I have tickets in hand to see Alice Cooper later this year. I saw him once before ...
8 June 2011
The headliners I should say at the outset were Def Leppard. More later.
There was an early and thoroughly so-so opening set from Thin Lizzy, who appear intent on remaining their own tribute band despite an earlier showing this year which had left me wishing they would ditch the Phil Lynott backdrop and record some new. Someone from Snow Patrol who wasn’t Gary Lightbody - you know, the other one, whattsisname - joined them for ‘The Boys Are Back In Town’ and threw some slightly fey and very unconvincing shapes. This was the highlight.
As the house lights went up roadies scurried across the stage setting up the rig for the second opening act, Alice Cooper. Not ordinary roadies I might say, but roadies dressed head to toe as skeletons. And indeed no ordinary rig. The backdrop is a decaying gothic castle, there are giant grey hospital screens behind which lurk who knows what. Life size dolls and strange blinking equipment apparently liberated from Dr Frankenstein’s laboratory are scattered across the stage. Finally a huge front cloth bearing Alice’s panda-eyed visage is hoisted into place. I came with no expectations, but this looks like fun ...
The lights go down ... and the voice of Vincent Price booms across the arena. A blatant rip-off from Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ surely, until you realise Alice recorded this in 1975. The curtain falls and the band kick into ‘Black Widow’. Three guitarists and a bass player strung out across the stage, but all eyes are on Alice Cooper singing from atop a giant black silk draped pulpit dressed as a giant spider.
There is no let up. ‘Billion Dollar Baby’ sees Alice stalk the catwalk scattering dollar bills from a rapier that he wields like an Olympic champion.
‘Cold Ethyl’ makes her appearance - a life size doll dragged across the floor, subjected to all manner of indignities but still faring better than the heroine of the song, killed, frozen and brought out for - ahem - special occasions.
A quick change into a white lab coat and, pausing only to fire up the lightning machine, ‘Feed My Frankenstein’ is the cue for a 15ft tall Alice/monster to emerge from the wings, swatting the guitarists like flies. ‘No More Mr Niceguy’ and ‘I’ll Bite Your Face Off’ need no explanation. ‘Poison’ is a reminder of what a great pop sensibility the man has, and allows an incredibly tight band to stretch out.
The skeleton roadies appear and from behind the screens pull ... the guillotine! Forced to kneel, Alice is publicly executed and the severed head paraded before the baying crowd before it is tossed carelessly into the wings.
But, he's not really dead! Returning in a sequined tail coat and top hat, he is the tacky politician seeking your vote to get ‘Elected’. Complemented by ticker tape and balloons the effect is a Primary Election Rally in a gay disco. “I know you have had your problems in Belfast! Frankly ... I don’t care!” he cries as he bursts the balloons with a handy rapier. It’s a refreshing change, to be honest.
And as any great showman knows, you save the best for last. A quick change into a demented Ken Dodd stove pipe hat and ‘Schools Out’ for summer. A seamless segue into ‘Another Brick In the Wall’ and back again brings the house down.
This is a big, dumb, poptastic rock show. Old-style. No screens, no lasers, no auto-tune. Just great songs, a crack band, and props that I suspect wouldn’t have seemed high tech when Eisenhower was in the White House.
My only disappointment was that there was no sign of Alice Cooper’s snake. I am guessing he had trouble getting his python through customs, and which of us can say we’ve never had that problem?
Oh, yes, and Def Leppard? The chap beside me fell asleep. Enough said.
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