It’s a funny thing, this endless remastering of albums. Whilst the quest for sonic perfection is arguably laudable, there are far more cases where a remaster does little to enhance the legacy of a classic album (and indeed, in some cases actively detracts from it), rendering the whole enterprise a commercial rather than an artistic activity. Where remasters typically work is where technological limitations detracted from the original artistic vision of an album, whilst they fail when the only desire is to ramp up the volume and the bass for easier consumption on streaming services. In the case of ‘Appetite for Destruction’, an album boasting a production that was not only flawless for its time, but one that made little attempt to adhere to the fads of the period, it’s hard to see what benefit, if any, a remastering will do, and so the initial impulse to purchase resides in how much you care to own the assortment of additional tracks packaged with the release.
On top of that, you have a choice to make. Do you go for the 2 CD deluxe edition, the multi-disc super-deluxe (£160 at time of writing) or the eye-wateringly expensive ‘locked ‘n’ loaded edition which comes packaged in its own (faux) leather chest complete with just about every element for which you could hope (but, alas, no marbles). Let’s be honest: for the casual fan, £160 is just too much to consider and it is likely that most readers will opt for the handsomely packaged, and sensibly priced, 2 CD set, the second disc acting as a kind of ‘best of…’ the box. This is the set reviewed here and, should you wish further detail on the super-deluxe version, we recommend this excellent page over at superdeluxedition.com, as it pretty much covers everything you’ll need to know. Just be prepared to mortgage your house (and potentially lose a spouse) if you head down that particular avenue.
Well packaged, the two-CD edition is housed in a plastic sleeve bearing a metallicized version of the non-offensive album art, with the track listing on the back. The inner digi pack, however, is a fold-out version of Robert Williams’ censor-baiting artwork, showing that the band remain unrepentant after all these years. A sizable booklet is also included, offering up lyrics and numerous additional photographs (including several hilarious pictures of Axl in white leggings and sporting a red leather codpiece). The bonus pictures and liner notes are all helpful, but sadly no historical essay is included (for my money, Alan Niven would have been the perfect man for the job) – a missed opportunity given the wild stories and mythology that surround this album’s release. Nonetheless, it’s a good job that the label have done overall and the larger, premium sets, offer far more in the way of paraphernalia.
The first disc is given over entirely to the original album, which is how it should be. The fad for dropping bonus tracks into every spare bit of space is irritating in the extreme when all you want to do is put the CD in and enjoy the ride (and yes, pedants, I know what the ‘skip’ button is for – let’s just agree to disagree on that one). As far as remasters go, it is neither egregious nor revelatory to the extent that, if you’re considering a sonic upgrade, you’d probably be advised to hold on to your wallet. There is, perhaps, a touch more weight to the low end and a touch more snap in the treble, but nothing to write home about. This is, to be fair, a relief, as some things just should not be messed with, and ‘Appetite for destruction’, one of the most flawless hard rock records of all time, is one such record. There’s little mileage in reviewing the original album here – it has been subject to so much dissection over the years that I’d only be adding my voice to a babble that is unlikely to subside. For what it’s worth, I’d argue that this is one of the cases where the hype is true, and certainly, in some twenty-five years of listening to the album, the thrill has not subsided when the opening guitar line to ‘welcome to the jungle’ rings out. Still, if you’re looking at this album, the chances are you already know it and you’re probably more interested in the extras on offer.
Boasting seven unreleased tracks, plus a host of EP tracks and rarities, the 2 CD edition is far from meagre in its offerings. Included among the previously released material is the entirety of ‘Lies’ (bar the much-publicised exclusion of ‘one in a million’), clearly separated across the disc with the four tracks that comprised the live section giving way to the previously unreleased Sound City Sessions, thus keeping the bulk of the live, electric material together. It’s a good choice, as it provides a much more coherent flow across the disc as a whole, and it shows that thought went into the sequencing. A brief digression finds the previously unreleased ‘shadow of your love’ (from the album sessions) before three more live tracks (b sides to various singles) conclude the heavier material on offer. Closing out the disc are four acoustic tracks, three from ‘lies’, with the fourth a previously unreleased version of ‘move to the city’ from 1988. All of the material here was remastered, along with the original album, from the analogue tapes by Ted Jensen.
The internet has already blazed with opprobrium over the exclusion of ‘one in a million’, a song that courted controversy from the first moment it appeared. I can understand the desire to maintain a complete historical record of the album and the associated recordings, after all, if the band were happy to include it the first time round, shouldn’t it be made available so that posterity can see where their collective heads were at during that period? That said, the song was always Axl’s baby, with the rest of the band publicly distancing themselves from it over the years, and even Axl himself seemed to realise its flaws as time wore on. As such, it seems odd to get so heated about the exclusion of a track that the band themselves no longer want to represent them and, if you’re really that keen on it (let’s face it, it’s not a particularly good song even if we disregard the tasteless lyrics), it’s still out there on the mid-priced ‘Lies’ EP. Historical revisionism is always a tricky subject, but it seems that, in this case, the exclusion is far more about the band no longer feeling the song represents their output than political correctness dictating its removal. Nonetheless, I’m sure that, by now, there are whole forums dedicated to it.
The remainder of ‘Lies’ is present and correct, tastefully remastered, with tracks like ‘Reckless Life’ sounding as poisonous as ever and, with the benefit of hindsight, almost like an audition reel for Axl’s eventual absorption into AC/DC. Also found here is the faux-live ‘shadow of your love’, originally released as a b-side to the ‘It’s so easy’ single. An outtake from the same sessions at which the preceding tracks were recorded, it completes the set and it is arguable that the remastering job here is far more relevant than the main album, the tracks from ‘Lies’ sounding far better than I remember. However, it’s the unreleased Sound City sessions that really capture the attention. Offering up five tracks from that session (the complete session is available on the super-deluxe edition), we get version of ‘welcome to the jungle’ that shows how close to complete the songs already were a year prior to their recording, the pace a touch more plodding to the final version, but the whole band clearly firing on all cylinders. Also included are versions of ‘nighttrain’, ‘out ta get me’ ‘paradise city’ (strangely, the weakest track here with its excessive percussion) and ‘my Michelle’, all of which give a good indication of how driven Guns ‘n’ Roses were right from the start. Interestingly, the expanded sessions found on the super-deluxe edition, include a number of tracks that would eventually find their way to the ‘use your illusion’ sets, once again demonstrating just how far ahead of the curve the band were. These are fascinating tracks, well-recorded, and, for once, this is a second disc to which you’ll find yourself returning. Following on from the studio performance of ‘shadow of your love’ (from the AFD sessions), the remainder of the disc comprises further live tracks (all period b-sides), and the acoustic portion of ‘Lies’, with only an acoustic ‘move to the city’ appearing for the first time. It’s a worthy selection of extras, and, in many ways, it makes you wish that the super-deluxe was just a touch more affordable, for the material here is infinitely more worthy than the average rag-tag assortment of demos and offcuts that make up such collections.
It’s easy to be cynical when bands and labels reissue classic recordings because, all too often, the extras are so ill-thought-out and so barrel-scraping that you consign them to the shelf never to be heard again. There are exceptions to this rule and a good reissue, when done well, can add valuable context even to a well-worn album. This is one such case and there is no question that the 2-disc edition of AFD is exceptional value for money, the second disc a well-sequenced collection of extras that really brings the sessions around the album to life. Even for long-time fans of the band, this comes highly recommended, although the larger sets (with their much larger price tag) require considerable thought. 9
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