145. Copenhagen, Denmark

“Let's see if I know where I am:
Am I in Sweden?”
[NO!]
“Am I in Holland?”
[NO!]
“Am I in Copenhagen?”
[YEAH!]
“Well, do you know where the fuck you are?
You’re in the jungle, baby…”

137. 'November Rain' Video Treatment

A fiery vision heralds the autumn sun singeing
the land with frosted crust hues of umber, carmine
and crimson; skies so wide they stretch
and smile for many a mile over plane and
canyon. Cut to: a young man and women

so very much in love they appear drunk.
They are Anthony and Cleopatra, they are
Catherine and Heathcliff, John and Yoko
they are star-crossed visions of purity and
beauty. Cut to: a band performing with a full

orchestra in opulent, theatrical surroundings.
A man is seated at a grand piano. We see that
it is he, the young lover. As he begins to sing
his voice is full of longing, longing for his lover
who he envisions in a snow-white wedding dress

it the girl of his dreams, a creature of such
ethereal and staggering beauty that the viewer is
nearly struck dumb. Cut to: a church, a wedding.
It is our young protagonists at the altar, surrounded
by their family and friends and band. Cut to:

The Rainbow Bar & Grill where the young man
is with his pals and his loved one. Cut to: the church,
where the best man temporarily loses the ring (evoking
‘pathos’), cut to: the open road, to Harleys, to fireworks,
cut to: the priest, the vows, the exchanging of rings.

Cut to: the kiss, to the exterior of the church, to the
desert, Slash in leathers, legs akimbo, soloing like
his life depends upon it. Cut to: the live show,
to the church, to the lovers, to the wedding party,
but most importantly cut to: some November rain.

Please note: the rain must coincide with the climactic
section of the song; if we get nothing else right it must
be this. Please also note: it is imperative that the rain
looks like it is falling in ‘November’. Cut to: a funeral
service, more rain, whose funeral – the young bride?

Cut to: more rain, a tossed wedding bouquet in slow motion,
a casket being lowered into the earth. Torrential rain now.
The young man tossing and turning alone in bed. Outside:
rain falls. The casket is buried, he wakes in a sweat.
Repeat all of the above for nine minutes, fade out. Roll credits.

136. Steve The Bodyguard

I guess that film with Whitney
got one thing right; in this game

the safety of your client is paramount.
It’s your job to make sure they’re OK

at all times. You also have to comport
yourself with discretion, not get phased

and you have to tread a fine line between
following what you’re meant to do

and what the client wants you to do; with
rock stars there’s definitely a difference.

Typical example: Sweden, August 1992.
I’m asked to stick to my client like glue.

His management tells me he’s been
getting a little wacky of late; unpredictable.

So it’s show time and we’re due to leave
Outside the hotel the limo is waiting.

I’m suited, in shades, smelling like roses.
I’m alert, I’m primed, I’m ready for anything.

“I’m due on in twenty minutes,” says my client
fixing his hair. “Let’s get this thing rolling.”

We hit the elevator, down from the penthouse,
then glide across the smooth floor of the foyer.

“Oh wait,” he says. “I want to play some roulette.”
and with that he hits the casino for an hour.

Meanwhile, the phone is ringing off the hook
with people flipping out “Yo, where is he, Steve?

What have you done with him? Is everything alright?”.
On and on, down through all tiers of the organisation.

So I’m, like, OK, you gotta chill on this. Right now
he’s gambling, but I’m gonna bring him over very soon.

This is when a bit of diplomacy comes in handy.
I speak to the guy and gently suggest we should get going.

Finally he cashes in his chips and agrees, “Yeah.
Let’s get this thing rolling,” and we’re on our way.

Only it doesn’t end there. We’re ten minutes from
the venue where 13,000 Swedes are drunk and bored

and my client suddenly snaps alert. “Stop the car!
Stop the car now!”. I’m like, what’s up brother?

Is everything OK? What can I do? And he’s, like,
“Look – over there: fireworks” and I’m thinking

yeah, and?, and he’s like “They’re awesome.
I love fireworks. Let’s go see them close up”

so next thing I know we’re taking a diversion
to go see some stinking firework display when

we should be halfway through a show and though
I want to say, dude, get a grip, I can’t because

the safety and happiness of the client comes first
and besides he could fire me on the spot and

then what do you have? A rock star lost in Stockholm
and me stranded, jobless, the cold shoulder treatment

and, furthermore, you’d have 13,000 pissed off Swedes
and four very annoyed musicians ready to tear you a new ass.

See, you have to think professionally, so I’m like:
Sure buddy, let’s go see some fireworks,

and all the while I’m thinking ahead
trying to maintain, remembering procedure.

So that’s exactly what we do: we go watch
some fireworks until the client gets bored or

psyched or whatever it is he needs to do to
play a show and eventually we’re pulling away

and speeding to the venue at 100mph and the client
is sitting looking out the window, totally unphased

We drive straight down a ramp and through a
loading bay and park up twenty feet from the stage

where the band are in the middle of some sort
of shitty blues jam dirge and though everyone

backstage is losing their minds no-one dares
rag on my client because, after, all, this whole

thing still hinges on him, even though, deep down,
I know, none of this would possible without

guys like me. The bodyguards. The drivers. The techs
The caterers. All the assholes you see straight through

when you’re too busying idolising the latest pipsqueak
ego-tripping little fuckhead who I’m paid to serve.

126. Six-String Wish List

In order of preference:

Keith Richards
Jimmy Page
Joe Perry
Dave Navarro
John Frusciante
Ronnie Wood
Brian May
Lenny Kravitz
Wayne Kramer
Steve Jones
Sylvain Sylvain
Pat Smear
Rich Robinson
Brad Whitford
Andy McCoy
Big Sick Ugly Jim Martin
Gilby Clarke.

122. Tour Poster, August 1991

Guns N' F____g Roses
Wembley F____g Stadium
Sold F____g Out

Paris, France
Mannheim, Germany
Helsinki, Finland
Copenhagen, Denmark
Cologne, Germany
Berlin, Germany

120. Guy In Front Of Queue For Tower Records On Sunset

I’ve been here for twenty hours
and I’d wait twenty more just
to get my hands on Illusion I
and II. I slept out here all night.
Look, I brought a sleeping bag
and a flask of soup and my girl
Trudy. Say hi Trudy. Trudy’s
kind of shy, except when she’s
in the sack, heh heh. Why am I
here? Because I love Guns N
Roses of course and because I
love rock ‘n’ roll and because
I want to be able to say I was one
of the first people in the world to
hear the new record. Where do I
live? In the suburbs, about three
hours drive from here. No, I only
have a radio in the car. What do
you mean? Oh, like how am I going
to listen actually listen to the record?
On my turntable at home, blazin’ a
J, of course! So what’s the point
of queuing all night if I’m not one
of the first to hear the records? Well…
Well, shoot. You got me there. I
hadn’t really though of it like that.
Damn, man, now you’ve got me
thinking about maybe I could have
just stayed in bed and bought the
record at my local store when it
opens in the morning. Oh, man. Shoot.
Well, we’re here now. One of us
might aswell stay and pick up the
records. Hey Trudy, I’ll pick you up
back here in the morning OK? You’ll
be alright – there’s still some soup in
the flask and if you get cold there’s that
Salvation Army place about ten blocks
from here. Watch out for the weirdo’s
though. It’s Hollywood. It’s fucked up.
But it’s worth it for Guns man. Yeah!

103. Police Escort

It takes sixteen cops cars with sirens
blaring and blue lights spinning to
get us out through the crowds and back
to our hotel twenty miles away.

We all share a dark chuckle about this:
about how the cops are protecting us
from the people, rather than the other
way round. It makes for a nice change.

93. Matt and Dizzy Learn The Way Of The Rose

I guess we’re making a quadruple album?
I mean, that’s what we read in Spin.

‘G n R Frontman Unveils Ambitious
Plans For Two Double Albums’

“I’ve got 652 songs demo’d, I just
need to teach the band them,”

is what it said, so I guess that’s what
we’re doing. Just waiting for the call.

It’s cool because I get to go cycling in the hills
a lot more and Dizzy has his water-colours.

But, you know, it would be kinda cool to,
like, you know, jam some tunes or something.

At the moment being in Guns just means
sitting around eating steak frites and watching TV.

Which is actually kind of like my life before I joined
the band, only the TV is bigger, and I have a boss now.

I guess we’ve just got to sit tight and be ready to
rock that shit, right Dizz? Dizz? He’s nodded off.