I'd imagine Axl would have a hard time wiggling himself out of the deal. He already received a $1 million advance nearly nine years(!) ago on top of the production costs, so severing all possible ties to Universal would likely mean a long and arduous legal settlement. I'm not an expert, but if I were Universal, I'd also take into question how much potential revenue in album sales Axl would be taking out of the house by going independent. Depending how the record deal was made, there may be some back doors for the label for such a situation; remember that GNR was considered a very valuable property back when the deal was made (before AFD) and substantially revised (mid-92). Universal (or simply Geffen as it was at the time) would've been sure to hold on to their goose that laid them golden eggs.

In the current situation, Universal owns the publishing rights for the future album(s), so Axl couldn't get rid of them completely even if he'd succeed in getting the album off their hands. But I'd love it if Axl would go the Radiohead/Saul Williams route and offer the whole thing up for download.

In a hypothetical situation, Axl pays Universal $13 million and they call it even.

Axl has three albums worth of material; divide $13m with three, you'll get roughly $4,3m.

Axl releases all three albums for $5 download; he'll receive all the proceeds directly as the only costs would theoretically be maintaining the web servers.

Ignoring the server costs for a minute, all albums should be downloaded nearly 870,000 times. In other words, their combined sales would have to be little less than the US sales of Contraband (a little shy of three million units).

This might be the last road to China.

While the US tour was a moderate success (as madagas has pointed out in length), in essence the situation is no different from 2002. The band still fares considerably well in population centers and is still able to sell out Madison Square Garden without a hitch. However, once the tour hits the wilderness, so to speak, ticket sales wind down and rows of seats are left vacant. Another related matter is Angel Down, with its three exclusive Axl tracks. After an enthusiastic build-up by Bach, the beloved hyperactive homie, album sales have twindled and more recently, trickled down to a halt. Granted, record sales are dependant of several factors, but even when considering the era of digital downloads (counterbalanced by the fair reception of the CD leaks), one could say being Axl Rose is not what it used to be.

I wouldn't pin the blame on shoddy tour planning solely unto Merck. While he was obviously the one calling a good number of shots (as he was likely the most qualified person in Axl's inner circle to handle this), Merck was also dependant on Axl's commitment. In his own mind, Axl is still very much the rock star he was fifteen years ago. Even though he's had his share of subsequent life experiences, he still enjoys throwing bacchanalian orgies post-show and relishes in having the benefits of a star. He still exercises his prerogative to take the stage only after properly 'zoning' himself, with the correct assumption that his management will shield him from whatever consequences this behavior might have. And he still thinks the record company, along with the rest of the world, will anticipate the new album as much as they did back in 1991.

It gets difficult when leaving US soil. The European leg of the 2006 tour was comprised of major festival appearances and one-off appearances in various nation capitals (with the exception of the late summer UK minitour). Nothing wrong with that, as it is a popular and reasonable way to cycle the act through various local markets. A name band like GNR has the potential to do good business with such an arrangement, without oversaturating the country-specific demand by outstaying their welcome. Axl hits the stage at the peak of public interest, bailing out of the country before the reviews accusing him of rehash come off the printers. The bubble remains intact, with every further performance refilling its air supply.

In this light, I wouldn't be surprised if Merck would've been daunted to try and coax Axl into doing a theatre/club tour. VR does it all the time when touring the US; their tour management knows that even the combined legacies of GNR and STP, along with good media visibilty and two albums of original material, won't equal the yesteryear demand of the aforementioned bands. Try convincing Axl that past merits and a capable live band of unknowns might not be enough to recapture some of that old mass hysteria. Even with Slash (inarguably, the most well-known member aside Axl) back in the fold, it would be considered a reunion at best, with a new album serving as a Stones-ian excuse for touring, as the majority of the concert-goers would come about to glimpse some of that old magic again.

The only way to make GNR in any way a viable and respectable modern-day is for them to release an album and establish an identity of their own. In today's market, album sales will hardly be stellar (and certainly nowhere near the numbers AFD churned at the height of the analog age). However, if the music's as good as it seems, Axl still has a few good years of heavy touring available to him, and while never really reclaiming the throne of mainstream music, he may still atleast go out with his Guns blazing and leaving a legacy of little more than a man who could've been a contender.

Here's an interesting article on Iovine. I've included the parts that can be attributed to the GNR situatinon. The full article can be viewed here.

THE MUSIC INDUSTRY TITANS
Ears wide open
He interned with Lennon, got Dr. Dre on the air, was musical matchmaker for Gwen Stefani. Jimmy Iovine listens and imagines, then makes it happen.
By Robert Hilburn
Special to The Times

November 26, 2006

"WHEN I first went into the studio with John Lennon and Bruce Springsteen, I thought making records was going to be fun, like going to a Rolling Stones concert," says Jimmy Iovine, reflecting on his route to becoming a record industry tyco4on. "But fun had nothing to do with it. Fun wasn't even on the menu.

"Bruce would spend eight hours trying to write one line of the lyrics to 'Jungleland' and longer on the guitar part to 'Thunder Road.' He'd try it one way and then tell everybody 'again' and 'again' for days. I fell asleep for four hours one night and the first thing I heard after waking up was Bruce saying, 'Again.' "

[...]

"I also learned that the songs are everything. If the songs aren't there, you're dead. You must do whatever it takes to get them right '” as much time, as much pain."

Iovine brought one intangible with him to the music business: an instinct for hits, and his 35-by-30-foot exercise room is where he searches for them several mornings a week.

[...]

Last fall in the room, Iovine heard new tracks by Nelly Furtado, a young Canadian singer he inherited when Universal bought DreamWorks Records.

Iovine had tried to sign Furtado, a pop singer with teasingly seductive dance and hip-hop sensibilities, and he was fond of Furtado's 2000 debut album and, even more, a remix track she did with hip-hop producer Timbaland.

But Iovine felt Furtado's new music was too "mature" '” his polite word for uninspired '” and he made a mental note that morning: "Timbaland!"

Meeting with Furtado a few days later, Iovine advised the twentysomething singer to scrap the tracks she had done and go into the studio with Timbaland. Furtado jumped at the suggestion so fast it surprised Iovine, but artists do listen when you've got his track record.

In June, the Timbaland-produced album, "Loose," entered the U.S. pop charts at No. 1, thanks in part to a sassy single, "Promiscuous." Worldwide sales: more than 2.5 million.

By focusing on the music rather than chiefly on quarterly spreadsheets, Iovine fits into the grand, entrepreneurial tradition of post-World War II executives who built the modern record business '” people such as Ahmet Ertegun, Clive Davis, David Geffen, Mo Ostin and Iovine's mentor, Doug Morris, with whom he confers six to 10 times a day.

"I don't talk to my artists about record deals," Iovine says. "I talk to them about how we are going to make their records better. To do that, you've got to infiltrate the artist and get their trust and confidence so that you can help push them in directions they might not see or might not even want to go at first, and that can cause tension, but that's just part of the creative process.

"If you don't speak the truth in the studio, your relationship with the artist is finished. It's not enough to just tell them everything is great. The most important thing is to tell them when it's not great."

[...]

For Nicks, who was making a solo album after her success with Fleetwood Mac, Iovine did more than help shape the sound or reach outside for a hit song. He didn't know that much about Fleetwood Mac, so he listened to "Rumours" before he went into the studio with Nicks '” and he realized instantly the challenge in making a Nicks solo album.

"If you are going to make a Mick Jagger solo record, you've got to make sure people don't miss the Rolling Stones. With Fleetwood Mac, you had three voices, now you are only going to have one. With Fleetwood Mac, you had three writers, now you only have one. With Fleetwood Mac, you had the musical inventiveness of Lindsey Buckingham and the comfortable feel of that rhythm section."

Iovine's game plan to supply those missing elements offers a revealing glimpse of what he can bring to a project. Fortunately, Nicks had lots of songs, so material wasn't a problem. But there was a Petty song that Iovine thought would be perfect for Nicks, and he got them to agree to a duet on the song, "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around." He also teamed Don Henley with her on a Nicks song, "Leather and Lace."

To add some of the musical color of Buckingham and the rest of the band, he pulled in musicians he admired, including two he remembered from his days in the studio with Springsteen and Petty '” keyboardists Roy Bittan and Benmont Tench.

"Whenever I'd work on the sound mix on Tom or Bruce's records and find a spot in the record that needed a lift," Iovine recalls, "I would always find myself reaching for Roy or Benmont because they were always doing something interesting."

[...]

IT'S the day before Iovine is to head to London to meet with U2 and Stefani to hear new music, and he's on the elliptical trainer, listening to a new recording by Stefani.

As he pushes the pedals of the trainer, Iovine is asked about one of his big disappointments of recent years: the Hives.

Iovine goes into a long litany of the personal and professional roadblocks that can keep a band from reaching its potential on record. It feels like a filibuster until he cuts to the chase.

"They just didn't come up with the songs," he says bluntly of the last Hives album, which failed to live up to the enthusiasm the Swedish band had built on its indie releases. "They thought people were just responding to the attitude in their shows, and it was never just that. But I'm not giving up. I've already spoken to them, and they know what they need to do."