The 6-year-old, who'd been utterly immersed in her coloring, immediately gets down and, without a word, begins running back and forth in the kitchen, occasionally leaping as far and as gracefully as she can. The 9-year-old comes in and listens a moment, then says, "What's this song called?" Such is the power of rock and roll.
Axl Rose may be a nutjob and a d-bag and the Gunners may have quickly flamed out but that all pales in comparison to the majesty and the glory of Slash's guitar on this song, in the solo, yes, but primarily on the song's main riff. Sure, they had other popular songs and albums but nothing will ever touch this—but, then, nothing ever needs to.
These days the band may very well be known more for their poseur histrionics than their music, and while that's entirely their own damn fault, it's also a shame. Because the first thing people should always think of when they think of Guns N' Roses should be this: guitar writing and playing so magnificent it could have made even Jimmy Page or Jimi Hendrix proud.
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