INDY REVIEWS
Score: 7.3 / 10 
Guns'n'Roses
'Take me down to the Paradise City where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.' Well, yes. Now, I'm (perhaps surprisingly to regular readers) no crass-voiced drug addict so maybe I'm missing what Axl and the boys are going for here, but I must confess to being lyrically disappointed with this effort. Because, y'know, paradise, people!
I don't want to be some kind of mind-controlling dictator, enforcing my belief system on others and to Hades with those who disagree. After all, I'm not Oliver Stone. But my vision of paradise includes such things as a lifetime supply of Mars Bars&trade, a room with a big-screen TV showing non-stop big-budget stupid action flicks and, say, my own personal rollercoaster. Or something else equivalently grand. Pretty girls wouldn't go astray, of course, but I would have suspected that they would be at the bare minimum of expectations in any male's version of paradise, let alone that of angry, drug-taking, groupie-deflowering, wild rock and roll musicians. And, to be frank, I'm completely carefree about what hues the lawns of paradise may take. I plan to have things on my mind other than the fundamentals of chlorophyll.
'Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.' Disappointing, Gunners. Disappointing. At the very least, you could have switched the nouns on us. Pretty grass and green girls may not be any more paradisian, but heck, I've always been of the opinion that quirkiness and weird lyrics for weird lyrics' sake are an acceptable substitute for genuine musical merit. It has, after all, worked well enough for They Might Be Giants.
Begone,
-- Back to all music
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