162. Unpublished Interview

Unpublished transcript by Craig Stenzer for short-lived official website www.imaxlroseandyourenotaxlrose.com, circa 2003.

CS: Hello Axl.
AR: Word up. Do you want a drink? Hey, Rico – get this kid a drink!

CS: Thanks man. I wanted to start by asking how you’re doing?
AR: I’m tickety-boo, thanks for asking. Wait…didn’t you use to be in my band?

CS: Your band?
AR: Yeah, man. I’m sure you sat in on bass in some Gunners sessions in ‘94. Your name is Robbie right?

CS: No, it’s Craig.
AR: Awesome. I’m with you 100% hundred on that.

CS: So, Axl, who are your Top 5 influences?
AR: Mr Jim Beam. Mr. Jack Daniels. Myself. Charles Manson. Manhatma (sic) Ghandhi. In that order.

CS: What song would you like played at your funeral?
AR: No music, just one minute’s silence. Maybe longer. Like….one hour’s silence? And I want a solitary black rose thrown in my coffin and my ashes scattered over John Lennon’s grave. He was definitely my favourite Rolling Stone.

CS: You want to be buried and cremated?
AR: We’ll work something out. Geffen can foot the bill.

CS: How’s Slash doing these days?
AR: Who?

CS: But you’re still friends with Izzy, aren’t you?
AR: Whatever. He helps around the house sometimes.

CS: What would you say to people who accuse you of being a megalomaniac?
AR: I’ve never stolen anything in my life. Except maybe a few hearts, right?

CS: How did you react to the recent events of 9/11?
AR: I had a full-body massage. Played a little golf. I’m thinking of maybe incorporating the imagery into the live set. Some people might say that’s crass, but I’m not so sure…

CS: Some people might deem it a little insensitive?
AR: Awesome. I’m with you 100% on that.

CS: What about Osama bin Laden?
AR: Word is he’s a big Guns N’ Roses fan.

CS: Really?
AR: Yeah, I’d say so. Most people are so…you do the math. And if he’s not then Saddam is, so either way I figure we’ve got a couple of dictators in our fan-club. It’s funny.

CS: Funny how?
AR: Huh?

CS: People have suggested you’re a control freak though – just because of the way the band has turned out.
AR: How do you mean?

CS: Like, how you sacked all the members and then bought the sole ownership of the name Guns N’ Roses, then kinda disappeared?
AR: I did? Right on. That rules. I think if I wasn’t me I think that I’d think me was cool for doing that, you know? I mean, you’ve got to have balls to survive in this business and all I can say about them other cats is, they were all sac and no scrotum. And it’s not even how big they are anyway, but how they hang that’s important.

CS: And how…how do your balls hang?
AR: I know we’re in West Hollywood, but don’t be a faggot, man.

CS: Do you believe in God?
AR: I believe in a universal spirit force that possesses each of us individually and selects some of us to be a genius and some of us to be less fortunate. Like cripples and stuff. I
think this God wears black and rides a Harley. But the twist is - get this - he’s a chick. Yeah, a black chick. Like Oprah!

CS: You think God looks like Oprah Winfrey?
AR: What are you talking about? Are you drunk?

CS: So do you believe in the afterlife?
AR: Maybe, but I believe in rock ‘n’ roll more.

CS: What’s your favourite joke?
AR: President Clinton. That guy’s a fucking joke.

CS: Well, I mean…he’s not actually president right now.
AR: Sure, but they’re all assholes right? Him and Nixon.

CS: What are your goals for the future?
AR: World peace. The way I see it, there’s only me and Bono capable of achieving that goal, and the little Irish fella ain’t fronting. I mean, has anyone actually heard of U2 these days anyway?

CS: Why is the new album [Chinese Democracy] taking so long to record?
AR: I’m done.

(kicks over chair, leaves).

39. Making The Album

I show up first, around five
enjoy the silence
with a coffee.

Duff follows soon after
a little drunk
but enthusiastic.

Adler arrives around nine
with a couple of skanks
but no kit.

I ball him out
and he flees
to the nearest dealer.

Izzy shows at midnight
corpse white and
on the nod.

Duff is re-stringing
his bass
and Adler’s still gone.

Slash turns up around two,
whispers conspiratorially
to Iz

and they disappear
to the bathroom
for an hour.

Duff is still re-stringing
his bass, stumbling about
breaking shit.

Port wine bottles. A painting
on the wall. This cool little amp
they used on Pet Sounds.

Slash and Iz return
“Are we ready yet or what?”
but Adler’s still gone

I launch a balalaika at their heads,
taking Slash’s top hat off;
hair spills down like a black waterfall.

Iz mumbles something incoherent
Slash retrieves his hat
Duff looks up: “We need more wine.”

It’s five AM
the sun is coming up
and so far

we have a bass with two strings
various comedowns
and a vortex opening up ahead.

The producer shows up at nine.
Turns out we were a day early anyway.
That’ll never happen again.

10. Sunset, '83.

The light is different here.
The way it permeates and
penetrates like crooked lasers
bending around buildings that
perch over the city like mirrored
watchtowers keeping all that
ugliness at bay (a barrier between
the wealthy and the needy)
it reminds me of the ants I used to
burn beneath a magnifying glass
in that godforsaken hole of
a backyard they called Indiana, 74.

7. Birthing Izzy

It’s true
he had no-one.

I remember
the day we met

in a Driver’s
Ed, class for drunks.

He was
like,

“I’m Axl,
who are you?

“Jeffrey,” I said.
“Jeffrey Dean Isbell.”

“That’s a pussy
name,” he said.

“You need
A new one.

Something rad
something rock ‘n’ roll

something that’s
yours. I mean

what do
you like to do?”

“I guess I
like to fuck.”

“Alright. Then
you’re ‘Izzy Stradlin’.”

And Gunners
was born right there, man.