Guns N’ Roses: Every Studio Album Ranked from Worst to Best

Welcome to the jungle, we got (album ranking) fun and games.

The more you read about Guns N’ Roses’ antics from the late-80s and early-90s, you’d swear most of it was made up.

From recording literal orgasmic overdubs for “Rocket Queen” to punching out security guards to causing a riot that led to them being banned from St. Louis, the band’s reputation as hard-partying rock and roll delinquents precedes them. Can you truthfully define them any other way?

Slash has tried. The Guns N’ Roses guitarist positioned the group as the “antithesis” of the spandex-loving 80s glam metal image popularized by acts like Van Halen. With influences including Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones, the group’s music is funkier, sleazier, and nastier than their inclusion on classic rock playlists inclusion and radio airplay would have you believe.

I really mean it when I say nasty, too. The rampant misogyny, racism, and homophobia heard in their lyrics remain largely intact on physical and digital releases. Apologists, among them guitarist Duff McKagan, may brush them as “misunderstood,” but make no mistake: There’s enough anecdotal evidence to suggest the bad vibes embedded in their music aren’t an act.

Amid all this baggage, it’s a miracle that their music is still as influential as it is. The towering riffs, the high-register screeches, the anthemic choruses—everything that made the listening experience exhilarating in the first place hasn’t lost any of its power.

That high-wire balancing act of good (sometimes great) musicianship and dubious reputation made for a more intense and complicated discography ranking than I expected. In this post, I’ll present my findings and review the group’s controversial studio album catalog from worst to best.

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Let’s begin:

6. G N’ R Lies (1988)

I’ll just come right out and say it: this album grossed me out.

If I had to pick a single redeeming track, it’s probably “Patience,” but even then, I think the soap opera quality of it wears thin, especially when you hear it in concert with the entire second side of this record.

Consider the ghoulish chorus of “Used to Love Her:”

I used to love her, but I had to kill her
I used to love her, hm yeah, but I had to kill her
I had to put her six feet under
And I can still hear her complain

Or the ugly guts of “One in a Million,” which doesn’t even attempt to hide its xenophobic leanings:

Immigrants and f*****, they make no sense to me
They come to our country and think they'll do as they please
Like start some mini-Iran or spread some f****** disease
They talk so many goddamn ways, it's all Greek to me

Even if those shudder-inducing undertones weren’t there, I just don’t think the music is that interesting or exciting. Compared to Appetite for Destruction, this record is Guns N’ Roses at their blandest sonically, repulsive sociopolitical stances notwithstanding.

5. The Spaghetti Incident? (1993)

After the Use Your Illusion pairing, which I’ll get to shortly, the objective behind The Spaghetti Incident seemed to be to prove that the band could still rock your ears off. But could they actually? The honest answer is … kind of.

This covers record, encompassing influneces like the Sex Pistols, the Stooges, Nazareth, and others, is as straightforward as you can get. No frills, down-the-middle, riff-driven rock. But, though a few of the performances are inspired, like lead single “Since I Don’t Have You,” there’s nothing all that distinctive going on here either. It’s fine.

I do wish they’d gone without the untitled closing track, written by noted mass murderer Charles Manson. It doesn’t add anything to the band’s danger-centric ethos, nor does it work all that well as a publicity stunt. It’s a cheap tactic that’s shamelessly tacked onto the final product.

4. Use Your Illusion II (1991)

September 1991 was a legendary month of rock music fans. On top of blockbuster albums from Nirvana and Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guns N’ Roses did the unthinkable and dropped two double albums on the same day. That’s two-and-a-half hours of new material that, combined, sold over 1.3 million units in its first week alone. It’s the kind of release event that may never happen again.

Bolstered by its lead single’s inclusion in the Terminator 2: Judgement Day soundtrack, Use Your Illusion II performed better commercially than its counterpart. Interestingly, I think it’s the lesser of the two records, despite tracks like “Civil War” and “Estranged,” both of which still rip.

The main issue is there’s a LOT of filler. “Get in the Ring,” a weird tantrum of a song that calls out critical detractors by name, “Shotgun Blues,” “Breakdown,” and “So Fine” are examples of the middling efforts that weigh this LP down this LP down unnecessarily. Even their cover of Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” which got a lot of rock radio airplay when I was growing up, is a bit of a corporate rock snoozer.

Some of these songs are compelling, don’t get me wrong. But it’s sheer hubris to think that the Use Your Illusion couldn’t have been slimmed down into a more digestible, less meandering double album. Not two.

3. Use Your Illusion I (1991)

And now, the better half of the Use Your Illusion extended universe.

The approach is generally the same as the other record of the same namesake, but the execution is cleaner and more energetic across the board. “Right Next Door to Hell” is an absolute heater of an opening track, while “Back Off Bitch” is probably the closest they’ve ever come to recapturing the Appetite days sonically, with lyrics that address childhood trauma.

The ballads also feel less staid and languid than those on Use Your Illusion II. “Don’t Cry” and “November Rain,” with the latter holding the crown at one time as the most expensive music video ever made, are two examples of the band actually elevating their sound to a more operatic, art-rock place instead of reaching out and grabbing a fistful of air.

Even their version of “Live or Let Die” goes a lot harder than almost all of their covers to that point in time. If you’re going to start anywhere with these two double-LP beasts, let it be here.

Small version caveat: The 2022 remasters cleaned up the sound on some tracks considerably and added some much-needed depth to others. “November Rain,” in particular, hits you a lot more in the feels with the wider soundstage that brings in more of the orchestral flourishes.

2. Chinese Democracy (2008)

I have a confession to make: I almost talked myself into ranking this at No. 1.

Part of that overreaction has to do with the decade-plus of hype and rumors in the ramp-up to this release. A cavalcade of personnel changes, missed deadlines, and massive production costs delayed Chinese Democracy’s arrival, which I remember heavily influencing my friends' and co-workers' resolutely “meh” reaction. The consensus was that it was okay, nothing more or less.

However, if you strip away the baggage, I think that’s a little unkind to the songs themselves. The main reason to listen is Axl Rose—his vocal performance is consistently astonishing, most of all when he lets himself get to a place of deep emotional vulnerability. We can speculate for hours about who “Sorry,” a remorseful, Roger Waters-esque number, or the yearning “This I Love” is aimed at, but it doesn’t really matter. The execution rises above the lore.

The guitar work is also excellent throughout, played by a group that includes Buckethead and Nine Inch Nails album Robin Finck. More than any of their 90s material, the record’s highlights are among the best songs produced under the Guns N’ Roses banner. That’s much more than most people gave it credit for back in the day.

1. Appetite For Destruction (1987)

A little bit of a backstory to set the table.

Whenever I undertake a discography ranking listening project like this, I usually go through the studio albums chronologically, starting with the earliest. This time, I purposely left Appetite for Destruction for last. I made this decision for a couple of reasons: a) it’s the material I (and I’m sure most of you) am most familiar with, and b) I wanted the other Guns N’ Roses record to have their day in court, as it were, without my mind constantly running a comparison to this one.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. After hearing everything else in the band’s catalog and running through Appetite for Destruction from end to end for the first time in almost 15 years, it’s no contest. Not only is this their best album by a considerable margin, not only is it one of the top rock records of the 80s by a country mile, but it’s in the conversation for the best debut album of all time.

Casual fans will know the chart-toppers, including “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” “Paradise City,” and the most exhilaratingly menacing mission statement of its time, “Welcome to the Jungle.” But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Runaway rock and roll freight trains don’t get more propulsive than “It’s So Easy,” “Nightrain,” and “Mr. Brownstone.” There’s even more than a little punk rock energy on “Think About You.” For almost an hour, the group never lets you catch your breath.

That’s by design, I think. Stylistically, there’s not as much variance as there would later be on Illusion or Democracy. But, at that time, it’s clear they had little to no (ahem) appetite for that kind of artistic experimentation. Yes, this record is dark and sleazy, but it doesn’t feel cheap tactically, either. It’s a no-holds-barred, pedal-to-the-metal roller coaster of a record.

Either you’re down with that, or you’re not, but Guns N’ Roses clearly couldn’t care less one way or the other. Even if this is one of the most successful feel-bad albums ever made thematically, you’d be hard-pressed to name a rock record overflowing with as much head-spinning excitement.

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Which of these albums is your favorite? Is there another Gn’R record that should be ranked above Appetite? Sound off in the comments.