Back on 24 January I go to the Guns n’ Roses show here in Hamilton. The venue is conveniently located right down the street. It is a rainy Sunday night. I walk. The show is kind of fun but kind of depressing. I am not sure what proportion of this depressed response can be chalked up to the advanced age of the band, the advanced age of the crowd, and the advanced age of me. There is something absurd and vaguely off-putting about the way Axl Rose sprints offstage during every non-vocal part of every song, as if he figures why bother wasting his time being in front of people if sound isn’t coming out of his mouth. There is also something vaguely off-putting about the way his face looks like it is melting off his skull.