Greg and I sprung for a babysitter last week (my sister charges Starbucks love) and assumed the rocker position: we saw Alice in Chains/Velvet Revolver. Now I had my doubts; I mean, the dude from Chains died for pete's sake, so just how good could it be?
Well, take it from this grungy girl: it was amazing. My inner rock-girl rejoiced.
My headbanger brethren were swaying around me, even moshing a bit. The couple across the way lit up a pipe, um, with non-tobacco, in broad daylight which prompted the mother in front of us to admonish her teenage sons to hold their breath. All night.
Scott Weiland of STP and now VR was a kick to watch; he was dramatic and a bit loopy. (I am choosing to believe that he had sucked down a slushy strawberry margarita before the show, like me. Say 'no' to drugs Scott. Just say 'no'!) VR played their songs, Guns 'N Roses tunes and some STP for good measure - a composite of their careers. We got a 3 for 1 deal.
(And yes Stephanie, Slash still wears that hat and plays the dickens out of the guitar.)
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