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Around with Alice

Golf-playing family man Alice Cooper was once the living embodiment of rock 'n' roll excess. Now, he's just happy to be living. Ben Marshall met the clean and sober touring animal.

Alice Cooper has inspired everyone from The Sex Pistols and Slayer through to Kiss and Ice T. One of his songs, Only Women Bleed, has even been covered by Andrew Lloyd Webber protegee Julie Covington. In his 30-year career in rock'n'roll he has written proto­punk anthems like School's Out and Under My Wheels, turned his shows into gory schlock-horror epics, and got drunk with Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Jim Morrison. He himself has survived alcoholism and OD'd on groupies, but is now as likely to be found coaching his son's soccer team or breaking 70 in St Andrew's as he is strapped into a straitjacket screaming Welcome To My Nightmare.

When you started in '67, you seemed to set yourself up as the antithesis to the flower-garlanded goodwill that characterised the era.

(Laughs) Well, everyone was sayin' they were into love and peace, and we were into blondes, blood, sex, death, money and switchblades.

You were heavily involved In that whole scene. Was it the fact that you saw its darker side, the side that eventually resulted In Altamont and the Manson murders?

Sure we were aware of the darker side. I mean, just because a bunch of people talk about the Age of Aquarius and brotherly and sisterly love it doesn't mean the other stuff's just disappeared. The Manson family were just one of many weirdo cults that were around at the time — the bad people didn't go away, they just dressed different. I approved of a lot of hippy ideas, but I was also into fun, having a good time. I think also the peace and love thing was more media-driven than you would believe. Most hippies were into the clothes and the sex. There was no big political idea, they just wanted to have a good time.

You and the band had one hell of a reputation as party animals. Is the 26th blonde as exciting as the first?

No, but, you know, when you're on the road it's all pretty exciting.

The good times for you got pretty bad though, didn't they?

They did. I got to the point where I was drinking all day. If I was awake I needed a drink. Thing was, I was not one of those sad drunks. I wouldn't slur my words. I could always walk straight and I always felt like getting drunk was fun. I mean, even when I was waking up, drinking a bottle of whisky, then crawling to the john and puking blood, I didn't see anything too strange about that.

Didn't the people around you become concerned?

No. See, the late sixties and especially the seventies were one of America's most excessive times. And being in a rock 'n' roll band has always been one of the most excessive things you can do. People — even the people close to you — expected you to be bad. They encouraged it. And like I say, I was always a happy drunk. I wasn't trying to fuck myself up.

When friends of yours died didn't that act as a wake-up call?

It was a shock sometimes. When Keith [Moon, The Who's hard­ drinking drummer] died I couldn't believe it, because drinking was a part of his lust for life. He was one of those guys you expected to live for ever because he enjoyed life so damned much. Jim Morrison was different. Everyone around him knew he was going to kill himself. I think he knew it. There was something suicidal about the way he drank.

Are you amazed that you're still alive?

(Laughs) Well, when I see people like Ronnie Wood, which ain't too often, the first thing we say is, "We made it. We're still here." I think that's weird. You know? As a greeting. But you gotta remember I was into booze, but that was it. Pretty much everyone else I knew was into a whole lot of other stuff. Me, I was always concerned that drugs would fuck with my voice and my performance. I avoided them.

But booze couldn't have done much for your voice and performance.

Well, I only ever cancelled one show because of booze. And that really was a wake-up call. I realised then that if I didn't stop, it would be the end of everything. That did shock me.

Do you sometimes feel that your shows' theatrics are a kind of pantomime take on that period of your life, a way of laughing at your former self?

In a way, yes. But I've always been into the theatrics. I love that shit. I love horror movies and big shows. Even when I was a drunk I was into that. I do know that I see a lot of humour in the horror. I can laugh at myself, that's for sure.

Your new album, A Fist Full Of Alice, is a kind of live greatest hits — why not just release the original versions of the songs?

Well, I've always believed that the greatest bands have been garage bands. The Beatles, The Stones, The Stooges — they all started as punk garage bands. I love that raw energy. So with this record I wanted to cut out the theatrics and the studio, 'cos anyone can sound great in a studio, and just let people know what Alice sounds like playing to 300 people in a club. I wanted some of that raw energy back.

The tour that accompanies this is going to be pretty over the top though, right?

Yeah. But all the lights and the props mean nothing without the songs. And I do mean songs. Noel Gallagher got it right when he said that Burt Bacharach and Paul McCartney are two of the greatest songwriters ever because they believe in a tune. I love a good tune. All my songs, however loud or crazy they are, have always got a great melody. The things that go on when I perform are just the icing.

Are you going to enjoy playing Britain?

Sure I'm going to enjoy playing here. England was one of the first places to get Alice. They got the music, the humour and the horror. They got it even before the US got it. I love playing here, but I enjoy touring, period. I like the routines, the practical jokes and the camaraderie. Even in the seventies, no matter how wild it got there was always that weird sense of security, knowing where all your shit is, knowing where you'll be tomorrow, and maybe six months from tomorrow. I like that a lot. It's like people who've never been in a band think it's all girls and booze. Sometimes it is, but mostly it's just travel. Touring is lawless and crazy, and completely regimented all at the same time. It's weird. When you're on the road sometimes you hate it, but when you're off you sure as hell miss it. I've never been to jail, but sometimes you hear lifers saying that once they were paroled they didn't really know what to do. They missed the place.

How long do you think you're going to carry on? You could retire tomorrow. Live a very comfortable life, do some golfing, teach your son soccer. Why not just give up?

'Cos I love it. I don't ever think I'll wanna stop. It's what I do. I'll rock till I drop.

(Originally published in The Guide, a supplement of The Guardian, June 29 - July 4, 1997)