Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
There’s not many seventy-six year olds who can sell out the five thousand capacity Hammersmith Apollo twice over, but then again, Alice Cooper isn’t like most artists in his age bracket. On the final night of his hundred city ‘Too Close For Comfort’ tour, it’d practically be a crime to miss out on seeing the original shock rocker do his thing here in the UK.
You don’t go to a theme park to feel like you’re really in the wild west or heading out to face your Nemesis. The theatrics and props are just a frame for an experience: a thrilling one for sure, but one comprised of so many parts that each can’t be separated from the whole. It’s the same with an Alice Cooper’s show. Of course there’s the power chord hits, but there’s also a whole courtroom scene, guillotine illusions and a three metre high puppet Frankenstein. Cooper’s charisma immerses you into the whole production and while you’re unlikely to be moved to tears, the sheer entertainment value of what he provides explains how he’s still selling out shows some fifty five years after his debut album release. There’s a time and place to have your cage rattled and another to revel in the opulence of a maximalist rock show, and this is absolutely the latter.
It only takes ten minutes for the all-seated show to be rendered standing room only. ‘I’m Eighteen’ kicks off the rush to the front under the supervision of Cooper’s craggy face and iconic rasp, and ‘Under My Wheels’ satisfies the collective urge for solid shredding. Each song features an artefact from his past amid the theatrical riffs: for ‘Million Dollar Baby’ it’s the rapier, and obviously ‘Snakebite’ features a compliant constrictor. It’s ever so slightly perfect in the major and minor lifts and the nonsensical shadows that twist around your memory. Sanitised and catchy, ‘Be My Lover’ is a poised recreation of youth that an authentic representation of the artificial hairspray metal sound.
However, when Cooper plays it straight the mood suddenly flips. We’ve been lulled into a false sense of security via comforting horror themes and familiar tunes. Suddenly, the music forces its way into the spotlight and we’re struck by just how incredible he still is. For the first time in nearly an hour, he speaks, “Raise your hands if you’re poison,” and he’s stalking through vocal innovation and shaking his hips as we’re hit by the most entertaining offering he could throw at us. An iconic classic rock song, all power and relit memory.
‘Go To Hell’ proves that between the maracas, coordinated poses and hellfire lights under dancing skeletons, there’s a genuine talent for finding and using amazing tour musicians and that’s truly all Cooper’s back catalogue needs. The kitschy fun of ‘Feed My Frankenstein’ leads into ‘Ballad of Dwight Fry’ and, in a hoarse whisper, Ice Nine Kills’ collective grandfather intones his way through his still impressive vocal range. “We all have problems and, personally… I don’t care!” Cooper roars as the stage dressing folds round into another scene for ‘Elected’. It’s a strong, character-driven, irreverent closer, and even if you’d never heard of Alice Cooper before tonight, you’d be sold on his star power by now. There’s an irresistible emotional swell at hearing ‘School’s Out’, the omnipresent track presented in a way that surpasses the original recording. For a split second he stands still, hands in his pockets, and a sneer crinkling across his face, aware of the joyful chaos he’s wrought, then it’s back to popping giant balloons and mixing in Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’ in perfect poise.
“Finally Alice Cooper speaks to you!” Referring to himself in the third person, at the very end of the show and in as plummy a tone as you’d hope, seems perfect for the image that Cooper has carefully cultivated and maintained over half a century. Ever the sprightly showman, this tour serves as a timely reminder that Cooper’s influence and prowess hasn’t been diminished by time. As he accepts one final standing ovation, he wishes us a good night in the only way we could hope for. “May all of your nightmares be horrific!”
KATE ALLVEY
You don’t go to a theme park to feel like you’re really in the wild west or heading out to face your Nemesis. The theatrics and props are just a frame for an experience: a thrilling one for sure, but one comprised of so many parts that each can’t be separated from the whole. It’s the same with an Alice Cooper’s show. Of course there’s the power chord hits, but there’s also a whole courtroom scene, guillotine illusions and a three metre high puppet Frankenstein. Cooper’s charisma immerses you into the whole production and while you’re unlikely to be moved to tears, the sheer entertainment value of what he provides explains how he’s still selling out shows some fifty five years after his debut album release. There’s a time and place to have your cage rattled and another to revel in the opulence of a maximalist rock show, and this is absolutely the latter.
It only takes ten minutes for the all-seated show to be rendered standing room only. ‘I’m Eighteen’ kicks off the rush to the front under the supervision of Cooper’s craggy face and iconic rasp, and ‘Under My Wheels’ satisfies the collective urge for solid shredding. Each song features an artefact from his past amid the theatrical riffs: for ‘Million Dollar Baby’ it’s the rapier, and obviously ‘Snakebite’ features a compliant constrictor. It’s ever so slightly perfect in the major and minor lifts and the nonsensical shadows that twist around your memory. Sanitised and catchy, ‘Be My Lover’ is a poised recreation of youth that an authentic representation of the artificial hairspray metal sound.
However, when Cooper plays it straight the mood suddenly flips. We’ve been lulled into a false sense of security via comforting horror themes and familiar tunes. Suddenly, the music forces its way into the spotlight and we’re struck by just how incredible he still is. For the first time in nearly an hour, he speaks, “Raise your hands if you’re poison,” and he’s stalking through vocal innovation and shaking his hips as we’re hit by the most entertaining offering he could throw at us. An iconic classic rock song, all power and relit memory.
‘Go To Hell’ proves that between the maracas, coordinated poses and hellfire lights under dancing skeletons, there’s a genuine talent for finding and using amazing tour musicians and that’s truly all Cooper’s back catalogue needs. The kitschy fun of ‘Feed My Frankenstein’ leads into ‘Ballad of Dwight Fry’ and, in a hoarse whisper, Ice Nine Kills’ collective grandfather intones his way through his still impressive vocal range. “We all have problems and, personally… I don’t care!” Cooper roars as the stage dressing folds round into another scene for ‘Elected’. It’s a strong, character-driven, irreverent closer, and even if you’d never heard of Alice Cooper before tonight, you’d be sold on his star power by now. There’s an irresistible emotional swell at hearing ‘School’s Out’, the omnipresent track presented in a way that surpasses the original recording. For a split second he stands still, hands in his pockets, and a sneer crinkling across his face, aware of the joyful chaos he’s wrought, then it’s back to popping giant balloons and mixing in Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’ in perfect poise.
“Finally Alice Cooper speaks to you!” Referring to himself in the third person, at the very end of the show and in as plummy a tone as you’d hope, seems perfect for the image that Cooper has carefully cultivated and maintained over half a century. Ever the sprightly showman, this tour serves as a timely reminder that Cooper’s influence and prowess hasn’t been diminished by time. As he accepts one final standing ovation, he wishes us a good night in the only way we could hope for. “May all of your nightmares be horrific!”
KATE ALLVEY