Live At The Point Depot, Dublin

If you ever wondered how Slash’s legendary guitar solos would go down without the requisite fog of cigarette smoke in these post-ban environs, the short answer tonight is; they don’t. Shrugging off the rules with enviable elan, the ex-Guns’n’Roses guitarist is tonight doing what he does best – flouting convention and delivering the type of riffs for which big hair and a smattering of menacing looking tattoos are almost required.

With his total magnetism, Slash could well have made a great frontman, yet his majesty lies in being the wind beneath his respective singers’ wings.

Tonight’s show, in a turn that surprises pretty much everyone, belongs to VR frontman Scott Weiland. Having shrugged off the post-grunge posturing of his (largely forgettable) Stone Temple Pilots days, Weiland’s performances have become streamlined, focused and ferociously intense. Whether a well-documented heroin addiction or stint in jail is to blame for this change, tonight Weiland is nothing short of a one-man powerhouse of pent-up rage.

“Do you motherfuckers feel alive?” he screams at us, like a man who might know more than most.

Tonight he is cock (rocker) of the walk, making full use of the Point stage along with bassist Duff McKagan, and generally preening, gyrating and writhing like some kind of sex snake. This firecracker performance adds weight to Velvet Revolver’s arsenal of beefed-up rock tunes – ‘Illegal I’ comes with a tantalising side of ass-shake, while ‘Superman’ and ‘Big Machine’ sound reassuringly meaty.

Predictably, the tracks pilfered from the supergroup’s erstwhile outfits rouses much excited cheering. STP’s ‘Sex Type Thing’ and G’n’R’s ‘Used To Love Her’ and ‘It’s So Easy’ sound positively sublime, while Weiland manages to inject (as it were) more vitriol into ‘Mr.Brownstone’ than even Axl Rose could ever muster.

It was the night where we were reminded, for the first time in years, of the sheer possibility, the alchemy, that a Gibson Les Paul could provoke. Needless to say, it was kind of emotional. Or maybe the smoke just got in my eyes.

Photo by Cathal Dawson