#054: Year Of Metal Alice Cooper - Billion Dollar Babies
Despite all his shock-rocker affectations, Al Cooper strikes me as one of the least divisive figures in music. Whenever you see him in an interview, having fun with his public persona, or appearing in a movie, he never fails to come across as a top bloke. With his daffy name and Victorian garb, he sets the bar low, but always manages to impress with his intelligence and humour. To that end, he tends to get away with being one of the more famous rock stars around, without many people really knowing a lot of his music.
This 1973 LP is his sixth release in a remarkably prolific first 5 years of business (he’d keep it up for another 15 then take his foot very much off the gas), and seems to be generally considered among his best. There’s really nothing not to like about it. He’s a clever guy masquerading as a silly guy (and sometimes a necrophiliac), and you can hear that he’s having a fantastic time from front to back. You’d be hard pressed not to root for the dude, so: if he’s happy, I am too.
He’s clearly been listening to plenty of glam rock (indeed really this is more of a glam album than a metal one), and has taken on board all that fluidity and pomp. “Hello Hooray” in particular is bolshy and swaggering, with crashing pianos, Mick Ronson-esque guitars, and the first of many delightfully hammy performances from the main man on the mic. He just has unmatched charisma; not many artists could get away with including a song called “Raped And Freezin” - at track two no less.
His cause is bolstered by a more than decent backing band. Alice Cooper was once the name of the group before the former Vincent Furnier took it as his legal title (the band would dissolve a few years after, in what I would imagine were acrimonious circumstances driven by the frontman’s love of the folding stuff), and his sidemen wrote a lot of the biggest hits along with him. They’re not called on to do anything particularly impressive, but they can throw down, and they shine on a couple of tracks, like the surprisingly pretty, tuneful “Generation Landslide”. It’s the only tune on which Cooper falls short; the band are shuffling and shining beautifully, which is undercut a little by Alice’s silly billy snarl.
The hits really are big, big hits. The title track’s a classic; it’s one of the heavier moments on the LP with fantastic winding guitar lines and a rare edge of genuine sinister edge from an otherwise-good time band. The creeping, underplayed verses are a brilliant touch; the masterstroke is inviting Donovan to sing/mutter back up. There’s a guy who knows how to write a spooky song.
Even better is the oozing machismo of “No More Mr Nice Guy”. A theme tune of sorts for Cooper, it’s a riotous character piece, an ode to being an unrepentant dickhead. The lyrics are funny, the cheery chirping on the bridge is a lovely touch, and the chorus is stupendous. It’s an instantly memorable song, straddling the line between funny music and novelty music and staying on the right side thanks to exceptional pop craftsmanship.
I think if they’d wanted to, the Alice Cooper band could have put a lot less effort into this and it still would have come off; like Kiss after them, they’ve got the look and the aura. You go to the show for the spectacle and to an extent the music is secondary. Instead they put together an album that isn’t always amazing but is interesting, great fun, and boasts some all-timers.
