He sounded enthusiastic about the sessions and said, “It was a lot of fun.” When I asked if they did any recording, though, he answered, “Nah, that’s getting to first base. We’re sort of still in the dugout chewing gum.” As for the general state of the two former ‘Mats mates relationship, he said, “We’re good friends, and I’m sure we’re going to work together again.”
No word on whether or not Tommy’s made it to first with Paul since then. Let’s hope they go all the way!
“Then when he called us The Pigeons Of Shit Metal, Tommy Stinson, their bass player took his bass off and goes: ‘Fuck you, that’s it’. And then he threw his bass down. But then Axl picked up his bass and fucking threw it at him dude. It was a fucking circus up there.
“By the end of the night that guy [Rose] had caused a giant uproar,” said Hughes. “It was like a total mutiny on the part of his band and everyone. I could hear screaming in the dressing room, ‘Those are our friends and you’ve insulted our friends’. Then at 4am in the morning our tour manager gets a phone call which essentially amounted to: ‘Axl’s thought about it, he thought you guys were a band getting shoved on his tour from the label. He’s really sorry and you’re more than welcome to finish the tour’.
“When my manager told me that, I just said, ‘You can tell that motherfucker to go and fuck himself because I will never go through that again’.”
This is great. There’s really only one way to solve this feud: bare-knuckles fisticuffs between Axl and the Devil. I would happily fork over the $50 pay-per-view to see Axl gets his ass whooped by a dude with a handlebar mustache.
For diehard Replacements fans, voyeurism can be the motive for seeing Tommy Stinson on tour for his first solo release, Village Gorilla Head. How has the elfin bass player fared? What’s up with becoming the bassist for Guns ‘n Roses? Has Tommy gone metal? Is he a lost soul, a rock and roll ghost?
Far from it—striding through Brooklyn’s Southpaw he’s wiry and alert, a puckish survivor of 2 1/2 decades in rock, sporting tight black jeans and a cheekily anachronistic punk hairdo. Almost as boyish looking as when he started at age 13, 38-year-old Stinson took the stage and threw himself into an impassioned, no-nonsense performance that converted a subdued crowd into a throng of noisy believers. If there were any doubts about his abilities (and really, doubts were why it was so interesting to be there), Tommy banished them with his authoritative guitar playing, mature songwriting and striking, husky voice. From the beautiful ballad “Light of Day” to the clever wordplay in the Dylanesque “Hey You,” it was clear that Tommy has moved out of the sidekick role forever.