The Most Dangerous Band In The World still know how to deliver the odd knockout blow across mammoth, draining three-hour show
"It's good to be back," grins Axl Rose, flashing his megabucks pearly whites to an audience stretching right up Donington's big hill. "It's so nice when a few close friends drop by..."
Twenty years on from Guns N' Roses' infamously shambolic, zero-out-of-five-K!-rated 2006 Donington headliner, few would have bet them to be the 'safe' bet at Download 2026. Indeed, a decade on from the first reunion of core trio Axl, Slash and Duff McKagan, the 'original' GNR have established themselves as one of the hardest touring, most reliable bands in heavy music.
That is very much a double-edged sword. Yes, it's nicer to see the intro tape beginning to roll a few minutes early than to be left kicking rocks not knowing when the headliners might turn up for half the night. And, sure, it's reassuring to know that Axl probably won't storm off because of piss-ripping punters hurling debris onstage. But Guns got to this point by being the most dangerous band in the world, and, frankly, you'd face more peril in the bogs tonight than smashing pints at the front of the stage. Welcome To The Jungle's iconic opening riff staggers out of the PA. It's So Easy feels weirdly like filler. Even the potentially dazzling early one-two of Mr. Brownstone and You Could Be Mine feel threadbare, worn thin by far too much recent touring.
Then things get better. In earnest, Axl and the gang sound much tighter than last summer. Songs are played in time, and the singer's decision to lower his vocals slightly helps them hit the mark. The obligatory cover of Bob Dylan's Knockin' On Heaven's Door doesn't drag out like a lunchtime wank interrupted by a work email, either. Their version of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath is bloody brilliant. And Axl looks great, trimmed down and repeatedly changing shirts, from bejewelled plaid numbers to a black leather one unbuttoned almost to his belly button.
Yes, the set is still wildly overlong. There's no need for the Duff-led cover of Sex Pistols' Black Leather or Axl's take on Jimmy Webb standard Wichita Lineman when it means an already mammoth performance dragging on for almost three hours. And the couple of extended jams are less piss-breaks than real opportunities to go squeeze out an uninterrupted shit. But when they do finally hit the hot streak tonight, Guns feel utterly unstoppable.
Sweet Child O ' Mine sees tens of thousands suddenly warming up to find full voice. November Rain is better, somehow even louder, still. Axl smirks at the lingering light in the sky as they pile into a turbo-charged Nightrain that makes the whole festival feel like it's been loaded onto the back of a speeding locomotive. Then Paradise City tears the house down: one of rock's greatest anthems spectacularly realised in one of its most storied venues with fans losing their shit.
It's heartening. Their finest years might be behind them and, this far into the reunion, extended time off is perhaps overdue. But nights like this are proof that when GN'R truly hit their stride they've still got the firepower to blow all comers away. (SL)
