Guns N' Roses, Chinese Democracy

"Chinese Democracy" is the sixth Guns N' Roses LP. There is nothing inherently remarkable about this fact. What is remarkable is the fact that "Chinese Democracy" both exists and does not. Regarding the latter position, one can point out much seemingly stable evidence: "Chinese Democracy" has not been released, despite years of release dates eternally pushed forward past the vanishing point on the horizon of the future. Unlike most records who shamefully bow to the public pressure to exist, "Chinese Democracy" has failed to do so with resounding success in the near ten years that have elapsed since initial recording for the record began. No one, not even the sole man (née William Bailey) who has been present for the duration of the development of the record, can claim to have "heard" the record in the traditional mode of playing a record or compact disc, simply because it has yet to be completed. Yet, as one who takes the former position supporting the existance of "Chinese Democracy", I hold that the record provides us with much to listen to and much to read: likely more than all but a scant handful of popular recordings to this date.

In "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius", Jorge Luis Borges details the eclipsing of our own histories and conceptions of the world by those of an ancient secret society dedicated to the construction of Tlön, a fictional reality with its own languages, philosophies and metaphysics. One metaphysical construct of key importance to all scholars of Tlön is the hrönir. Borges describes hrönir thusly: "Two persons are looking for a pencil; the first person finds it, but says nothing; the second finds a second pencil, no less real, but more in keeping with his expectations" (Borges, 77). The discovery of the history of Tlön leads to the creation of hrönir (often made up of wholly Tlönian elements) in the real world; in time, these objects and their impact transform our world into Tlön.

"Chinese Democracy" does not exist, yet secondary objects and experiences so dominate the world that the record has phased itself into our reality purely on the merit of these hrönir. How else is one to explain the promotional T-shirts that refer to it, the riots that have erupted over the cancellation of concerts that are only adhering to the principle of non-materialisation espoused by the record they promote? I myself carried a mark on my hip for some months where I was struck by a roman candle at one such riot; that mark was far more real for me than any other album I might claim to "own" or to have "heard" (admittedly, I believe this document to be the first of one of the most commonplace secondary objects derived from albums to deal with "Chinese Democracy" specifically: a record review). Former members of Guns N' Roses, inspired by "Chinese Democracy"'s strict doctrine of invisibility, have formed their own rock band whose absence speaks louder than its presence; the band has not yet mastered the art of arrival via departure, however, and are miscrediting their admirable void to such commonplace occurances as drug addiction.

So, since "Chinese Democracy" has proven its impact upon our world ably at all sensory levels, one would hope that the album would be an unparalleled success, merging the classic Guns N' Roses sound with modern promise, providing a vital, fresh and essential experience. This is not the case. Like so many things, "Chinese Democracy" stinks of failed ambition, sounds like the very quiet whine of a traitor dying, looks like a half-squashed cockroach dragging its entrails across a kitchen floor, and is as charming to the touch as a used condom lying in a gutter. It is the one time music failed in the beautiful promise it made to each of us, in private, to never let us down. A tale told by an idiot, yes, but "Chinese Democracy" cannot even muster the strength to produce sound or fury. As is evidenced by its legacy of cheap merchandise and frustrated violence, much signifies the album, but "Chinese Democracy" itself is an empty placeholder, signifying nothing.

Borges, Jorge Luis. Collected Fictions. Penguin Books, Toronto: 1998.

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