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Alice changes props in theater of absurd

There is still room in the '80s for Alice Cooper's rock theatrics, or at least 22,000-plus fans at Joe Louis Arena Friday seemed to think so.

Gone were the props that made Cooper's '70s act such an elevated form of shock rock — no more blood-filled rubber babies, no more lady mannequins for Alice to make violent love to.

However, the new show is still a theatrical exercise, a form of rebellion — somewhere between "Clockwork Orange's" militant mood and "West Side Story's" picture of street youth.

However, the hero in this case was an androgynous Alice Cooper, a native Detroiter who would certainly make one of the ugliest women in the world.

Take it away, Alice.

OPENING HIS show with "Model Citizen," Cooper wore his colors — a black leather flight jacket, the American Flag flying with authority on the back, a flight hat and an avalanche of medals. This high-stepping leader of the young rock army also wore sleazy black stretch pants, eye makeup, and a hacked-up black and red leopard-print T-shirt that exposed his navel. Somehow, I wouldn't choose the guy as my hero, nor would I think him a model citizen, nor would I elect him to public office as Cooper tried to persuade the troops to do with election placards during "I Want To Be Elected."

However, had a vote been taken at that moment, the audience — most of them seemingly between the age 14 and 18, very high and tired of the long, hot summer — probably would have selected this strange character as their choice.

The song "Eighteen" brought down the house and seemed an appropriate theme for Cooper's fans. It was at this point that the boa constrictor, a participant in Alice's shows since 1970, wrapped itself lovingly around his master's body and head. It was evident that the two were pals.

THERE WERE other mood to the show as well. Cooper's penchant for rocky horror showed up in "You Can Go To Hell," in which he pulled some Iggy Pop moves with a dagger, and he seemed to mean it when he told the audience to "Dance Yourself To Death."

Cooper sang old favorites too like "Under My Wheels," but by far the most interesting numbers were "Clones (We're All)," an authentic new-wave single, and an updated mid-'60s cover tune "Talk, Talk." These two songs make Cooper's new album, "Flush The Fashion," somewhat interesting and, if he continues to evolve this directly, he should stay alive musically in the '80s.

Technically, the show was good. The sound system was without flaw, and the musicians, in particular guitarists Mike Pinera and Freddie Mandell, were articulate and professional.

Although the band relied on some overdone tricks of the stage, which might seem boring and pointless to those '70s fans who have seen it all before, the Joe Louis crowd were impressed.

So much that, after two encores, the audience wouldn't leave. The mod became quite insistent, and the house lights did nothing to get people to go home. Rather than antagonize the mass of messed-up kids, Cooper's band widely performed an unplanned third encore.

But that didn't save all the trouble. Several fans were dragged out as they tried to crash through the backstage area, and one girl, who jumped from the bleachers, was awaiting an ambulance as the crowd finally left.

Opening act, Billy Squier, was also well received and managed to hold one's attention, even with some tedious guitar riffing. Nonetheless, Squier is energetic and his vocals are strong.