Thoughts and Meditations: Appetite for Destruction
There are three records that defined my teenage experience: Look What the Cat Dragged In by Poison, Let it Be by The Replacements and Appetite for Destruction by Guns n’ Roses. It’s an admittedly odd mixture. However they are significant because each of these records represent a part of my teenage personality. Look What the Cat Dragged In was the person I secretly aspired to be. Bret Michaels and the boys were in a fantasy world of supreme confidence and big breasted women. Let it Be was closest to my reality. Paul Westerberg’s lyrics were sensitive, confused and empathetic. Appetite For Destruction was the darkest record of them all. It was represented alienation and pure unadulterated rage.
I was discussing Appetite for Destruction with a friend not too long ago, and he told me that “Appetite isn’t as good as everyone says it is.” If you look at it from a completely musical standpoint, he’s right. “Anything Goes” and “You’re Crazy” are filler, and pad the album before the album’s highpoint, “Rocket Queen.” However, Appetite for Destruction isn’t a purely musical phenomenon. Axl Rose expressed feelings that I didn’t know how to express, especially in the genteel landscape of suburbia.
I discovered GNR during the summer of 1997. I had just begun to discover my musical identity. I bought my first KISS album the summer before and conveniently forgot to return Van Halen I to my best friend. I loved those two records, but my taste still consisted of the top 40 hits that most of my friends were listening to. Everything changed after a cookout.
My family belongs to the Baltimore Country Club, one of the most exclusive clubs in the country. I always felt out of place there. Kids would stare at me, run away because I was going to “run them over” and exclude me from all their activities. The 1997 Back to School cookout went pretty well at first. I was throwing a ball around with a few guys, playing Frisbee and having a good time. Then one of the kids decided that he wanted to play football on the volleyball court, which was made of sand. I asked him if we could play on the grass, since my chair couldn’t go in sand. He refused, and the entire group of kids left me in the grassy field. I watched them play football in the sand. The ring leader flashed a triumphant grin and taunted me. The DJ was playing “Ants Marching” by the Dave Matthews Band. I didn’t have any opinion of Dave, but now I hated him. He represented exclusion, snobbery and cruelty. I decided that I would find the polar opposite of Dave Matthews, something that would scare those prep school assholes to death.
My parents took me to Borders Music the next day. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I wanted the polar opposite of the Dave Matthews Band. After looking around for a few minutes, I found it. The cover depicted five skulls on a crucifix. The five guys on the cover looked like total scumbags. My parents were reluctant to let me have it, but after some smooth talking, they relented. I still remember what the clerk said as he rang me up, “This was the first record I ever bought.”
When I bought Appetite for Destruction, I wasn’t oblivious to GNR’s existence. They were a staple of 98 Rock’s playlist, but I was too wrapped up in KISS and Van Halen to pay attention. I’d heard “Welcome to the Jungle” a million times, so it didn’t have much of an impact. “Welcome” is an iconic opening track, but “It’s So Easy” is what blew me away. My stereo didn’t have a CD player, so I was forced to rely on my Sony Discman. It’s a good thing, because if my mom heard “It’s So Easy,” I would have lost my Appetite for Destruction. Axl said exactly what I was thinking, but didn’t have the balls to say: “You think you’re so cool…why don’t you just FUCK OFF!”
It was complete catharsis. I repeated that speech word for word inside my head whenever I saw that kid. I was able to funnel my anger through Axl, because he could say things without consequence. Teenage angst is nothing special; the entire nu-metal scene depended on it. Axl was different from Fred Durst and Jonathan Davis because there was depth to his anger. Many critics have discussed the coda at the end of “Rocket Queen”, where Axl professes love and undying friendship to the object of his desire. I think that says a lot about the teenage mentality. You are angry and pissed off most of the time, but when you get past the anger there is an untapped vein of sensitivity.
Appetite for Destruction was one of the first albums I ever reviewed, for my high school paper, The Griffin. I’ve written about it many times since then, because I think it needs to be reevaluated every few years. When I was a teenager, it was an accurate reflection of the anger I felt. When I was in college, they were the heir apparent to The Rolling Stones. When I listen to it at 24, it’s a fascinating portrait of a volatile man.
I’ve never replaced my copy of Appetite. The disc is marred by fingerprints, smudges and scratches. The cover has been missing in action for years. I’ve bought Born to Run, Purple Rain and London Calling many times, but I can’t bring myself to replace Appetite for Destruction. There’s too much history written on it.
