In a 2006 pre-release review of Chinese Democracy for the April Fool’s edition of Spin, Chuck Klosterman wrote that in order for the album to succeed, Chinese Democracy would have to be the greatest rock album of all time.

It’s not. Needless to say, that’s kind of disappointing. Instead of the huge spectacle that the rock community had been counting on for more than a decade, the release of Chinese Democracy left barely a fizzle, creating a feeling as empty as the music inside.

Admittedly, these words may be the product of bitterness, but the feeling is warranted. After 15 years and an estimated $13 million or more was dropped into the production of the album (according to The New York Times), expectations were high, and unfortunately, these expectations make Chinese Democracy feel like a kidney-punch in the dark, with Axl Rose taunting you as you hit the floor.

Given the departure of virtually every original member of Guns N’ Roses, and the inclusion of everyone from bucket-capped guitarists and The Replacements’ Tommy Stinson, it’s actually rather surprising the Guns N’ Roses who appear on this latest release don’t stray too far from the incarnation that sold out arenas while the majority of the people reading this were in grade school.

Unfortunately for fans, that’s not necessarily a good thing.

While Guns N’ Roses, like everyone else associated with the heavy metal arena scene of the ’80s, could in no way ever claim modesty with their music, Chinese Democracy is self-absorbed to the point of parody. In fact, given Rose’s self-referential in the album’s title track, Axl declares “All I’ve got is precious time,” which seems to acknowledge the album’s almost-comical history. It feels as if Rose is pulling an elaborate prank on the listener. If this is true, then Rose and crew might have created the greatest work of art in music history, and honestly, the rest of this review can be ignored.

However, since Rose’s infamous antics tend to be far less thought-out, what we’re left with is an overly produced, self-indulgent, soulless record that often borders on the confusing and absurd. It’s given itself way to parody, with even Dr. Pepper attaching its name to the infamous history of the album in order to score a quick buck.

Given Rose’s penchant for perfectionism, it’s a wonder how any of the tracks actually made it on the album. Every track is a multi-layered experiment with excess: Flourishes of electronica, hip-hop beats and string sections somehow find their way into places where they have no reason to exist and rob the tracks of any power they could have had.

While these adornments are most definitely ill-advised, they help paint a picture of an artist struggling with a creative process he doesn’t even understand, and the years have definitely taken their toll. There are even hints that Rose spent so much time working on Chinese Democracy that he might have recycled clips from previous Guns N’ Roses albums; the track “Madagascar” features the same snippet from the film Cool Hand Luke that appeared on 1991’s Use Your Illusion II. Or, possibly, maybe he just didn’t care?

Despite all of the negativity spelled out above, Chinese Democracy is still an interesting album, bordering on the legendary.

Defining it as simply “good” or “not good” might, in the end, be impossible. After all, what do you compare it to? Do you simply stack it up against the other Guns N’ Roses releases and ignore the cultural weight it now carries, not only as the last release of the hair metal subculture, but possibly the last release from a generation? Do you just rank it is a popular culture icon, and ignore the rather lackluster musical performance?

Maybe this ambiguity is what Rose was aiming for all along. Chinese Democracy might not be about the music as much it is the myth and legend that now surrounds it. One thing is certain though; if such an impossible feat such as the release of Chinese Democracy can be pulled off, world peace can’t be far behind.

And if not, hey, at least we got a free Dr Pepper.