Slash's Snakepit
It's Five o' Clock Somewhere (1995)

Somewhere it might be five in the afternoon, replied a bartender to Slash who was ordering a whisky with embarrassment at five in the morning. And never was a more fitting title for this album. “It’s Five o’ Clock…” was not a sensational success, unlike those of the band from whose ashes it was born. Moreover, it wouldn't have even deserved it. This album tells the story of Slash the musician, his blues inclinations, his passion for hard rock done in a certain way. But it never had the ambition to emulate any masterpiece of Guns‘n’Roses. Taking a look at the line-up, to be fair, one might assert the exact opposite: “The Snakepit” here was composed of Guns for (almost) four-fifths of the band (and I say almost because Duff McKagan signs only some pieces on the CD). The compositions of “It's Five o'clock...” are, however, constructed using decidedly personal style and ideas. As mentioned, you can also hear the blues.

In “Neither Can I”, chosen not by chance as the opening track, and at times even in the semi-ballad “Beggars & Hangers-on”: a track in which especially the amazing voice of Eric Dover stands out for intensity and inspiration. You listen to it and you feel a sharp smell of alcohol and cigarettes. Recruited as a simple "clone" of Axl Rose, he delivers an impassioned and captivating performance like none I have heard again. A gritty voice, biting in the more rocking dynamics, with a very personal timbre (cfr. your singing teacher: "smoking ruins the voice"), never merely aggressive or elevated to excessive pitches, warm and engaging in the melodic digressions of the Guns' mulatto. Eric instead flames on “What Do You Want To Be” (a track that among other things plays on a not bad riff entanglement), on the verses of “Good To Be Alive” and in the ending of “Be The Ball”. Very catchy, and enriched by the skill of bassist Mike Inez, also “Monkey Chow”, a track credited to Gilby Clarke alone. Since it is a work "made in nineties", we are allowed to enjoy listening to long solos, almost all fitting, although never oriented towards excessive pursuit of technical preciousness.

A bit underwhelming perhaps are some episodes of dubious stylistic caliber like “Lower” and especially “Doin’ Fine”, a wartime leftover of the worst glam of the eighties (some things were nice as long as they lasted, why insist?). Despite the (obvious) disappointment of many loyal fans who hoped, by purchasing “It’s Five o’ Clock…”, to hear something as similar as possible to Guns‘n’Roses, one cannot speak of a Slash poor in ideas (and talents): it is true, the Axl Rose pandering is missing. For example, among the notes of this album there is no trace of a “Don’t Cry”. But can we really condemn him for this?