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Sharpen up Alice Cooper!

When Alice Cooper says, "No more, Mister Nice Guy," the words carry a more menacing undertone than if any other creature on earth had uttered them. The disgusting wax head with the blood pouring from the throat is already tossed aside in the elaborate manner he practiced during his world tour, when he coined the quoted phrase.

If amputated limbs and children's heads being swung around in front of audiences is Cooper's idea of his Nice Guy image, then it's safe to say a prayer at the thought of what will happen when that gimmick wears off. Can the show, which features things like ritual murders in full colour, calls to roar savage curses, and which drives a hunchbacked executioner to insanity, really be made any scarier? Uh, come on, Alice, you can handle it! There must be something that makes the heart skip a beat more easily than with torture and rape on stage! And that cut up scene... Is it really hard enough? There's nothing that helps a song so much as a good execution or a happy and enjoyable mutilation. No danger. Alice is a real song and dance man, and I'm sure we can all trust his ability to develop. He must be able to provoke a better reaction from his audience than just ghostly creeping around, Nurnberg chants, military salutes and glassy stares filled with murderous lust...

Can you keep what you promised?

Oh, Cooper boy, it's a real shame to notice such a weak response. If you can't get them real hot, you'll soon find yourself in the same compartment as Cliff Richard and Tom Jones. But we should not jump to conclusions. We have to give the guy a chance. After all, he's only been going around chopping off arms and legs for a couple of years. To be quite honest, you have occasionally seen signs of advanced entertainment thinking from him. Nothing too remarkable but a symbolic execution here, a cutthroat there... A little foreshadowing of something to come, perhaps? But of course, we can't be too sure either. It is conceivable that the mediocrity will continue as before, and then we have to seriously start to consider electrifying that fake death chair that Alice throws himself into during his performance. We can't let weak-legged artists drag down our wholesome pop music, can we?

Let us not forget that we have a proud tradition to think about. A tradition made possible by the brave discoveries made by men like the late Jim Morrison of the Doors, whose well-documented trouser mishap exposed the bare bones of the old and showed just how far an entertainer can really stretch. Okay, appealing to the inner terror and sexual deviance is certainly a step forward, Alice, but is it really enough? Sure, you've promised to burn down schools and throw all old principles into hell, but can you keep your word? I have to admit you came close when you beat up President Nixon on stage, but can you imagine my disappointment when a friend told me that the President was nothing more than a hired actor who looked like him...

The sound of a nightmare

No one would dare to dream of criticizing the music. Cooper's studio sound contains a power that only good American producers can bring out. The shrill voice, which strangely enough never sounds off key, hovers high above guitars recorded three times, in a way that is very engaging. Few can duplicate it. The sound must be based on one of Pete Townsend's nightmares. Alice's sound is flawless and the LP "Billion Dollar Babies" is excellent proof of that. But a band must be able to provide more than music these days. Sure, it's great to have a bassist who sits in the bedroom and knits hatbands after old Apache patterns in his spare time. And sure, it can be fun to play football with doll heads when you're bored, but doesn't it attract far too little attention? Is it enough to place the name Alice Cooper in the heads of Mr. and Mrs. Middle-Of-The-Road, if they are out looking for something "different"? I'm pretty sure you'll rack your brains to find the right gimmick, and you'll undoubtedly find something too.

A small suggestion...

If you don't think it's too pretentious, I'd like to make a suggestion which might give you that extra spice you seem to be missing. I heard your dad is a rocket engineer down in Phoenix. Why not pop down to Arizona and whisper a few words in Dad's ear? I know it's not that insanely original, but I'm sure people would raise their eyebrows if a "stray" rocket came and wiped out all of Washington and you managed to catch it all on videotape. You could use it as stage decor during your next tour. Think of it, Alice! You still have the chance to make a name for yourself...

(Issue #1; originally published in late summer 1973. Translated from the original Swedish publication, with the assistance of Christian Strandell, March 2026)