I must be bored: so…

Recently, in a moment of vino-fuelled impulse shopping I ordered “Slippery When Wet”(2nd hand on CD) by Bon Jovi. A much liked album from my “yoof”.

Also, an album I had not owned since losing my cassette – yes CASSETTE version.

So I thought I’d pit it against another old favourite in a DRIVE TIME CHALLENGE.

The opponent: another album of its time: “Appetite For Destruction” by Guns N  Roses.

Here are the results of my journey home on gloomy, foggy, icy, shitty winter nights, revisiting the late 80’s era of my not mis-spent enough youth:

Slippery When Wet:

Track 1: Let It Rock:

Great start – nice echoey opening organ solo with segue into rocky guitary stuff.

Good so far… Ok…Not quite as good as I remember, but good. A bit ploddy? I dunno.

Track 2. You Give Love A Bad Name

Really not bad. But overplayed over the years. Has its moments. But the shine is gone.

Track 3. Livin’ On A Prayer.

If track 2 has been overplayed, this dead horse has had the flesh whipped from its bones.

Seemed Great at the time. But some really quite squirmy lyrics.

Track 4. Social Disease.

Dog shit. Childish. Steel Panthers do it better.

Track 5. Wanted Dead Or Alive.

Really a bit of a triumph considering the dog egg sat next door at number four. Kind of a classic. In a way. Sort of. I do like this one.

Track 6. Raise Your Hands.

Again. Should be great. However, it just seems a bit rock cliche. And if I raise my hands right now, the vehicle will not be under control. So I won’t. Thanks. You poodle haired git.

Track 7. Without Love

One for the ladies. Really. It’s kitten weak. A little bit of sick jumped up whilst this was on. Uncomfortable.

Track 8. I’d Die For You.

Found myself shouting “go on then, die you cunt” at one point in this half-hearted fetid shag-wanking disaster of a boil on the arse-crease of this album.

Track 9. Never Say Goodbye.

Figured I’d love this song… if I had tits, and a vagina. And a lobotomy.

Maybe suitable at the final year prom for a school for the intelligence-challenged and emotionally underdeveloped.

I hoped a cute-looking animal would dash out in front of the car at this point, so that I might unemotionally mow it down.

Track 10. Wild In The Streets.

Total tramp’s cock-flannel  this. Suitable for teenage boys with a shoe size in a neck-and- neck race with their IQ.

You can practically hear the fart, and the turd plop heavily into the water before the flush.

Unforgivable. Lyrically, this makes me want to write a letter of apology on behalf of the band to anyone unfortunate to have this aural excrement assault their senses.

Appetite For Destruction:

Track 1. Welcome To The Jungle.

Overplayed. Yet still gave me goosebumps. Raw. Brilliant.

Track 2. It’s So Easy.

Superb gave me the opportunity to shout “fuck off!” (along with the song, rather than at it) about half way through. Once more proving swearing is both big and clever.

Track 3. Night train .

Powerful. Silly lyrics. Delivered with a lot of conviction. Singalong stuff.

Track 4. Out Ta get me.

Angry. Brilliant guitar drive. More swearing. Still big. Still clever. Tick.

Track 5. Mr Brownstone.

Possibly the best song ever recorded regarding heroin abuse. Which is not big. Or clever. Still. Great.

Track 6. Paradise City.

Right up there with the toppermost knuckle-head rock songs ever overplayed.

And still genius. Bonus points for best use of a whistle in a rock song.

Track 7. My Michelle.

Sinister. Great delivery. Perfect.

Track 8. Think About You.

Weak point on the album. Still, nothing that makes me want to shout “cunt” at the stereo, or mow down Bambi. Take note Mr. Bongiovi.

Track 9. Sweet Child Of Mine.

To release such a recognisable classic on your debut album – wow. I will buy a hat, so that I may take it off to them. Even if it has been a bit “kidnapped” since.

Track 10. You’re Crazy.

Nice thrashy piece. It’s still working for me.

Track 11. Anything Goes.

Not the standout track here. Still, one of the best opening lines ever. This is how to do puerile rock sex smut.

Track 12. Rocket Queen.

Not a track I’d pick out. But not a track I’d skip either. Rounds off the album without any smushy shit. Leaves you feeling like you’ve just finished something you’ll remember for a long time.

Conclusion:

If you want to wonder what the fuck you were thinking at the time, or alternatively, you’re a bit of a rock mum who wants to go all soggy in your Bridget-Jones knickers,  go for the Bon Jovi album. If you want to confirm your original good taste in music in picking out a classic album at the time it came out, then it’s Appetite For Destruction.

Fight outcome: Mr. J Bongiovi gets his arse well and truly kicked by a man with weak bandaged ankles, and a weak, bandaged head, and then gets mercilessly teabagged by a top hat that smokes 200 fags a day, has a pacemaker fitted due to years of drug abuse, and plays the guitar with Satan’s seal of approval.