Rock on Velvet Revolver!

So I walk into the Austin Music Hall to see Velvet Revolver and run into about eighteen ghosts from relationships past. Slyther is standing there waiting for me and lo and behold, he’s talking to Gringo Especial. Er, hello Gringo. No, I don’t remember your friend from Hawaii. No, I don’t want to compare tans. No, I don’t want you standing next to me. I am suddenly reminded of what was so Especial about him. His ability to talk non-stop. We’re talking verbal diarrhea, people.

There’s a good hour or two of double vodka tonics for me, Slyther and his buddy Jesus to watch the people come and go. Velvet Revolver is going to take their time. I imagine they want us good and liquored up in case they really suck. I manage to run into two more people from Relationships Past. Sigh. More vodka tonic please! Luckily Slyther offers to buy me one before realizing what I’m drinking. After verifying that I’m not driving home, he purchases another delicious cocktail. He and Jesus entertain me by evaluating all the menz around. Apparently there are not too many ladies who hang at Velvet Revolver shows. It’s a regular sausage party in here!

Ooooh, finally the band is starting. Scott Weiland comes out wearing a vest, leather pants, a cop hat and aviator sunglasses. The band starts rocking out. I stand on my tiptoes and babble drunkenly about how much I love Slash. Where is he? Ohhh yes, there is the crazy hair and the magic guitar-playing. And who is that on the other side? Why, it’s Duff! It’s a strange throwback to middle school as I watch the boys run around stage. How high are they? I wonder, and sip my beer.

So then Scott removes his vest, hat and sunglasses. Slyther and I are both astounded and disturbed. Mr. Weiland? Stop doing the heroin. Really. Stop. Because, I mean, when I’m trying to enjoy a concert and all I can think about is, “Wow, I bet I wouldn’t fit into those leather pants he’s got on,” something is wrong. He is positively skin and bones. He looks horrible. And it’s distracting. Honestly, I’m barely paying attention to the music. Apparently his tactic is working.

They play about 10 Velvet Revolver songs and I don’t really know any of them. I’m just enjoying the pure rock and roll of it. I am encouraged to continue head-banging with Slyther.

“This is going to hurt tomorrow!” I yell, holding my neck.

“I’m used to it!” he yells back. “Do a circle – throw your hair all the way around!” he advises me, and of course I try it. [The next day at the Election Party I remember this move and rub my sore neck with a wry smile.]

Their best songs by far, though, are the GNR and STP they’ve borrowed from their respective bands. And I know that they have one great song that actually gets radio play: “Slither.”

“Dude, they are so going to finish with your song,” I tell Slyther. I’m immediately reminded of El Dilector’s proclamation: “Closing with a hit – how passe.” But I have to giggle to myself, as there’s no one around to share that joke.

Slyther shakes his head at me. “You are such a silly drunk girl.”

I just shake my head at him when the guitar chords of the closing song reach our ears. Yes, indeed, it’s “Slither.” And I am right dammit!

Three stars: All in all, a good old-fashioned rock and roll extravaganza with people-watching a-plenty.

-Shakira 11.08.04