On a Saturday in May, 2005, my wife and I went to the Jones Beach Theatre to see Velvet Revolver. Part Guns N Roses, part Stone Temple Pilots, this band kicked ass. The late Scott Weiland was a undeniably a rock star, and when at one point during a song he went into the audience with his megaphone, I remember thinking that we were watching something special. Some years later, I saw Scott Weiland perform a solo show at Irving Plaza where he left the stage while singing and climbed up to the left above the club audience where he was obviously not meant to roam; you could feel the sense that anything might happen tonight as rock and roll danger mixed with the possibility of unexpected unscripted magic that the great artists can produce might be imminent. When you see the real thing, the undeniable living spirit of rock and roll in the flesh, it is an adrenaline rush. Velvet Revolver was an uncontainable force of nature and Weiland was a front man for the ages.

Slither

Rock on!

GQ