It is Halloween week, after all, and who better to review than dear ol' Alice? Here is an excerpt:
From a personal standpoint, my adoration for The Coop started in 1972, when I was snuck out of my house under false pretenses and brought surreptitiously to an Alice Cooper concert by my older (and infinitely cool) cousins. As a naïve and rather nerdy twelve-year-old at the time, Cooper gave me a vision of what one could do with Rock-and-Roll. He sang to a boa constrictor! He hacked up baby dolls! He was hung upon a gibbet in the middle of the stage! Oh, good lord, I had seen the Promised Land!
Upon returning home after the concert, I drew Alice Cooper eyes on all my sister's dolls, started growing my hair and borrowed money from my parents to buy a guitar, a used $35 Silvertone acoustic with strings about a half-inch off the fret board—my fingers bled for weeks! Life ain't been the same since, and I sincerely thank Alice Cooper for my blessed conversion to the dark side!
Have an ominous All Hallows' Eve, everyone!