Guns N' Roses, O2 Dublin, review

Deliciously over-the-top: Guns N' Roses' Axl Rose, now 50

Axl Rose, the Guns N' Roses frontman, was gracious, good-humoured and almost punctual at his gig at the O2 in Dublin, writes Ed Power. 

With the charts untroubled by his effervescent shriek, it’s tempting to conclude that Axl Rose’s strategy for remaining in the spotlight has been to annoy as many people as possible. Last month the Guns N’ Roses frontman sulkily snubbed the band’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, widening the rift with the rest of the original line-up. It followed an American tour that saw G N’ R – nowadays essentially Rose and some hired help – going on close to or after midnight, leaving concert-goers torn between worshipping at the altar of old school hair-metal or missing the last bus.

Such antics have become all too familiar. In 2010, Rose exasperated a fair chunk of the 150,000 attending the Leeds and Reading festivals by turning up late and, at Reading, attempting to play through the curfew after organisers killed the power. Several days later he stormed off stage in Dublin when a plastic bottle was lobbed in his direction, presumably in protest at yet another tardy start.

On his return, one question, then, was surely paramount in the minds of G N’ R fans: would Rose come in the guise of rock deity or volcano-tempered prima donna? In fact, the 50-year-old singer, nursing a leg injury, was gracious, good-humoured and almost punctual. Arriving earlier than expected at 10.20pm, he began with a caterwauling Welcome to the Jungle, followed by the frontal charge of It’s So Easy and Mr Brownstone. On Sweet Child o’ Mine, the rollercoaster opening riff was accompanied by ardent mugging from top-hatted guitarist DJ Ashba, while the rest of the troupe, dressed as post-apocalyptic warriors, prowled back and forth, as if bothered by dreadfully itchy underpants.

Wearing a wide-brim hat and ludicrous moustache, Rose, too, got into the pantomime spirit. Shrugging off his damaged hamstring – he joked about his 2010 walk-off (“I hope you don’t mind me moving less than usual, although I’m probably moving a whole lot more than I was the last time I was here” – and chewed the scenery on deliciously over-the-top covers of AC/DC’s Whole Lotta Rosie and Paul McCartney’s Live and Let Die, the latter accompanied by dental-work-troubling explosions.

Still, at moments the near three-hour set felt more like an endurance test than a rock concert. Several tracks from 2008’s turgid comeback LP Chinese Democracy seemed to go on forever, as did a noodling tilt at The Who’s Baba O’Riley by piano player Dizzy Reed. Up in the balcony, at least one attendee had already witnessed enough. Ninety minutes in and with no end in sight, she rested her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, fast asleep as another interminable solo rumbled past.