Last of the Giants

by Mick Wall

  For two years, Velvet Revolver had managed to balance their herculean egos, they had survived lawsuits, bitchy media speculation and the onset of relapse, but in August 2007 Scott Weiland admitted that bad cracks had begun rippling through the band’s foundations. ‘When things really go south,’ he told the Washington Post, ‘and we start getting in that big drill car and driving to hell, we usually get together and talk. How successful that is depends on everybody’s state of mind at the time. Usually it works out fairly well. But lately there’s been some things that have happened that definitely shouldn’t have happened – where band members have irresponsibly used the media as a tool and said things that they shouldn’t have said. And that’s fucking blasphemy, because a band should be a safe haven regardless of what goes on. It doesn’t matter what kind of problems a family is having; it should always stay in the family. The fucking media is bad enough as it is. It seems like everyone’s got an agenda, and the agenda seems to be selling magazines or air time with sensational stories. Look at the shit with Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, these tragic figures. It’s not like any of that stuff is new; that kind of shit has been happening for years. It’s just that the media didn’t hound them. When people fell, they either fell again or they picked themselves up and figured it out. But it wasn’t on E! or the celebrity news shows 100 per cent of the time. It’s become an addiction for the American public. People are more interested in that shit than the upcoming election.’

  Weiland was referring to a recent Rolling Stone article in which Matt Sorum had seemed to suggest that Velvet Revolver were on the verge of breaking up after just two albums, prompting a band meeting to circle the wagons. Matt subsequently sought to emolliate his comments, stating, ‘A lot of that stuff I said was taken out of context. We’re getting along pretty good right at this moment. We have days here and there where we have a beef just like anyone else who might be in a working relationship or like a relationship with a husband and wife. It’s about ten million times better than when it used to be when Guns N’ Roses was running back in the day where everything was so dramatic all the time.’ Pressed to comment on possible Guns N’ Roses or Stone Temple Pilot reunions – rumours of which had both been gathering momentum throughout recent months – Matt stonewalled: ‘We don’t know anything about it. I’m sure our managers and agents and everybody else probably have got something up their sleeves. We’re so in Velvet Revolver right now; we’re booked on this tour for another year. [The reunions] are not going to happen anytime soon. There’s never been any mention of it between us.’

  In fact, there had been tentative discussions behind the scenes to do with reuniting Slash and Duff with Axl but there were still several stumbling blocks. Top of the list: Axl’s raw need to save face and get Chinese Democracy out of the way first. But with Axl still insisting the album was about to be released anytime now and Velvet Revolver gearing up for a second and final album together, the feeling was that it could happen within the next couple of years. The money was certainly there, millions of dollars just to do some weekend festivals; a great deal more if they could actually keep it together long enough to make a new album. Easygoing Slash was certainly up for it, even though it was fairly obvious that Axl would not countenance working with Matt Sorum again, nor with Steven Adler. As for Izzy Stradlin, that question would remain moot. After he had bailed out early on from Velvet Revolver, nobody was ready to engage with that question unless it became a necessity. In the meantime, born-again businessman Duff presented the biggest stumbling block when he insisted he and Slash would only consider a reunion tour if Axl was made accountable for any financial penalties or losses incurred from the singer either not showing up on time, not showing up at all, and/or, God forbid, walking off mid-set, thus triggering another riot on the scale of St Louis. According to one insider, it was this last point that killed the deal.

  Meanwhile, Velvet Revolver had finished Libertad in February, and the mixing was completed in March. They released its first single, ‘She Builds Quick Machines’, in May, with the full album release on 3 July. By most standards, its entry into the charts would have been impressive, debuting at Number 5 and selling over 90,000 copies in the first week. Compared to Contraband, however, it was a disappointing performance that did little to engender the sort of us-against-the-world camaraderie of its predecessor. Which was a pity as, musically, Libertad was much more of an instant hit than its sometimes murky predecessor. As soon as the pumping riff to ‘Let It Roll’ came tumbling out of the speakers like a machine gun spraying bullets, it became clear that all those months on the road had helped rub off the rough edges, helping the bloody stumps left peeking out of their fancy new clothes heal into a brand new multi-limbed creature no longer reliant on their mangled former musical bodies to make sense. It’s the same story with tracks like ‘She’s Mine’ and ‘Get Out the Door’: top-drawer, shades-on rock delivered with such private-plane panache the album goes straight to the mainline.

  The only perplexing moment was the inclusion of a cover of the 1974 ELO hit ‘Can’t Get It Out of My Head’. The original was a classic orchestral pop moment. This sounded like unnecessary filler. Conspiracy theorists had a field day, however, pointing out that while none of Velvet Revolver’s principal members had ever professed a liking for ELO, they had famously always been one of Axl Rose’s favourites. The album’s coup-de-grâce came in the final track, ‘Gravedancer’, a toxic ballad built around a sinuous Slash guitar figure in the ‘Fall to Pieces’ mould, Weiland once again apparently speaking to himself as he stares in the mirror: ‘Every time it goes down / Every time she comes down / Every time we fall down / She dances all over me …’

  Libertad was also pervaded by a strong sense of the dominant artist on each track: ‘For a Brother’ (Weiland’s ode to his brother) and the audaciously infectious ‘Mary, Mary’ (the name of the singer’s ex-wife), while tracks like ‘Let It Roll’ and ‘Spay’ tapped into the serpentine pulse of Use Your Illusion-era Guns N’ Roses. Reception was again mixed, with Rolling Stone’s David Fricke hailing Libertad as boasting ‘plenty of thrill in the fuzz-lined hard-rubber bends of Slash’s guitar breaks and the way bassist Duff McKagan keeps time, like a cop swinging a billy club. There is honest depth here too.’ Entertainment Weekly gave the album an A–, calling the album ‘so chock-full of the tight’n’crunchy pedigreed hard rock that’s in short supply these days, it feels both comfortingly familiar and vaguely exotic … Our advice? Stop pining for a new Guns N’ Roses release, break out your air guitars, and bask in the glory of Libertad.’ The New York Times offered a more critical assessment, stating, ‘Libertad sounds old, heavy, wrapped in a tough skin. At the same time, by virtue of sheer out-dated flamboyance, it seems almost wilfully naive.’ Time has revealed the truth to be somewhere in between. Aided by O’Brien’s talents and vision, Libertad felt sonically much more cohesive than Contraband, with considerably greater depth and scale. Lyrically, Libertad revealed Weiland to be at the very top of his game, summoning a confessional intimacy that at times felt disconnected from the chugging riffs and sleaze-rock posturing. Ironically, while some dogged on Contraband for suffering a lack of connection between singer and material, that criticism rang true on Libertad, with Weiland’s clean, velvety croon often at odds with the jagged thrust of Slash and Kushner’s dual-fretted onslaught. Fair or not, had another band released Libertad in 2007, they would have been hailed as the new standard-bearers of classic rock. Measured against the impossibly high commercial watermark set by its predecessor, though, and overshadowed by the towering legacies of Velvet Revolver’s feeder bands, it never stood a chance.

  They filmed videos for ‘She Builds Quick Machines’ and later ‘The Last Fight’ and headed out on tour in September 2007 with Alice in Chains opening for them. ‘This has been one of the best tours I’ve ever been involved in,’ Slash said at the time. ‘It’s cool because this band is really good friends with the Alice in Chains guys. We’re from similar backgrounds, a simila
r period. We’ve all been through a lot, and it’s all been really cool.’ However, the guitarist would later reveal that the weather in the Velvet Revolver camp wasn’t quite so sunny, confessing that he felt like the band were losing their connection with Scott, whom he described as appearing ‘out to lunch’. Certainly the shadows now appeared to be swallowing them. Although they had planned to tour Japan and Australia for a second time and added shows in Nagoya, Osaka, Yokohama, Tokyo, Brisbane, Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide, the Japanese dates were cancelled when the band’s request for visas was refused.

  Internally relations between Weiland, Slash and Duff were now in tatters. In January 2008 they kicked off the Rock’ N’ Roll As It Should Be tour, cutting the campaign short after just ten dates so Scott could check into another detox and rehab. They first cancelled their 7 February show in San Diego, then released a statement that read: ‘Velvet Revolver regret to announce they’re unable to perform their five upcoming concert dates in Australia that were scheduled for February 15–20. The cancellation of these shows will allow lead singer Scott Weiland to continue treatment at a rehab facility, which he voluntarily entered after the band’s February 6 performance in Los Angeles. Velvet Revolver deeply apologize to their fans in Australia and thank them for sticking by the group when various members have relapsed during the last year and a half.’

  According to Slash, the Australian cancellations were the last straw, so that even before leaving for their final tour in the UK, they had agreed to fire their singer, stating, ‘When [Scott] came back [from the January tour], he was supposed to go to rehab, so we postponed our Australian tour but he didn’t really go to rehab. That was the final blow. We had a lot of commitments, like the tour in the UK, which we didn’t want to go back on, so we wanted to finish those before telling him.’ As if the situation could bear any additional complexity, the Stone Temple Pilots announced that they were reuniting with Weiland for a 65-date North American tour, beginning in May with Ohio’s Rock on the Range festival. Apparently unfazed, Slash announced that the band would return to the studio at the completion of the STP tour to begin work on Velvet Revolver’s next record. But few inside the VR camp actually believed that. Or that, if there were to be another album, Weiland would be on it.

  Velvet Revolver’s disastrous final tour took place in Europe, beginning in March. With the smiling subterfuge of a mafia hit, unbeknownst to Weiland, the band embarked on the campaign having already decided to fire the singer when the tour concluded, though the singer soon sussed the plans because of how they all now treated him. ‘We basically didn’t speak a word [to Scott] that whole time,’ said Slash. ‘We gave him the cold shoulder in the UK like nobody’s business. There were a couple of arguments around the stage, but, other than that, nobody spoke to him. I imagine he was quite uncomfortable. No wonder he didn’t have a good time. Then he told everyone in Glasgow that the whole band was over. We were like, “Oh well, I guess we’ve got a surprise coming for you, Scott.” For the most part, I don’t really remember seeing much of him. We flew to Dubai together … Well, I think I remember him being on the plane, anyway. We sort of got used to him not being around. He’s never really been part of the mechanics of the group, he’s always been separate and doing his own little thing.’

  On 20 March, at a sold-out show at Glasgow’s SECC, Weiland announced from the stage that the audience were seeing something special – ‘the last tour by Velvet Revolver’. Weiland had only articulated what everyone had been thinking for months, and with that simple statement the singer brought to a close the most commercially successful and transfixing supergroup of the ’00s. In the wake of the show, a vitriolic war of words raged, beginning with a statement from Matt Sorum the morning after the Glasgow show: ‘So last night was interesting. Had a little band turmoil on stage, as you probably all could tell. Being in a band is a lot like being in a relationship. Sometimes you just don’t get along. I guess there has been more turmoil lately, with the cancellations and all. It has been frustrating, I am not going to lie. My career and life in rock’n’roll has come with its ups and downs. Unfortunately, some people in this business don’t realise how great of a life they have. Touring the world, meeting great people and fans all over the world. And just playing music for a living. I feel truly blessed. But sometimes the road can be draining for some. Being away from home and family does grind on you sometimes, with all the travelling and different beds. Personally, I love this shit and sometimes can’t believe I am so lucky to still be doing what I do for a living. Everybody could see who was unhappy last night, but all I can say is let’s keep the rock alive, people! In this life, you just pick up and keep moving. And don’t ever let anybody stand in your way.’

  Weiland wasn’t going to let him get away with that, responding swiftly: ‘Well, first of all, the state of my family affairs is really none of his business, since he is too immature to have a real relationship, let alone children. So don’t attempt to stand in a man’s shoes when you haven’t walked his path. Secondly, “keeping rock’n’roll alive”? I’ve made many attempts to remain cordial with the members of VR, but mainly, the likes of you. Funny though – this is your first band, as opposed to being a hired gun. I’ve been making records (now on my ninth), which have sold over 35 million copies worldwide and have maintained a level of professionalism regardless of how many drugs I’ve ingested into my system. I have only cancelled one tour during the entire course of my 16-year run and that was the “make-up” Australia tour. Now, shall I open that can of worms, Matthew? Release the Kraken? Serve … Volley! You cancelled the Aussie tour in the fall because you went to rehab, but I won’t say why … As for our fans – I will sweat, bruise, and bleed for you. And will continue to do so until the end of this tour. However, you deserve to hear Velvet Revolver playing … not certain individuals singing along to get a muddied-up sound. God forbid – could one imagine if I grabbed a guitar and started soloing along with Slash? That would never happen because I know my place. It’s a shame … we were a gang. But ego and jealousy can get the better of anyone. I wish the best and plan to annihilate the stage in the last few shows.’ Then the coup de grâce: ‘On a separate note, we did an STP photo shoot before this tour and it was fun, inspiring and it gave me that thrill – that feeling that got my rocks off from the get-go.’

  On 1 April 2008, the band made it official, announcing that Velvet Revolver had parted ways with Scott Weiland. According to a press release from Slash, ‘This band is all about its fans and its music and Scott Weiland isn’t 100% committed to either. Among other things, his increasingly erratic onstage behaviour and personal problems have forced us to move on.’ Though both Slash and Duff would insist that Velvet Revolver would find another singer and carry on, four years would pass before the band would play another gig, and then only as a one-off, as a kind of belated farewell.

  Unsurprisingly, Weiland’s response the next day was both swift and withering. ‘I find it humorous that the so-called four “founding members” of Velvet Revolver would decide to move on without me after I had already claimed the group dead in the water on 20 March in Glasgow.’ Referring to his reunion with STP, the singer said, ‘I choose to look forward to the future and performing with a group of friends I have known my entire life. This also speaks to my commitment to the fans who I feel would much rather watch a group of musicians who enjoy being together as opposed to a handful of discontents who at one time used to call themselves a gang.’ Unable to resist a parting shot, he concluded with a snarky valedictory call to his former bandmates, saying, ‘Good hunting, lads, I think Sebastian Bach would be a fantastic choice.’

  They would audition a fresh raft of singers, including Slipknot’s Corey Taylor, who seemed enthusiastic about a role in the band, although Slash felt that stylistically the pairing lacked the vibe he sought, saying, ‘Corey came in, just like a lot of other guys came in. Of course, Corey’s Corey, and he’s probably one of the best guys out there. I love Corey. I just thought it was
a different style than what Velvet Revolver was trying to capture. But, still, the songs are cool. But if we were gonna do anything with that, they would have to be rerecorded and … Cos, I mean, it was very raw and very, sort of, “making it up on the spot” kind of deal. And so we’d have to revisit everything and then we’d put it together, I think. But that’s not really a plan. I’m just saying if it was … I don’t wanna get any ideas in anybody’s head. That would be the only way that it could be released, [and] I’m not saying that it’s going to.’

  As the next few years rolled by, Slash would embark on a solo career, bringing in Alter Bridge’s Myles Kennedy as frontman. Duff toured again with Loaded and Dave Kushner and Matt Sorum engaged in various side projects. By any reasonable estimation, Velvet Revolver appeared to be on ice – permanently. That is, until the band announced that they would be reforming for a special one-off appearance in January 2012. The singer? Scott Weiland. ‘“Love You Madly:” A Concert for John O’Brien’ took place at West Hollywood’s House of Blues, boasting an eclectic roster that included Maroon 5, Tom Morello, Stephen Stills, Sheryl Crow and Fishbone. While Maroon 5 were the only performers currently charting (their Mutt Lange-produced Hands All Over album had just spawned a huge international hit with ‘Moves Like Jagger’), it was clear that the evening belonged to Velvet Revolver. The group had announced that they would perform three songs and, beyond that, no one was prepared to predict their future. The mere sight of Velvet Revolver walking onto the stage, though, detonated a rousing hail of applause as the band took their positions, with Weiland bouncing at centre stage, cigarette and bullhorn in one hand, microphone in the other. Duff fired off the intro to ‘Sucker Train Blues’ and, just like that, four years disappeared. Weiland, looking like a young Howard Hughes with his retro leather jacket and slicked-back hair, gyrated and spun as Slash prowled the side of the stage, stepping forth to issue blistering leads before retreating into the corners during the verses. Each time the spotlight hit him, the audience roared with approval.