To me, the twining of this thread is a perfectly logical one, as by discussing the amount of individual songs, we are in effect debating on whether Universal could get their $13 million back with more than one album. And that takes us back to the source.

Ou contrare, mon frere. Axl's the one who's said to have worked in the studio in spurts, but in between '98-00 for instance, they always had a full band in the house ('01 lineup sans Bucket & Brain, with Josh Freese), constantly recording. Axl was obviously pleased with the song structures they'd assembled with Sean Beavan (from numerous odd bars and jams), but the reception of OMG was likely what encouraged him to take a step back from the FX-heavy, grungy sound Beavan had brought to the table. That's when he started to spent time with both Bucket and Roy Thomas Baker, revising the Beavan tracks into more classic rock with Bucket serving as the all-purpose Slash surrogate - i.e. contributing all those epic guitar solos which are generally regarded as an intergral part of the vintage GNR sound as Axl's ever-recognizable vocals.

I believe this overhaul was the reason for Axl maintaining in his '99 interview that Robin's replacement is not really necessary for the time being. Once he got Bucket into the studio, he must've been like a kid in a candy store.

"Loder: How much stuff have you got for this new album? You've been working on this for a long time. Is there just tons of material?

Rose: We've been working on, I don't know, 70 songs. [...] The record will be about, anywhere from 16 to 18 songs, but we recorded at least two albums' worth of material that is solidly recorded. But we are working on a lot more songs than that at the same time... in that way, what we're doing is exploring so, you know, you get a good idea, you save it, and then maybe you come back to it later, or maybe you get a good idea and you go, "That's really cool, but that's not what we're looking for. Okay, let's try something new." You know, basically taking the advance money for the record and actually spending it on the record." - Axl, 99

Obviously, this comment is partially obsolete, as the Beavan was planned to consist of 16-18 songs. Also, there is enough material in the vault from the Axl/Robin/Paul Tobias/Tommy/Josh Freese/Dizzy lineup to span over two separate albums. Even if they'd never created a new song since then, that still would make it more than one album, or mere 13 tracks.

Which list are you talking about? On the setlist, your logic is correct. I'd say the RIR3 versions of The Blues, Maddy and CD still carry within them Sean Beavan's imprint; they're very bare and stripped-down, relying heavily on pure emotion. His work on the ballads in Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animals is quite similar, actually. I wouldn't dare to coin Beavan on the basis of this assumption, but he quite often seems to push the bands (and particularly the vocalists) 'rage' further in faster songs, turning the soundscape into a grinding wheel, while on the slower, softer songs, he does the polar opposite, stripping down the unnecessary layers, leaving the players (and particularly the vocalist) almost stark-naked, so to speak.   

'02 versions have more RTB in them, as The Blues in particular was growing a bit too mushy for many people (myself included). The leaks and latest boots are Axl's, which unfortunately doesn't make me feel all that comfortable with the fact that he's been the main producer for six years. I actually have a hard time trying to sit through the studio version of The Blues, when I just keep remembering the '01 version. But Axl makes music on his own terms (as if there were still doubts about this), and there's really no point in playing an older version if on the studio the song, whenever released, already sounds completely revamped.

I do admit that many songs have been long in the game (Prostitute has been regularly mentioned between '98 and '06!). But what does it tell you, exactly? If the band had two albums worth of material (which could considered if not finished then atleast cohesive as individual songs), while another 30+ songs were still in the process of being hammered into shape, they'd first of all have two lists. The first list consists of the songs that receive most of their time. Various takes of different instrumentals parts are recorded, tried and compared. Lyrics are written, vocals are recorded. Rough mixes are made. Axl keeps looking for the ideal combinations, starting from very broad strokes and slowly spiralling in to what he thinks is the best of what the song could be. Basing on Axl's comments in both '99 and '06, I'd say the first list, 'the A-list', currently contains those 32 songs.

"I don't want to be in a situation again where I have to depend on other people and have [to] start all over. So we have material that we think is too advanced for old Guns fans to hear right now and they would completely hate, because we were exploring the use of computers [along with] everybody really playing their ass off and combining that, but trying to push the envelope a bit. [...] I wouldn't say it's like, you know, that we recorded a double album, or that we have all of our scraps to be the second one. There is a distinct difference in sound. The second leans probably a little more to aggressive electronica with full guitars, where the first one is definitely more guitar-based." - Axl, 99

As Axl was wisened up by the departures of Slash and Robin, there is likely a terrifying pile of various guitar parts by Bucket in the vault. All of which, mind you, could be implemented to future songs. Therefore, there's almost certainly enough material to get started with the additional songs, as I'd imagine would be done whenever they'd actually get around to releasing CD itself. I read Axl's comment on 32 songs in the sense that they have two albums worth of "solidly recorded" material (again), which in my book translates as the whole nine yards - far enough in the making to justify various rough mixes.

And yeah, he addressed the very issues James' mentioning in Leeds '02.

"There's been some concern. That if we play five or six new songs, then there can't that many more on the album. Au contraire, mon frère. We're just playing the songs we're not considering putting out as singles or anything. So, you'll get 18 songs, and about 10 extra tracks. And when that, when the record company feels that has run its course, then you'll get it all over again. By that time, I should be done with the third album. So we'll see if all goes well boys and girls!" - Axl

That's a total of 28 songs, with 18 on the album, as was planned as early as in '99. Again, that's also a number you might describe as "two albums worth of material".

The pattern that seems to emerge here is one where two major batches of songs were created when Sean Beavan and Paul Tobias were still well in the fold, before Bucket and Brain had showed up. There were these initial songs, constantly around 30 of them, out of which Axl decided he'd compile atleast CD itself. While the song structures have been more or less the same while producers and players have kept shifting, Axl's idea of what CD consists of was significantly altered when, in between '02 and '06, he narrowed the amount of tracks from (16-)18 to 13.

Now, whether or not one wants to take Baz's rambling about a trilogy seriously, this assumption actually supports such an idea. If the majority of the A-list existed as early as '99, Axl's had the time to figure out how he'd like to connect various songs. He might've had broad ideas on how the approach the B-list, and might've done some work on it simply to get a feel to the material. If one is to say The General is on the "third album", to me that translates as a pre-written piece to otherwise currently aloof material. By this I mean that The General would be considered a cornerstone to what they'd go after when focusing more intently on the B-list. If one plans to do three interconnected albums, it actually makes sense to get the opener completely over and done, have more than half of the second one laid down, and keep the third open, while maintaining a clear goal or direction towards which the whole is moving.

Come to think of it, Axl's been mentioned to have spent a lot of time reading literature as it apparently helps his writing. One could raise the possibility that he'd written what one might call a storyline for music that'd pass through several albums, and that he's been laboring over expressing various moments ('scenes') through both the lyrics and the music, as they should obviously work in unison and evoke certain emotions/associations. At the same time, he'd have to keep in mind what would be a good direction for GNR from a financial point of view, so he'd have keep balancing in between these two aspects of the production. In that sense, late-night jamming and freestyling of the players might actually be a good idea - provided Axl would give them guidelines of what events, feelings or thoughts he'd like the music to express. Given his history in Sedona with Yoda, he might be foolhardy enough to try and create the basis of the songs by attempting to tap into the subconciousness of the musicians.

Crikey. Soon I'll talking about three unreleased albums through the basics of Aristotle's Poetics. I'm getting way ahead of myself, so I'll stop!

All n' all: I don't think Axl has a shortage of available songs (or song material), or lyrics for that matter. His main problem appears to be figuring out the overall sound of CD, which would in varying degrees also affect any subsequent album, should there be a connection between them.

Concert promoters are the ones gathering profit for the ticket sales. Artists are usually paid a fixed sum of money for performing and the promoters/venues then hope the net profit will be positive. No label involved - unless they pay for arranging the gig or sponsor it some way. Merchandise is generally funded and sold by the bands, and its often their best bet to get some money on the eve of the gig. GNR merch is controlled by Axl and supplied a company called Bravado, I believe. Again, no label involved, unless they specifically want to pay for it.

Universal does own the publishing rights to whatever songs CD will enclose, as they got their hands on the rights during their buyout of Sanctuary Group (Axl sold his rights, 1/3 of '86-'93 back catalogue and 100% of CD, to Sanctuary Publishing in early '05). That's Uni's best bet of making additional revenue of CD, which translates into CD tracks featured in various films, commercials, games, what-have-you.

I'd love Axl to take the Radiohead route, but I fear there are various legal wranglings involved, which would make a simple refund a tricky option. Remember that there is likely more than one album recorded with the $13M of Uni money (+ additional funding by Axl & co). Three albums with full publishing rights isn't that bad with a GNR brand slapped on the top. Therefore I believe it's not simply because Uni wouldn't make their money back; it's something else, something we don't know about.

Too awesome.

I saw Jeordie (Twiggy) with NIN last year, he wasn't half bad. I had more prejudice on Aaron North, as he'd replaced the lead guitarist of the band. Then again, I opted against seeing Manson a few days before Christmas, partially because I was seriously underwhelmed with his post-Twiggy albums. Never cared for Tim Skold, nor the music he wrote.

When considering the return of Twiggy against the overall disappointing sales of Eat Me Drink Me, Manson seems to be coming to terms with the fact that musically, his best times were in '96-'00. While he's naturally not the shocker he once was anymore, but I would like to see a new album coming out of this collaboration. Anything with Twiggy is better than marketing an album with Lolita-references. That joke's getting old.

The Vanishing (Spoorloos, 1988)

What if your loved one vanished without a trace one day on a roadside stop to the service station? You'd look out for him/her for a while, start worrying, address people. Night would fall, you'd be torn, akin to go to the police. To tell them what? The departee's description? The last you were together? What were the circumstances? Did you fight? There are no leads, and so, there you are, trapped in the middle of an unknown country, slowly realizing you may never see this person again. Time would pass, you'd go back home and meet someone else, go on into another love. But the uncertainty never lets go. What happened there on that service station, on the day that changed the course of your life? And how far would you go if someone'd finally contact you and promise to give you answers?

This is the basic idea of George Sluizer's 1988 Dutch-Franco film The Vanishing. Relying on the idea of predestination, by which the fate of the universe has been already decided throughout space and time, the film asks us; did we ever have a choice? Sometimes terrible things seem to happen for no other reason than fate, luck of the draw. Therefore, if there's no way to prevent the unavoidable, the only sound resolution is to seek solace through knowledge. But some things should remain buried...

The Vanishing is a slender yet altogether haunting battle of minds between Rex (Gene Bervoets), a young Dutchman obsessed in tracking down her long-lost girlfriend Saskia (the lovely Johanna ter Steege), and Raymond (Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu), a seemingly respectable French familyman who knows more about the fateful day at the service station then he'd like to let out. Sluizer circles around his lead characters for a good while before allowing them to physically meet, interlapping various time levels of their recent history with enviable ease. This way, we are allowed to get under the skin with both Raymond and Rex, to see what makes them tick well before they meet, spiralling towards each other through the memory of the waif-like Saskia.

Practically in total devoid of the trappings of the American thriller format, The Vanishing relies on psychological terror instead of superficial muggings, chases and hideaways. Instead of graphical violence, we are presented with a horrific everyday scenario, one that all of us can relate to and may even have experienced to some degree. This is what makes the film so haunting; one can feel for Rex's despair and hopelessness. Sluizer refuses the audience any easy outcome, allowing Rex to succumb into his mania to find Saskia, following his predestined journey all the way to the point where answers do lie. One question remains; is Rex able to get on with his life after all's been said and done?

The Vanishing went out to become an international success and late-career breakthrough for the 56-year old Sluizer. Riding high on the success of his masterpiece, Sluizer would further portray the power of obsession in the regrettably little-seen European co-production Utz, based on the Bruce Chatwin novel on a Czechoslovakian man with a penchant for porcelain, which ends up dictating his life in the eastern bloc. His Hollywood debut, Dark Blood, would halt principal photography eleven days shy of completion due to the tragic death of its rising star, River Pheonix. Sluizer, understandably worn by the more recent setbacks, decided to play his trump card.

An all-American remake of The Vanishing was released in 1993, sporting noteworthy leads such as Kiefer Sutherland and Jeff Bridges. However, by giving too much into tinseltown protocols, Sluizer had effectively robbed his reimagining whatever power the original film held. By no surprise then, the remake literally vanished from the cineplexes while Sluizer followed the dusty road back to Europe, where he never managed to replicate the success of the original film.

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Further reading: A spoiler-ridden essay comparing the Hollywood remakes of The Vanishing and Nightwatch (a highly recommended Danish film) to their European counterparts.