Alice Cooper (the band)

Love It To Death
Killer
School's Out
Billion Dollar Babies
Muscle Of Love
Greatest Hits


Love It To Death (Warner Bros. ’71) Rating: A-
Although the band had previously released two hard to find albums (Pretties For You and Easy Action) with producer Frank Zappa, Cooper himself told Goldmine magazine: “I really consider Love It To Death to be the first Alice Cooper album.” And let’s get this straight right off the bat: Alice Cooper was originally the name of a band. Their lead singer was one Vincent Furnier, who also happened to call himself Alice Cooper. The name was a joke meant to horrify audiences expecting a totally different kind of performer, and Vincent actually took his new stage name grudgingly after some coaxing from his bandmates. In an ironic turn of events, Furnier then unjustly received most of the credit for the band’s success, despite the fact that guitarist Michael Bruce was the band’s best songwriter (though they all wrote). Granted, Cooper was a solid hard rock singer, and he gives especially memorable performances here on the albums two best tracks. "I'm Eighteen" is an unforgettable teen anthem that perfectly describes the awkwardness of that particular age, while “The Ballad Of Dwight Fry” is an epic (6:32) power ballad whose eerily unsettling theatrics are equally essential though far less well-known. Elsewhere, the punchy dual guitar interplay between Glen Buxton and Bruce (the rhythm section of bassist Dennis Dunaway and drummer Neal Smith were no slouches, either) propels rocking songs such as “Caught In A Dream” and the (much catchier) “Long Way To Go,” while the slower-paced “Is It My Body?” is likewise all about its sleazy riffs (as well as Cooper's strutting vocals). The atmospheric “Second Coming” is also quite good (dig those marching drums), and I even like their cheesy sing along cover of Rolf Harris’ “Sun Arise,” especially since its garage-y guitars are in line with the rest of the album. Alas, that lighter song does seem like an anti-climatic ending after the truly haunting psychodrama of ”The Ballad Of Dwight Fry;” this album is called Love It To Death, after all. In addition, “Hallowed Be My Name” is a filler track that doesn’t even come close to the similarly titled song from Iron Maiden, and “Black Juju” is the dreaded nine-minute “experiment” that pads out the album. Don’t get me wrong, the song is extremely powerful in parts, in particular when the psychedelic organ (making obvious their debt to The Doors), sledgehammer guitar riffs, and Cooper's warped vocals kick in alongside Smith’s tribal drum patterns. The jam finish is also highly recommended, but this overly indulgent song is too often pretentious (note the spoken word section) and boring, making it (and the other flawed tracks noted) a bit of a blight on what is still a very good hard rock album.

Killer (Warner Bros. ’71) Rating: A-
This was another prime Alice Cooper album, produced during a time when the band encompassed more styles and were more flat out fun (and strange) than practically any other hard rock band of their day. “Under My Wheels” starts things off with one of the band's most energetic and catchiest rockers, and “Be My Lover” is awfully catchy as well, though it blatantly swipes its riffs from "Sweet Jane." Both of those songs show off a humorous lyrical touch (Alice was the band’s primary lyricist), while the extremely experimental, multi-sectioned “Halo Of Flies” was a successful attempt at an epic scale song. This difficult-to-describe, (dare I say it?) proggy 8-minute track demonstrated the band's increased ambition, as well as how producer Bob Ezrin, whose importance to the band’s early success simply cannot be understated, was able to bring together totally different sounds. Next, the moody “Desperado” effectively conjures up images of the old West and is also notable for its lush strings and Cooper’s Jim Morrison-ish croon. After that highly enjoyable bit of theatricality (I love the "I'm a killer, I'm a clown..." vocal section), the band then gets back to basics on “You Drive Me Nervous,” the album’s weakest song which has plenty of energy but only average songwriting. This is rectified on the equally straightforward but far better “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,” though I wouldn't call that song a standout, either. Aiming to end with a flourish, the band unveils the depraved droner “Dead Babies,” a personal favorite that’s bound to offend anyone who wouldn’t know a joke if they fell over one; if you take lyrics like "dead babies can't take things off the shelf" seriously that's your problem, 'cause only an idiot could fail to see Alice's tongue planted firmly in cheek. Musically the song is notable for its moody verses, great riffs, and catchy chorus, but also for its symphonic sections that again have Ezrin's fingerprints all over them. Finally, “Killer” closes out the album with another stretched out (if not quite as successful) experiment that further revealed the band’s progressive tendencies (it’s hard not to notice all the instrumental passages on the album) while adding gothic elements as well. The song is disjointed but often in a fascinating kind of way, much like the album as a while, I suppose. And though Killer doesn’t contain any hit singles or tracks as transcendent as “I’m Eighteen” or “The Ballad of Dwight Fry,” its eight musically adventurous and creative songs again showed the band at their garage rocking best, making 1971 a year to remember for Alice Cooper.

School's Out (Warner Bros. ‘72) Rating: B+
Rather than play it safe, the Alice Cooper band (just look at the song credits) decided to continue to push their progressive side, with Broadway show tunes and an ever-increasing theatrical element taking the place of reckless, garage-styled hard rock. As such, Ezrin adds more bells and whistles than ever before, but generally to the music's benefit, even if the cheese/campiness factor is occasionally too high. Yet for all their attempts at a more "mature" style, let's not forget that this is still a rock album first and foremost. Loosely based around a concept that - well, you all know the title track (all all-time teen anthem if ever there was one), right? Well, that's the conceptual starting point, and though I wish that song's aggression would appear elsewhere, the guitars also really cook on "Luney Tune," which is as appropriately paranoid as a song about an escaped mental patient should be. The interplay between the guitars (some supposedly supplied by sessioner Dick Wagner) and rhythm section is intense on "My Stars" as well, while "Public Animal #9" sees the band in "party mode" with a fairly straightforward riff rocker with horns. The song's lyrics ("they wanted an Einstein but they got a Frankenstein"), coupled with other choice bits elsewhere ("School's Out": "we ain't got no class, and we ain't got no principles..") showed what a clever lyricist Alice was, which always gave the band an advantage over other hard rock combos. Of course, the album's second best track, "Blue Turk," doesn't rock hard at all, with a loungey late night vibe (dig the use of sax here) and playful lyrics seemingly about necrophilia (!). "Alma Mater" is a nostalgic ballad that perhaps goes overboard on the sentimentality, but it's a good song anyway, distinguished by its distorted vocals mixed way back and a rocking sing along chorus. As if to further demonstrate the band's increased maturity, the album contains two instrumentals: the appropriately titled "Street Fight" is a nifty little interlude that actually sounds like a street fight, and (the also aptly titled) "Grand Finale" ends the album extravagantly with horns blaring everywhere, indeed providing a fine, fittingly grand finale. The only real misfire here is "Gutter Cats vs. the Jets," which is somewhat interesting (mostly due to its incorporation of music from "West Side Story") but too cheesy and all over the place. That said, truth be told I considered the whole album a disappointment at first, as it takes some getting used to. Even then I miss the balls out rock of Love It To Death and Killer, and aside from the title track (arguably the band's signature song) there's no concert favorites or "greatest hits"-type of radio tracks on what is a uniquely experimental album. Fortunately, School's Out is largely a successful experiment, even if it must've confounded fans of the band (or simply fans of the title track) upon its release. It's still a bit of a head scratcher, really, but the band's restlessly creative spirit wins out in the end, even if this album falls short of the (minor) classics that surround it.

Billion Dollar Babies (Warner Bros. ’73) Rating: A-
Continuing with the theatrical element but rocking much harder this time out, this album attempted to give listeners the best of both worlds (garage and glam rock), and is seen by many as their quintessential album as a result. I still prefer the much rawer Love It To Death and Killer, but not by much, as this is a highly entertaining album that's highly accessible (it was their biggest seller to date, hitting #1 on the Billboard charts in both the U.S. and the U.K.) yet quite unlike anything else. Spooky (wink wink) songs such as “Sick Things” and “I Love The Dead” were no less effective for being totally tongue in cheek, and these songs were perfect for their increasingly elaborate stage routines, which featured a healthy dosage of mock horror skits designed to shock. These included such gimmicks as decapitating baby dolls with guillotines (who then oozed fake blood) and Alice’s ever-present array of boa constrictors. The kids ate it up, parents and critics hated it, and these routines paved the way for the future “shock rock” tactics of the likes of Kiss, Ozzy Osbourne, and Marilyn Manson. Of course, on record the band was a much tamer creature, despite an "anything goes" mentality that saw the band leaping fully into vaudeville on theatrical songs such as the introductory “Hello Hooray” (which has an uncommonly strong vocal from Alice) and “Generation Landslide,” on which I can easily visualize Alice in a suit and top hat. Elsewhere, "Raped and Freezin'" is a more straightforward riff rocker that's boosted by some cool instrumental sections and Cooper's typically sharp lyrics, which are often bitingly satirical (with a decided political bent this time out) or deliberately ridiculous, albeit in an ironic way that lets listeners know that this is all in good fun. I mean, what other band would write a song about a young lad's terrifying trip to the dentist, let alone make it work (special note for the surf guitar/spy film music and dentist drill effects) as well as the band does on "Unfinished Sweet"? They also strung together two more memorable rock n’ roll singles (“Elected,” “No More Mr. Nice Guy”) that were easy to sing along to, with Alice singing woefully off-key but with a scruffy charm. The hard rocking title track is another instant classic (I have mentioned what an excellent drummer Neal Smith is, right?) that's easily the best song here, but lest you think this album is perfect let's talk about its flaws. For one, the bigger budget has enabled Ezrin to dominate more than necessary, with a professional polish marking even the album's hardest-hitting sections. That's not necessarily a good thing, and the word "overproduction" wouldn't be out of place when describing this album. Certain sections of the album (parts of "Unfinished Sweet," for example) seem bloated, and the songwriting isn't always first class, either, as "Sick Things" is a bit leaden and "Mary Ann" is a short piano piece without much to it. Come to think of it, "Raped and Freezin'" would pale beside most of their earlier sleaze rockers as well, so what is it about this album that makes it special? Well, quite a few songs are first rate, for starters, but more than that the album sums up their strengths extremely well, as even the lesser tracks continually change shapes in highly creative - if occasionally cheesy or overblown - ways. More than anything, this album is flat-out fun, even if behind the scenes cracks in the band's armor were beginning to show. Perhaps due to drugs and Buxton/Bruce's subsequent erratic behavior, but also probably due to his preference for them as players, more and more Ezrin was turning to studio aces Dick Wagner and Steve Hunter to perform the guitar parts. The writing was on the wall...

Muscle Of Love (Warner Bros. ‘73) Rating: B
By now the Alice Cooper band was divided into two factions: Cooper, who wanted to keep increasing the theatrics, and the rest of the band, who wanted to tone things down. I guess you could say that the rest of the band won this battle but ultimately lost the war, as Muscle Of Love is more straightforward and harder rocking than the previous two albums (perhaps in part because Jack Douglas produces this one instead of Ezrin), yet Alice subsequently dismissed the rest of the band after this album for a solo career that I'll hopefully chronicle at a later date. Too bad the band couldn’t go out on a better note, as this album offers too many generic, unmemorable songs and not a single Cooper classic. Don’t get me wrong, it’s consistently good, but rarely more than that. For example, I dig the wailing guitars (Wagner was again used extensively on this one, along with an old chum named Mick Mashbir; Hunter was off recording Berlin with Lou Reed) and lyrics about the Bad ‘Ol Big Apple (trust me, she’s not so bad once you get to know her), but the almost-metallic melody is kinda clunky. “Never Been Sold Before” is generic but fun, what with its risqué lyrics about a whore and catchy sing along chorus, while the theatrics return on “Hard Hearted Alice” and “Crazy Little Child.” Despite its “haunting” harmonies and another choice guitar solo, I’ve always found the former a bit boring (and am I the only one who hears echoes of Led Zeppelin’s “Thank You” and Deep Purple’s “Hush” here?), but the latter is better, being a classy cabaret tune with a smoky late night vibe. Straightforward hard rock returns on the relatively weak “Working Up a Sweat” and the much better title track, while “Man With the Golden Gun” is an interesting anomaly in that it was the results of the band being commissioned to write the theme song for the James Bond film. The song was rejected by the movie’s producers, probably due to the band’s notorious reputation rather than it having anything to do with the song’s merits, as it would’ve been a good fit for the spy flick. Anyway, my favorite tracks come last, as “Teenage Lament '74” is the catchiest song on the album, with female backing vocals by Liza Minelli and the Pointer Sisters (then again, I suppose that’s not any more surprising than Alice’s previous duet with Donovan on “Billion Dollar Babies”) and another lyric sympathetic to the teen set. I really like the twisting riffs and catchy chorus of “Woman Machine” as well, despite the generic tendencies that make Muscle Of Love the weakest Alice Cooper album since the first two (which Alice himself considers Nazz - not Todd Rundgren’s band, but what the band was called in their earlier incarnation) albums. I'm glad they toned down the goofy spooky stuff and stripped down their sound, as Ezrin was getting excessive, but (perhaps due to too many drugs and fatigue from non-stop touring and recording) the songwriting simply isn’t as inspired this time out. Like I said before, it’s still a good album, but the cracks within their ranks were about to cause the band to crumble, and this was the last most people would ever hear from Dunaway, Smith, Buxton, and Bruce again.

Alice Cooper’s Greatest Hits (Warner Bros. ‘74) Rating: A
This perfectly timed collection successfully looks back at the prime years ('71-'73) of the Alice Cooper band, during which time they released an astounding five albums, all of which are at least good and most of which are well above that. Yet for all their original album's strengths, this compilation contains most of what any casual fan would want from a funny, campy hard rock band who made some great singles. “I’m Eighteen” and “Schools Out” in particular are the obvious high points, containing killer riffs, anthemic choruses, and great lyrics that anyone who is (or ever was) a teenager can relate to. However, every song here is a winner, as these original Detroit shock rockers supply plenty of hooks while exuding a warped but likeable personality (it helps that they never take themselves too seriously). This compilation collects 12 classic songs from Love It To Death ("I'm Eighteen" and "Is It My Body?"), Killer ("Desperado," "Under My Wheels," "Be My Lover"), School’s Out (only the title track), Billion Dollar Babies (the most songs at four: "Hello Hooray," "Elected," "No More Mr. Nice Guy," "Billion Dollar Babies"), and Muscle Of Love ("Teenage Lament '74," "Muscle Of Love"). Greatest Hits eschews the band's moodier side for their most accessible moments, most of which acknowledge an affinity for '60s pop, show tunes, psychedelia, and art rock in addition to more customary hard rock influences such as The Rolling Stones, The Stooges, and The Doors. Granted, there are some essential songs missing, such as “The Ballad Of Dwight Fry” and the three epic entries that probably make Killer the best of the band's original studio albums. However, this actually works in the album's favor, as Greatest Hits clearly aims to concentrate primarily on Alice Cooper the party band. As such, this is the most flat-out fun and listenable Alice Cooper album around, and though it only tells a small part of the story, by and large it is the best part of the story, and as a result this is one of those rare "greatest hits" albums that has become something of a classic in its own right.

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