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Sex, rock and a boy called Alice

ALICE COOPER. Now isn't that a real, cute, old fashioned apple pie and ice cream name for a healthy young All-American BOY?

No, dear reader, it isn't a typographical error, for She just happens to be a He, and if that's not enough, the four other garish gentlemen who rock 'n' roll with him on stage also work under this collective name.

Joked Alice, having just crawled out of his bed for our tete-a-tete: "I suppose you could call me the Danny La Rue of rock."

A hard night at the Speakeasy had taken its toll. His black hair disheveled — eye make-up smeared — a beauty spot on the left corner of his mouth was just beginning to fade.

It was to be my second encounter with Miss, oophs sorry, Mr Cooper, for I first clapped astonished eyes upon him at the famous Toronto Rock and Roll Revival in September 1969.

Having just followed the show-stopping antics of Little Richard, I was appalled by their music but completely transfixed by their completely bewildering stage show.

Against an ear-splitting barrage of electronic cacophony, these five left overs from 'Star Trek' lurched all around the stage, re-enacted an episode from Television's 'Prisoner ' series, threw live chickens, balloons, footballs and giant mutilated watermelons into the crowd.

And for a finale they fired a flare gun and completely wrecked the stage when a fight broke out between Alice and the drummer during which I was nearly thrown into the crowd.

Quite amused by my vivid memories of that event, Alice explained. "Our stage act is even more visual but now we have improved the music to the point where it is now as strong as the visual aspects."

Being a boy named Sue or a man called Alice, invites bovver. For in a climate where full-frontal outrageousness has become a bore, Alice Cooper is about the only band who can still antagonise the parents of middle-class America in the same way that the Rolling Stones did in the mid-'sixties. A situation which pleases Alice no end.

"We just love to be hated by the parents simply because we're not worried about them."

He continued, "I think I should correct that: the parents are more scared than hateful. Like many of them hate long hair, but that's only until their kids start to grow long hair, then it's O.K. because if it's their kids then it must be all right," adding with a grin, "One day every kid will be a freak."

Though Alice and friends quite intentionally project this image of uncertain sexuality, they are quite straight to the point where they are unconcerned if people choose to look upon them as being a freaky bunch of faggy pooves.

"The sex in our act is purely tongue in cheek, but of course you'll always find that some take it far too seriously."

"When we first started out, the girls were very wary, but after a while their curiosity was aroused. However, the groupies were afraid of us because we threatened their femininity," he explained with raised mascara eye-brows.

"But now that we are aiming our act at the sixteen year olds they love us to the point where a lot of chicks are throwing their bras on stage with their telephone numbers written on the cups."

At this juncture in our conversation I figured it was 'owning up time,' for though they are professional rock dragsters they are nevertheless as butch as Smithfield Meat Market on a Monday morning.

"So why all this intense preoccupation with sex," I enquired.

"Well, it's because a lot of groups have forgotten that rock music is sex music. We are a third generation rock band and we want to bring back some of the earthiness of it's origins, our music doesn't hit you in the head, but in the lower region.

"What irritates most people is that they can't identify our sexuality... we appear to be neuter."

Enough fun and games I thought, so I asked Alice what his real name was?

"I ain't getting you that," he promptly retorted. "Cause I don't want to get my Dad in trouble... you see he's a Minister in Phoenix."

So what were his reactions to his wayward off-spring, "Oh, he loves it all, he's one of our biggest fans. In fact once he flew all the way from Phoenix in Arizona to Detroit just to see us play."

Dad Cooper, like so many of the new generation, as the title of their new album suggests, 'Love It To Death.'

Well I guess it takes all kinds to make the world.