We Don?t Need No Stinking Jet SetBy JON PARELES
Published: May 24, 2007
Velvet Revolver is starting to look like a band of preservationists. At the Nokia Theater on Tuesday night the musicians arrived onstage as carefully costumed as any Civil War re-enactors. Scott Weiland, the lead singer, had his policeman-chauffeur hat, sunglasses, open jacket over a bare chest, studded belt and skintight pants. Slash, on guitar, had his Mad Hatter hat, shoulder-length curls, darker sunglasses and black T-shirt complete with four-letter word. To no one?s surprise the jacket, and later the T-shirt, came off.
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Rahav Segev for The New York Times
They play what they adamantly call rock ?n? roll (prefaced by the obligatory profanity), which is actually a particular local and historical variant: 1980s and ?90s Hollywood rock, glam meeting punk with a touch of grunge. It?s music about cravings ? for sex, drugs, fame and getting even ? and about the impact of guitar riffs and power chords backed by mighty drumbeats; it mixes preening arrogance with sullen dissatisfaction. ?All that first-class jet set gets me down,? Mr. Weiland sang in ?Big Machine.?
At this late date Velvet Revolver is probably the style?s most skillful working band. The members are old hands at Hollywood rock. Along with Mr. Weiland, who sang with Stone Temple Pilots, and two founders of Guns N? Roses, Slash and Duff McKagan on bass, Velvet Revolver includes a later Guns N? Roses drummer, Matt Sorum, and Dave Kushner on rhythm guitar.
Grunge and Guns N? Roses were more recent memories in 2004, when Velvet Revolver released its debut album, ?Contraband? (RCA). The sequel, ?Libertad? (RCA), is due on July 3 (after being delayed from this month), and the band is already touring. It played five new songs, including one, ?Get Out the Door,? about what must be a pressing social problem in Hollywood, transvestite come-ons. The cowbell-driven grunge of ?She Mine? and the 1950s-tinged ?Just 16? were fairly predictable, but the new single, ?She Builds Quick Machines,? was packed with multiple sections and oblique lyrics, ? la Led Zeppelin. And ?The Last Fight? built from folk-rock to earnest power ballad: ?They?re afraid when we spit out the fire and start living.?
But the set was mostly about strut and sneer; there were platforms on top of the stage monitors, so band members could step up and flaunt their moves. Punk provided the veneer, but metal?s respect for technique governed the sound. Mr. Weiland?s snarl deepened verse by verse; riffs built as they repeated until cymbals provided a crashing release. When Slash took solos, drawing on Eric Clapton?s supple phrasing and Jimi Hendrix?s bite, he held his guitar vertically and only moved his fingers.
Velvet Revolver moved outside its self-chosen niche to choose encores: Pink Floyd?s ?Wish You Were Here? (which Mr. Weiland dedicated to soldiers in Iraq) and, of all things, Talking Heads? ?Psycho Killer,? remade into an ominous hard-rock stomp. But in the end Velvet Revolver preserved its beloved roots: Its finale was Guns N? Roses? ?It?s So Easy.?