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RAM Collection No. 50: The Alice Cooper Dreem Nightmare

It's all a charade. All these strident street punk writers verbalising revolution, castigating wimps, boasting drug scores (on paper) that would put Hunter S. Thompson under the table. Tell the truth O'Grady, you — like all the verbal amphetamine generation of scribes — go home, put on bedroom slippers, watch Starsky and Hutch over a hot cuppa chocolate milk. When you think no one's listening, you take off the Sex Pistols and put on your old William Sharespeare albums. Help! I think I'm dreaming this.

"That's right you schmuck," says Alice Cooper, sidling into my room (or is it my nightmare?) with Bernie Taupin bringing up the rear singing country and western love songs.

He grabs me by the lapels of my pyjamas ('the schmuck doesn't even sleep nude' he snarls to Bernie Taupin), presses his lean, tanned, handsomely aquiline face to mine. 'What was the idea of that last issue and that crud Shaar Murray saying I wasn't crappy bad taste I was a goddamn whip!!

"You nurd," he continued spraying me with the taste of stale Budweiser. "Don't you realise I am The Most Amazing media manipulator of all time. J. Walter Thompson was a child in comparison. Eight years now I've been getting headlines — people were believing I was a monster who nibbled chicken heads soaked in beer. Then I played golf with Bob Hope and everyone says, 'oh yes, that nice boy Alice.'

"I have risen," he says, "above My Early Image to become More Wholesome than Corn Flakes. And what does your rag say... the Old Schmuck was better than the New Schmuck!!!"

Well it was, I dream I said.

"I made the most successful rock 'n' roll tour ever of America in '73," snorts Alice. "That tour played more towns, made more money (allowing for inflation), left more teenagers slavering and drooling and hanging themselves from the kitchen ceiling than any other tour in America. Before or after."

Should have brought it to Australia then.

"Did you say that?" screams Alice.

No, I only dreamed I did. Dreams of the film Lovely [Good] To See You Again Alice made around the time of the Billion Dollar Babies tour and showing the original Alice Cooper Band. All surly and snarling and looking Decidedly Wasted, with Alice never with a can of Budweiser out of his hand, on stage, spitting on a silvered dress-model’s head, watching the gob roll down the mirror face then coming up under the neck, mouth wide open and redly waiting, to catch the white spittle ball.

"Urg! That’s disgusting!" shudders Alice and snaps his fingers and waves his hands urgently.

God I would have loved to have seen that show. The real Alice Cooper rock show. With everyone trampling each other to get at the fake money showered on the audience at the end. With all the uglies pushed up the front drooling and ecstatic when Alice’s head, bleeding and cancelled eyed, was hauled out of the guillotine basket.

"Hey! Where am I?"

"It’s your nightmare, but I’m in charge." chuckles Alice’s disembodied voice.

Hey... hey... I just left you with your head chopped off.

"I Came Back," says the voice, "to be the BIggest Showbizz Phenomenon of the ‘70’s!"

"Elton John filled Madison Square Garden more times," mutters Bernie Taupin.

"Shaddup Bernie," says Alice with something of the old Alice in the way the snarl slides up half an octave over a space of four bars.

"Now you, my little punk, think you’re so tough because you can listen to The Ramones for five hours without getting a headache… you are inside my nightmare, and have to find your own way out."

Hey... well, gee... it’s not so bad in here. Sorta black and pretty bumpy and there’s this Really Weird red light flashing a strange stripey pattern from a black window waaaaaay up there somewhere. And there are sorta big mounds of silver metal stuff as far as I can see — which isn’t far, cos it’s so black in here.

What the hell. I reckon I’m stuck inside one of the Alice Cooper Goes To Hell stage props. Maybe the Big Spider. Or the Cyclops. It’s just like being in a piece of Disneyland machinery, I guess.

"You Nurd!" screams Alice. "I’ve just seen the goddamn illustration on this page."

Err, clever little drawing, no?

Alice screams.

The Red Stripes flash like lightning on Mars. The metallic mounds buzz and crackle with electric shock.

Hey... just a minute... those stripes are starting to make sense... that’s a... no, missed it... got that one, that’s a... God. They’re digital figures. There’s a multiplication sign. There’s the ticket prices. There’s the crowd capacity for...

Jeeeeeee-sus. I’m stuck at the bottom of the Electric Calculator THat’s Working Out The Tour Profit for Welcome To My Nightmare!!

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Alice Cooper (Perth)

Author: Jerry Cornelius

Holy choreographed spiders, Batman, I'm being entertained!

Yes Robin. I know it's hard to believe but there are still some actors who are willing to give their All to each performance.

Actors? But gosh Batman. I thought this was a R&R concert...

And so it is Robin, however, Mr Cooper is far, far more than just another singer. His art transcends the medieval view that all things must stay within their predetermined boundaries.

When you put it that way, Batman, it all seems so clear.

Yes, Alice Cooper, be she whom she may, is the hybrid son of theatre and urban civilisation.

Right Batman! He gives the best of both worlds and... Wow! Look at Cold Ethyl!

Robin, get a hold of yourself.

I can't help it Batman. That inflatable lady is so lifelike. Gee Wilickers, she really looks neat for a plastic broad!

On the contrary, old chum — she is neat, but she's not made of plastic — I think he's done it with mirrors.

Holy perversion then — He's molesting her.

Easy Robin, easy, it's all right... I'm sure Alice won't hurt her too badly. Look, he's singing a love song.

Shades of Jack the Ripper. Only Women Bleed.

Such a haunting melody, so admirable romantic... if only... if only.

Here Batman, let me loosen that silly utility belt.

That won't be necessary. I think I can handle it myself (but, thanks for asking).

...Look down there on the stage. That crafty super archstar has covered it in cobwebs and Black Widow spiders!

Great Scott, you're right — Quick, no time to lose, Batgirl?

Yes, bat-darling?

Give me your eyeshadow and get out of those leotards — we're going to infiltrate that stage. Curse that devilish music!

Let get 'em, Batman!

In the wink of a bat's eye, three gaudily attired crimefighters entered the boogieman throng of cheering citizens, never to be seen again. Fortunately for this story, Alice played on.

From the vantage point of what once may have been Groucho Marx's oddly twisted bed, Alice ran through the repertoire of his nightmares. It was really a demonstration of how limited an album is when compared to the stage show it evokes. By using the little boy theme of 'Steven' progressively between songs. Alice did away with introductions and endings, keeping the whole thing intact.

Alice cavorted through a dozen dance macabres, performed the occasional greatest hit and demonstrated the art of audience abuse — and they loved every decibel of it. The band stayed behind a gallows-like structure pumping out the raunch for most of the performance, but when they did emerge for a guitar duel to climax 'Devil's Food' they played the stuff that rock and roll dreams are made of. Not to forget the four dancers. Together with Alice they turned 'Some Folks' into a fluorescent skeleton's softshoe! Special congrats to the amazing acme giant monster.

And, of course, Alice was Alice. More loveable, more power-lunged, more totally in control than most front-men could ever hope in their wildest dreams. Whether in ripped leotards or cladin showman's top hat, tails, and cane — Alice rules.

'I'm Eighteen', 'School's Out' and more. Welcome to My Nightmare is the greatest R&R variety show in the world. (And wait till you see the filmed insert, holy witchcraft!)