The Revenge of Alice Cooper—review

 

Even some Alice Cooper fans can be confused about the difference between the group and the solo artist.

Once upon a time, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, Alice Cooper was a band, consisting of a lead singer named Alice Cooper (nee Vincent Furnier), guitarists Michael Bruce and Glen Buxton, bassist Dennis Dunaway, and drummer Neal Smith.

In 1974, after seven albums, for reasons that differ depending on who’s telling the tale, the band members went their separate ways. Alice Cooper, the lead singer, became a solo act. The other four found a new lead singer and attempted to continue as the Billion Dollar Babies (named for the AC group’s highest-charting album), but success eluded them. Buxton died far too young at age 49 in 1997.

Over the past fifty years, Cooper has maintained a core base of fans drawn to the power of the original group’s music (and his solo hits) and a macabre, theatrical stage show.

Even long-time fans sometimes refer to Bruce, Buxton, Dunaway, and Smith as Cooper’s backing band, but this is inaccurate. Originally, all five members were Alice Cooper.

At various points, the four surviving members have reunited for one-offs (Live from the Astroturf is a highlight) and occasional songs on Cooper’s solo releases. But they’ve never made an album-length return.

Until now.

The Revenge of Alice Cooper is like stepping into an aural time machine and traveling back to 1974 for the band’s follow-up to Muscle of Love. Sure, there’s nothing here that’s as anthemic as “I’m Eighteen” and “School’s Out,” or even “Elected” and “Under My Wheels.” But such comparisons are unfair. Those songs have had decades of airplay to burn into fans’ collective memories, tied to rites of passage and idealized memories of youth.

By contrast, chances are good that the songs on The Revenge of Alice Cooper will seldom be played on the radio, which is more a commentary on the sad state of that industry than on the quality of the songs here.

Because, make no mistake, the new album is excellent.

The record opens with “Black Mamba,” a quintessential Alice Cooper tune, filled with self-awareness and double-entendre. Just what is the black mamba, anyway? A literal snake “inside your bed sheets / Coiled into the folds so white”? A trouser snake (hee hee)? Both? Neither? The song is wrapped in the groovy, guitar-driven sound fans are accustomed to hearing from the group, making it the perfect introduction.

Some of the songs try too hard to be menacing and hip, serving only to remind audiences that the median age of the members is late 70s. “Wild Ones” suffers this way, but not as much as “Up All Night,” which would be right at home on any glam metal album from the ’80s. And “Kill the Flies” maps too-familiar territory for the band, another song about institutionalization and mental illness, topics that don’t play well in today’s more enlightened climate.

The songs get better with “One Night Stand,” a clever opus about two serial killers unwittingly attracted to one another. “Blood on the Sun,” composed by Dunaway, is the album’s best, reflecting on the senselessness of war and its proclivity for chewing up our youngest and best.

A surviving guitar part by Buxton highlights “What Happened to You,” ensuring that all members of the original band are represented. Elsewhere, lead guitar parts are handled by Gyasi Heus, a name I was unfamiliar with but whose work blends in well with the veteran members. Robby Krieger of The Doors plays on “Black Mamba.”

Cooper’s harmonica is a focal point on “Intergalactic Vagabond Blues” and “I Ain’t Done Wrong,” the latter being a cover of a Yardbirds song.

Unlike some of his contemporaries who have soldiered on into their later years, Cooper’s voice has aged perfectly. His raspy delivery is indistinguishable from his heyday, and he still sings with conviction. The decision to pepper the chorus of “Black Mamba” with “Ya ya ya,” however, is perplexing, as if a more appropriate lyric escaped him.

Presiding over the entire affair is long-time AC producer Bob Ezrin, who also helps with background vocals and plays the organ on “Kill the Flies.”

The regular album’s final song, “See You on the Other Side,” (two bonus tracks follow on some editions), would be the perfect career coda; however, at 77, Cooper has shared no plans to retire or even slow his incessant touring. An alternate explanation for the title is that fans will just flip the record over and listen again.

So, will Cooper’s touring band play any of this album on the road this summer and fall? Performing these songs without the original group feels wrong, yet the material deserves a live presentation. Bruce, Dunaway, and Smith will join Alice for his annual Christmas Pudding show in Arizona later this year, yet the logistics of them playing a regular schedule are likely more challenging. Let’s hope something can be worked out and that any such performances will be professionally recorded for posterity.

It’s not often that a band writes a new chapter after 52 years, and even less likely that it’s any good. The original Alice Cooper—the group, that is—has managed to do both.

Alice Cooper, Road Warrior

I have some thoughts about Alice Cooper's latest, Road, but wanted to wait to share them until after I'd had time to digest his disappointing comments about trans people.

It's a testimony to how much Cooper is loved and respected that even fans who disagree with him are bending over backward to interpret his words in a way that paints the 75-year-old shock rocker in a positive light. 

Yeah, he's entitled to his opinion. But since he's built a career based in part on gender-bending wardrobe changes and inclusiveness for people who don't follow the dictates of society, some of his comments are a little ... well, shocking. 

Cooper didn't completely dismiss trans people, no matter what the headlines say. He said there were legitimate "cases of transgender" but also worried that it was a "fad." He repeated tired old talking points about men pretending to be trans so they could use women's restrooms and "have the time of [their] life in there." He also criticized "the whole woke thing."  

Sentiments like these aren't unusual from somebody Cooper's age, especially given the calcified grip with which that demographic clings to Fox News, but it's unusual to hear it from him. 

Unfortunately, the singer violated a policy he's articulated in many interviews and at least one song: "Shut Up and Rock" (from 2021's Detroit Stories). 

I had to parse how his words will affect not only his transgender fans but also their parents and grandparents. Granted, people should not place too much stock in the opinions of celebrities, yet they do. I've lost count of the social-media posts I've seen that say, "I stand with Alice," "Right on, Alice," "100%," and so on, indicating he's given some fans another reason to shun inclusivity. His words are going to make life a little tougher for kids and parents dealing with these challenging issues, and that's a shame. 

For this lifelong fan, his words also mean that Alice Cooper the Man isn't nearly as cool as Alice Cooper the Performer. Consider that bubble duly popped.

Now, on to Road.

It's solid. Cooper and his longtime touring band have crafted a loose concept album, with songs about world travel and hard rockin'.  This is a shallow theme around which to build an entire record, and that lack of depth is reflected in the lyrics, too many of which are basically about how cool it is to be a rock star in general and Alice Cooper in particular. 

Road could be more relatable to us working stiffs if it had included numbers about the different types of folks one encounters while traveling — salespeople, soldiers shipping out or on their way home, refugees, and the like. Instead, the record focuses on just the vagabond rock-star lifestyle—fine, but limiting. Imagine From the Inside without Nurse Rosetta, Millie and Billie, and Veronica for a sense of the missed opportunities here. 

Given the album's singular focus, though, it's not surprising how it pays homage to various Cooper classics that are staples of his live show. Listeners will hear callbacks to "Elected" at the tail end of "I'm Alice," and a lyrical echo of "Eighteen"— like it, love it, like it, love it — in "All Over the World." Self-reference has been a signature Cooper characteristic for decades; this album is no exception.

Road's great strength is how comfortable everybody is with everybody else. Cooper's touring band — Ryan Roxie, Tommy Henriksen, Nita Strauss, Chuck Garric, and Glen Sobel — are here in full force, ripping through songs with the confidence that comes from playing with one another night after night. 

Cooper, too, is in fine voice. He has always had a raspiness to his delivery, which is used to especially good effect here. The song "100 Miles" addresses the end of the tour—and maybe the end of the line—for a nearly hoarse Cooper, who ruminates about having "no place at all to be" and "nobody yelling, 'Hey, man, it's time to go.'" The song suggests a more serious vein for Cooper to mine in future releases, one that would be entirely appropriate given his ouevre's morbid focus: impending mortality.

A highlight is "White Line Frankenstein," about a coked-up trucker. Rage Against the Machine's Tom Morello provides six-string lightning throughout. 

"Baby Please Don't Go," an appealing ballad, reminds listeners of Cooper's softer side and wouldn't be out of place on FM rock radio today. A remake of "Road Rats" fits well with the road theme, as does a cover of "Magic Bus," which closes the album.  

It all goes down easy and actually grew on me with each listen. Road does not travel along any interesting byways or take any intriguing detours, yet it barrels down the highway at a fast clip. Sometimes, that's enough. 

I haven't had a chance to watch the blu-ray of 2022's Hellfest performance, included with the CD, but I suspect it will be a typically high-energy set. Alice seldom disappoints live. 

Safe to say that if you've always liked Cooper— and particularly if you like the musicians who have been playing with him now for many years—you'll like Road. I give it a solid B.