It's interesting to note the diversity of the two LPs
that vie for the top spot in 1987: Guns N' Roses' Appetite for Destruction and
The Pet Shop Boys' Actually. One truly brought legit heavy metal to the masses,
the other single-handedly created EDM (Electonic Dance Music). As a poseur more
into The Cult With No Name than I'd like to remember, my circle of friends, colloquially
known in L.A. as the Depkids, was more than disconcerted when Appetite arrived and
we realized that something key had happened without us. We hung out at The Roxy
and The New Florentine Gardens bopping around to Haircut One Hundred and
Altered Images (it was a phase); this instead was the stuff of the Starwood, a club
we were less than welcome (even punks liked us more than the metalheads). So despite
its importance as a dance era catalyst, Actually is 1987's also ran. Appetite
for Destruction, with hits (that’s right, heavy metal hits) "Welcome to the Jungle," "Paradise City," and "Sweet Child o'
Mine," looms much larger. By injecting riff-driven pop tunes with snarky punk
energy, the quintet veered rock 'n' roll into raw, primal territory that had
been (pretty) vacant since the 70s. The facts? Ferocious, intensely
melodramatic rock 'n' roll checked with a melodic sense of romanticism that Axl
Rose desperately tried to hide with his bad-boy image (subsequently mimicked by
anyone with access to a bandana and quirky dance moves). This was heavy metal
for the masses. "Sweet Child O'Mine" became an instant hit, quite
justly - the guitar intro remaining one of the definitive statements of the '80s -
resuscitating the stagnating hard rock scene. Yearning, love-sickness, joy and
sadness blend in the first half of this classic track, destroyed in the final
act by a blast of angst as Slash and Izzy Stradlin tear the romance apart,
augmenting Rose's pained shrieks with devastating guitar.
Oddly, Guns N' Roses is stronger in its subtleties than its excesses - the
lovely acoustic guitar that punctuates the chorus of "Think about You," for example, is contrary to the fire-breathing electric-guitar riffs of "Paradise City," a tune that promises dreams and hope while
offering neither. GNR had a voice as well as a persona. Don't get this wrong,
Appetite is no hidden intellectual gem; one indeed has to weed through lines like "Panties
'round your knees with your ass in the breeze." As such, Appetite is difficult
to judge cerebrally (are we supposed to?);
once you get past the adrenaline and some silliness, though, there are subtle, thoughtful
undertones throughout. Axl's frenzied, impossibly versatile voice screamed
higher and more powerfully than any other hair band frontman of his time, and
Slash's guitar set a standard for excellence. Without lipstick or spandex, Guns
N' Roses kicked every other ass without posturing.
At a time when pop was dominated by dance music, new wave and pop-metal, Guns N' Roses brought raw, ugly rock 'n' roll crashing back into the charts. They were not nice boys; nice boys don't play rock 'n' roll. They were ugly, misogynistic, and violent; they were also funny, vulnerable, and occasionally sensitive, as their breakthrough hit,"Sweet Child O'Mine," made clear as Axl screeched out his tales of sex, drugs, and apathy in the big city. Guns N' Roses' music was basic and gritty, with a solid hard, bluesy base; they were dark, sleazy, dirty, and honest - everything that heavy metal should be. There was something refreshing about a band who could provoke everything from devotion to hatred in the same breath. There hadn't been a hard rock band this raw or talented in years, and they were given added weight by Axl Rose 's primal rage, the sound of confused, frustrated white trash vying for his piece of the pie.
