incendiary performance of Velvet Revolver at a sold-out 9:30 Club in Washington, DC last Tuesday night.

Unlike their last outing, in support of 2004 debut Contraband, the supergroup, anchored by former members of Stone Temple Pilots and Guns N’ Roses, chose to look forward rather than back, mixing songs from the band's first release (show-closer Slither, ballad Fall to Pieces) with previews from their new CD (Libertad, out July 3).

Unfortunately for Velvet Revolver, little about the new tracks, which included first single She Builds Quick Machines, was distinctive, with only The Last Fight, a song about a broken relationship, particularly memorable.

Thankfully, the band did not follow through with its threat to avoid playing any songs from its predecessors, as both the Stone Temple Pilot’s Vasoline and Used to Love Her from Guns N’ Roses were extremely well-received.

The raptuous reception to those songs, plus well-chosen covers Wish You Were Here and Psycho Killer, reinforced the fact that the band’s primary liability remains Weiland, whose lack of charisma and limited skills as a lyricist fail to build upon the rhythmic foundation laid by Slash, bassist Duff McKagan and drummer Matt Sorum.

Weiland’s sartorial style (captain’s hat, aviator shades, scarf) and Lead Singer fumblings (serpentine dance moves, singing into a bullhorn) only served as a sad reminder of what might have been had band members completely skipped over the grunge era when selecting a lead singer (see Bach, Sebastian).

While solid performances of Contraband tracks served as a reminder of Velvet Revolver’s potential, Weiland’s limitations, along with the songs that generated the loudest response, suggested an intriguing future direction for the group: cover band.

...And the Hall of Fame Will Rock

Van Halen will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on March 12. Other 2007 inductees include R.E.M., Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five, Patti Smith and the Ronettes. Good, eclectic group this year and the awards show at New York's Waldorf Astoria should be juicy.

Well, if David Lee Roth shows up, that is. Which he probably won't. And don't go expecting Sammy Hagar or Michael Anthony. Word is, they despise Eddie.

My bet is that Eddie and maybe bro Alex show up at the ceremony. Then maybe Eddie + Alex (and Eddie's kid, Wolfie, who now plays bass for the band) will rip out a 13-minute Eruption before staggering back to the bar. I'm not expecting them to jam with any of the other inductees. That lil' homunculus Michael Stipe probably hates VH, and Patti Smith is a bore.

But just for fun, let's say DLR does show up: WHAT VAN HALEN SONG SHOULD THE BOYS PLAY? Runnin' With the Devil, maybe? Jump, perhaps?

Also, WHO SHOULD INDUCT THEM? How about Tommy Lee?

A Twisted Christmas? Hell Yeah!

The Christmas CD barrage is officially underway. Most new entries are as appealing as a slushball to the groin, but some are keepers, including our first entry."Is that a Frosty pin on your uniform?!"

Twisted Sister, A Twisted Christmas (Razor & Tie) When these ’80s headbangers throw a holiday bash, they don’t just light the tree — they light it on fire. Led by Revlon-painted nightmare Dee Snider, the Twisted quintet turns yuletide tunes (White Christmas, Silver Bells) into guitar-shredded screamers. Oh Come All Ye Faithful is hilariously mashed into the band’s classic anthem We’re Not Gonna Take It. On the raucous I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, St. Nick has more than smooching on his mind. And you’ve got to love the shopping list on Heavy Metal Christmas (The Twelve Days of Christmas): a tattoo of Ozzy, two pairs of spandex pants, four quarts of Jack, etc. There’s a thin line between clever and stupid, but after a few spiked nogs, A Twisted Christmas puts a rockin’, ribald spin on the Santa season. GRADE: B

Guns N' Bleepin' Roses

TAMPA — If I were Axl Rose (and I thank the lord every day that I'm not), I would do something truly rock-star grotesque on the current Guns N' Roses tour.

Like cancel upcoming Canadian shows due to "sanitary reasons." Or insult Johnny Cash.
Or brain someone with a microphone stand.

'Cause at a time when rock 'n' roll is a safe, solemn universe desperate for a dangerous star, one of the most volatile frontmen in history now seems so...safe, solemn.

Xanaxed.

Don't get me wrong: Rose, who brought his makeshift rock band to the St. Pete Times Forum Wednesday, can still be a pain in the tuchus. He disapproved media and photographer credentials at the last minute. His show started at midnight and didn't end until 2, sending many of the 10,522 fans home early. And the attendance was lower than it should have been, mainly because Axl is a classic no-show.

Most glaring of all, I still blame the 44-year-old nutter for breaking up the original lineup: guitar legend Slash, charismatic bassist Duff et al. Instead, Axl has opted for a backing band that can rock and rock hard, but doesn't know the first thing about living on the edge.

And edge — that intangible rock-star quality of instability and excitement — is what Axl and the Gunners are missing these days. (No, his recent scuffle with that dope Tommy Hilfiger doesn't count as edge. That's just good sense.)

Was Wednesday's show entertaining? You bet. When the house lights finally dimmed and Slash replacement Robin Finck (of Nine Inch Nails) picked out the opening lick of Welcome to the Jungle, I felt like I was 17 again, listening to jaw-dropping blues-metal brilliance that is 1987's Appetite for Destruction.

Axl has been famously reclusive for almost 13 years, so he's rather well-preserved in a Howard Hughesian amber. He's a bit thicker in the torso now, and those unfortunate corn-rows make him look like a rasta leprechaun, but the guy can still slither-dance all over the stage and dutifully bring you to your n-n-n-n-knees.

And although his high-holy wail took a little while to warm up (the band was playing over him at first, perhaps on purpose), on the final chorus of Knockin' on Heaven's Door, he reared back and fired a doozy, a rageful, punky shriek that time-traveled two decades.

It's weird to accuse someone of being professional, but that's what Axl Rose has become: an efficient showman. After an explosive cover of Live and Let Die, he greeted us like a game-show host: "Hello, Tampa. It's very, very, very nice to be here." He gave faithful, loving renditions of all the hits: Sweet Child O' Mine, You Could Be Mine, Patience and an epic November Rain, the latter of which he played on a baby grand.

Throughout, he was efficient and sweet and normal. When bassist Tommy Stinson (of the Replacements) made a whispered request, Axl even obliged with "a love ballad": the murderously funny Used to Love Her. His new songs from the umpteen-years-in-the-making Chinese Democracy album (out any day now....really!) were even tame, save for Better, which has legit switchblade edge.

It was all perfectly fist-pumping and ear-ringing. But I must be honest: When Axl invited opening act Sebastian Bach to duet on My Michelle, I was secretly hoping he'd bash the Skid Row singer in the head.

You know, just for old-time's sake.