Double Talkin' Jive: True Rock 'N' Roll Stories From the Drummer of Guns N' Roses, the Cult, and Velvet Revolver by Matt Sorum & Leif Eriksson & Martin Svensson

Author:Matt Sorum & Leif Eriksson & Martin Svensson [Sorum, Matt & Eriksson, Leif & Svensson, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, music, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Genres & Styles, Rock
ISBN: 9781644282212
Google: aSsszgEACAAJ
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2022-03-08T23:35:43.068442+00:00

32

Riverport Riot

Axl starts a riot, and we escape in a van.

On the evening of June 2, we arrived at the Riverport Amphitheatre in Maryland Heights, outside of St. Louis, Missouri. We had landed at about four in the morning and spent the whole day sleeping and hanging around the hotel. Since Izzy was driving everywhere in his bus, he turned up at some point during the afternoon.

We were late arriving at the arena, which had officially opened only a few weeks earlier. Still, the organizer who came out to meet us was enthusiastic and said, “This is gonna be great!” He would live to regret those words.

Two days earlier, we had played in Birmingham, Alabama, and partway through the show, Axl had suddenly left the stage without warning. We played some kind of blues segment to fill the time, and Slash had to play a solo that went on and on while we waited for Axl to return. Duff and I kept exchanging increasingly anxious glances, wondering, What the hell’s going on? Eventually Axl reappeared, but I could see from his face that he was annoyed about something.

The memory of that left a tiny nugget of anxiety as we headed out onstage in St. Louis that evening. Twenty thousand people were in the audience, and at first, the atmosphere both on- and offstage felt great. But an hour or so into the gig, Axl disappeared backstage. Here we go again, I thought. I was ready for another endless solo from Slash, but Axl reemerged as quickly as he had disappeared, now dressed in his black feather boa jacket. We started playing “Rocket Queen,” and Axl sounded fantastic, but he also seemed to be increasingly distracted by something happening in front of the stage. Before long, he yelled, “Security, come on!” and pointed to someone.

It was clear he didn’t like the way the crowd was being handled. Next thing I knew, he had thrown himself out among the fans, aiming for one guy in particular. As far as I could see, they were both going at it with clenched fists, and black feathers from Axl’s jacket were swirling through the air.

I remember that my jaw dropped as I tried to keep up the beat. Axl managed to drag himself back up onstage, where he grabbed the mic and yelled, “Well, thanks for the lame-ass security! I’m going home!”

With that, he threw the mic to the floor, causing the speakers to crackle, and then stormed off. I stopped playing and glanced at Slash, Duff, Dizzy, and Izzy; I realized that none of them were going to do anything about the situation, so I got up and followed Axl, turning quickly to look at the crowd. It was obvious that they weren’t happy we had stopped the show—they were booing and shouting all kinds of stuff.

Since I thought Axl and I got along pretty well, and since I thought I knew how to talk to him, I went over to his dressing room.

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