Article Database
USA Today
July 16, 1991
Author: Edna Gundersen
A smarter Alice Cooper's 'Stoopid' tour
"I would never hang out with him," says Alice Cooper, on the subject of himself. Shock rock's snake charmer refers to his stage character in the third person, claiming the alter ego has a distinct posture, mannerisms and volatile personality.
"It's hard to turn into Alice," confides Cooper (born Vince Furnier, but don't ever call him Vince). "He never shows up till there's an audience. And when he shows up, I don't know what will happen. I just let the adrenaline run. It's the only drug I'm allowed to use."
Cooper, the Arizona-raised son of a preacher, introduced the creepy leather-wrapped, mascara-smeared Alice 20 years ago and won a wide following of bored disenchanted youth with such power-rock hits as Eighteen and School's Out. His legendary shows were packed with horror theatrics: he chopped up dolls, simulated hangings and beheadings, paraded in straitjackets and frolicked with a boa constrictor.
At 43, he's still cranking out timely hard rock and copping a punk attitude.
"When Alice gets on stage, he's always 18," the singer says. "I don't see any end to it. If I gained 300 pounds and lost my hair and got silly, I'd think about quitting."
Hey Stoopid, his 21st album, features fellow metal screamer Ozzy Osbourne and a slew of now-generation guitarists weaned on Cooper, including Slash of Guns N' Roses, Steve Vai, Joe Satriana and Motley Crue's Mick Mars and Nikki Sixx. Cooper had no trouble enlisting their services.
"L.A. is a real rock fraternity," he said. "You go to these award shows and parties and instead of saying, 'Let's do lunch,' it's, 'Let's get together and write a song.' I take them up on it. I tell them, 'OK, I'll be at your house at 11:30.' "
A healthy contingent of that fraternity -- Cooper, Judas Priest, Motorhead, Dangerous Toys and Metal Church -- make up the current Operation Rock & Roll tour. Cooper's show incorporates illusions and such grisly props as a 25-foot fire-spitting skull, but he steers clear of scare tactics.
"It was easy to shock people in the '70s, before there were any Freddy Kruegers," says the rocker, who plays a cameo role as Freddy's dad in the film Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare, opening Sept. 13. "I'm not slitting people's throats anymore, or not that much. You can see that on any TV show. I want the audience to leave wondering, 'How did he do that"' "
He's ditched the live snake routine. "Too predictable. On the last tour, there'd be six kids in the front row with boa constrictors bigger than mine."
Though famous for visual effects, Cooper says his priority is music. "If the music's not right, the theatrics are a joke. You can buy a stage show, but lights and props aren't enough. I try to bring the lyrics to life."
On the new album's first single, Hey Stoopid, Cooper is the voice of experience, barking, "This ain't your daddy talking" as he rails against drug abuse and teen suicide. "I don't want to preach, but teenage suicide is so stoopid it deserves it's own spelling. Even a street creature like Alice Cooper thinks it's stupid."
A recovering alcoholic, Cooper remembers stupidity. "In the early '70s, the shows were very complicated, but I was an unfocused mess. Today, I'm in such better shape physically and mentally."
He's given up golf because "it's just not violent enough," but he runs three miles in 21 minutes every night.
Night? He explains, "I don't want to ruin my pallor, this nice white, see-through glow."
That's the spooky Alice talking. The offstage Alice is a self-described workaholic who leads a sane existence in Scottsdale, Ariz., with hi wife and two children, aged 10 and 6.
"My kids don't think I'm square, but they will," he predicts. "At some point, they'll listen to Glenn Miller and tell me to cut my hair."