MUSIC: Slash and friends bellyflop into the Mirage pool.

The dresses were almost as short as the attention spans.

The air smelled of cologne and, well, lots more cologne, as if the few clouds in the sky were formed of Drakkar.

It was Friday night at the Bare pool at The Mirage, where the property was celebrating its 20th anniversary with a concert centered around Velvet Revolver/former Guns N Roses guitarist Slash, who brought a slew of his rocker buddies with him.

“Vegas is my favorite town,” Slash announced from the lip of the stage at the onset of the show, buttressed by Rob Zombie guitarist John 5 and Zombie drummer Tommy Clufetos along with a rotating cast of singers.

You expect gigs like this to be a little rough and unfocused, as the many guests performers seldom have much if any time to rehearse beforehand.

As such, shows like these always look better on paper, and this one was no exception, as it was a pretty leaden affair all around, teeming with as much life as the county morgue.

After a slew of classic rock staples like “Highway to Hell” and “War Pigs” with singer Franky Perez, a fine frontman, albeit one without the most commanding stage presence, a surprise early highlight came when the Pussycat Dolls’ Nicole Scherzinger roared through Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love,” whipping her hair around in dark arcs, yowling as if this pussycat had an anvil on her tail.

“I just got my ass handed to me. How can I follow that?” Courtney Love wondered after Scherzinger left the stage, and true to her words, it was pretty much all downhill from there.

Honestly, we were just glad Love showed up, cocktail in hand, although, only about half of her voice joined her.

She got through a sluggish take on Hole’s “Celebrity Skin” and read the lyrics from a crib sheet as she sang T. Rex’s “20th Century Boy” before being joined on stage by Cheap Trick guitarist Rick Nielsen for a pair of tunes.

Aerosmith’s Joe Perry came out next, jamming with Cypress Hill’s Sen Dog, who barked his way through “Walk This Way,” to be followed by Chris Daughtry, who sang a miserable “Livin’ On The Edge,” which was so bad, it was kind of like getting punched in the cochlea.

The grand finale was a middling set by Velvet Revolver with Franky Perez again on vocals.

Most of the dudes in the band looked kind of bored and ready to be somewhere else, like they were already pondering their drink orders for the after party.

The whole event just seemed like an excuse to have a party, but the thing is, here in Vegas, those kind of excuses are never necessary.

And neither was this show, really.