Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. Well folks, Halloween has arrived early this year because Alice Cooper is in town! And by “in town”, I mean an hour and a half away in Rockford. That means there’s roughly 80 miles between yours truly and the Coop, but that’s never stopped me in the past. Besides, I make an effort to catch Good Ol’ Black Eyes at least once a year. Hopefully one of these days his camp will finally give him permission to talk to me (trust me, I’m WAY cooler than Eddie Trunk). Until then, we “remember the Coop” with this week’s retrospective essay, in which we travel 35 years back in time to the release of his multi-platinum pop metal monolith, Trash. Oh yeah, we’re about to get dirty alright.
The latter half of the ’80s were an intriguing time for Vincent Furnier, better known to the masses as Alice Cooper. After nearly dying not long after the release of his final “blackout” album, DaDa, Furnier went into a self-imposed exile. He was clean and sober, this time for good, and most importantly, born again. With his devoted wife Sheryl and two young children at his side, Furnier was determined to leave the dark persona of Cooper, an onstage character who’d go onto consume his very soul like a real life Mr. Hyde, in the past.
While this might have been a happy ending for Furnier himself, I can’t help but wonder how drastically the course of rock history would’ve been altered had it been the ending. Just the prospect of Alice Cooper existing purely in the past tense, parents like mine and others of my era regaling tales of yesterday’s glories: “Once upon a time, there was this crazy rockstar who killed chickens, cradled snakes, and got his head cut off every single night.” The idea of such a larger than life phenomenon merely vanishing into thin air is unthinkable. And that’s exactly what would’ve happened, had it not been for MTV.
A couple years into the Cooper hiatus and the powers that be started pushing for a comeback. The year was 1986 and both record labels and promoters alike knew the commercial potential for a full blown Alice Cooper comeback. Heavy metal had reached a fever pitch, with nearly every other band achieving megadome headliner status for at least a summer. Even the “lower tier” bands were scoring platinum albums, or at the very least significant airplay on rock radio and MTV. With a back catalog of hits and an infamous legacy under his belt, the potential for an Alice Cooper comeback was extraordinary.
That comeback finally arrived on Halloween, 1986. Broadcast live to millions via MTV, Alice Cooper emerged from his crypt, lean, mean, and clean, direct from a sold out Cobo Hall in Detroit, Michigan. The show ignited a series of sold out performances for Cooper all around the country that ran well into ’87 and ’88. Once again, the Coop was a main attraction, staging his legendary production nightly to a whole new generation who never got to experience him in the ’70s. Ideally, this live success should’ve translated to an equally successful studio career resurrection; it didn’t.
For whatever reason or another, both Constrictor (1986) and Raise Your Fist and Yell (1987) were commercial failures, failing to even go gold in the Coop’s native US of A. How? Wasn’t this the same country that showered our beloved villain with multi-platinum albums and ungodly stacks of cash (“Billion Dollar Babies”) just 15 years earlier? Geographically speaking, yes. The similarities end there. The harsh reality is the very demographic who made Alice Cooper rich in the early ’70s were now grown men and women with jobs, children, and real world responsibilities. It’s the same reason why other ’70s giants like Black Sabbath, Uriah Heep, and Blue Öyster Cult faced stagnating recording careers in the late ’80s.
Besides, if a headbanger kid was gonna spend their hard earned allowance on a new cassette, it was going to be from a band they already knew and loved like Mötley Crüe or Ratt, not Alice Cooper. Therein lied the solution. While both Constrictor and Raise Your Fist and Yell boast some certified classics (“The World Needs Guts”, “Freedom”, Roses on White Lace”, etc.), they were far from what one would call “commercial friendly”. If anything, it was the dark, sinister Cooper edge of the ’70s reimagined through an ’80s traditional metal filter. The question remained: How could Cooper take said edge and refine it into something commercially viable? Enter Epic.
After back to back studio failures, Cooper parted ways with MCA, then affectionally labeled the “Music Cemetery of America” by many within the industry. He then signed to Epic Records, who were hellbent on giving him a full blown career rehaul. After all, this wasn’t just about making their new veteran client satisfied, but gaining a return on their investment tenfold. The result of said rehaul was the ironically titled Trash. Largely helmed by in-demand song doctor Desmond Child, Trash was a now or never, hail Mary pass of an album. Sure, the argument could be made that because of Child and company’s heavy involvement, this album could’ve (and would’ve) been made by some other hairspray headed star of the day. However, Trash is Cooper’s and Cooper’s alone, and the world off because of it.
Now I’d like to preface this album analysis by saying I’ve long been critical of Child’s creative relationship with Aerosmith. Granted, I don’t solely blame him for the band’s metamorphosis from sleaze rock gods to generic corporate rockers, but he definitely played a part in that transition. There’s definitely reason to believe he’d do the same with Cooper, and perhaps it can be argued that traces of this even appear on Trash. Yet in the case of Alice Cooper, it’s as if Child wrote the lyrics and melodies taking the subject’s past triumphs into consideration, resulting in a collection of songs that aren’t just a modernization of a past entity, but a continuation.
Trash with a massive leadoff smash in “Poison”. If the melody sounds familiar to you hard rock aficionados, that’s because it is. An early incarnation of the song appeared on AOR hero John Waite’s fourth album, Rover’s Return (1987), under the moniker “Encircled”. After that track failed to cause any waves a couple years earlier, Child wrote a new set of lyrics and rearranged the music, giving the new and improved rendition to Cooper. With his signature vocal snarl coupled with sexually charged lyrics (a common theme of the era and this album) and a gigantic arena metal atmosphere, “Poison” became one of the biggest hits of Cooper’s career, catapulting to number 7 on the Billboard Hot 100.
The party continues with the raucous “Spark in the Dark”. Although this cut isn’t as lush or ominous as “Poison”, it does an excellent job capturing the spirit of the era. It’s loud and proud, overflowing with contagious energy and daring the listener to turn down the volume dial. Every aspect, from the choruses to the riffs to the guitar solos to the layered vocals, is massive, and yet it doesn’t feel like sonic overkill. For songs of these nature, minimalism simply would not do. Cooper found himself right at home in this burgeoning glam/pop/arena metal niche, and probably internally wondered where this production dream team was three years earlier.
Remember earlier how I said some of these songs would’ve found their way onto record regardless? Our next cut is an example of that. “House of Fire” was originally demoed by Bon Jovi for their behemoth New Jersey (1988). Considering that album boasted 5 hit singles, this very well could’ve become #6. Lucky for us, Alice Cooper released it instead, laying down a far more convincing vocal performance than Mr. “Livin’ on a Prayer” ever could. Although Cooper’s rendition didn’t crack the pop charts like “Poison”, it did set both rock radio and MTV ablaze, as would a handful of other songs off this very release.
Slick synths, reverbed drums, and gang choruses aside, “Why Trust You” sounds a tad stripped down in comparison to what we’ve been treated to thus far. Maybe it’s just me, but it’s simple and straightforward arrangement reminds me of an early Alice Cooper rocker like “Under My Wheels” or “Be My Lover”, albeit ’80s-fied. Even the lyrics are tongue in cheek in true Cooper tradition (“You’d try to sell the Bible to the devil himself.” / “You can stuff it up your muffin and go stick it in the fire.”) Indeed, the Coop was back and here to stay.
Closing out side A is none other than the obligatory power ballad, “Only My Heart Talkin'”. Is it played out, predictable, cliché even? Not really, but it’s not nearly as compelling as past Cooper ballads like “Only Women Bleed”, “The Quiet Room”, or “I Never Cry” either. The presence of Steven Tyler on backing vocals makes us suspect that at one point this was considered for an Aerosmith album, likely Pump, which was also a mega-seller of ’89. Before we flip over to side B, we’ve come to grips with the fact that Cooper has fully embraced the late ’80s pop metal ethos, cranking out headbangers, pop rockers, and power ballads with equal measure and conviction. Why not brace ourselves for even more?
The latter half commences with the album’s heaviest cut, and my personal favorite, “Bed of Nails”. This right here is a masterclass in glam metal, with an emphasis on “metal”. Recently departed Cooper axe-slinger Kane Roberts returns for a farewell performance of sorts and it is absolutely glorious. From beginning to end, this is one of the most perfectly constructed songs of the era period. I’m talking Whitesnake ’87 caliber of excellence, and I’ll die on that hill. Alice, if you’re reading this, thank you for keeping it in your setlist after all these years.
The sly and streetwise “This Maniac’s in Love with You” boasts a four on the floor cool that, despite being characteristic of its era, Cooper owns. As I said, even the “generic” moments on Trash don’t feel nearly as painful as those of say one of the D grade Poison clones that record labels were starting to pimp around now. Besides, just get a load of the title: “This Maniac’s in Love with You”. Who else could put out a song with a title like that besides Alice Cooper?
Sleazy and funkalicious, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why “Trash” became the album’s moniker as opposed to “Poison” or “House of Fire”. By this point in his career, Cooper had spent the better part of two decades being branded “trash” by parents, politicians, teachers, and religious groups alike. With tongue planted firmly in cheek, just like when he wrote “No More Mr. Nice Guy” all those years ago, Cooper approached “Trash” with an “If we can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” attitude. It’s too bad this fun rocker has since been relegated to deep track status. Hopefully this essay helps excavate it from obscurity.
Holding up his end of the “one ballad per album side” deal that was standard issue for major label metal/hard rock bands of the day, Cooper explores his sensitive side again, this time far more passionately, on “Hell is Living Without You”. Spacey, ethereal, and vast in arrangement and delivery, one can’t help but lose themselves in those choir vocals, delicate strings, and melodically intricate leads. It’s proof positive that even come ’89, it was possible for a hard and heavy act to crank out a power ballad that wasn’t generic or forced.
Closing it all out is a fast and frenetic rocker in “I’m Your Gun”. If other songs on Trash boasted mere hints of the Alice Cooper band’s chaotic heyday, then “I’m Your Gun” is a flat out homage to said heyday. Strip away the ’80s production and this bad boy would’ve fit right in on Love It to Death (1971) or Killer (1971). Punky and breakneck, one forgets how Alice Cooper’s influence extended from bands like Sex Pistols and Dead Boys to Hanoi Rocks and Mötley Crüe. Dare I say the Coop was and still is the middle ground between punk and glam?
Needless to say, Trash exploded all across the globe and Alice Cooper was finally back, for real this time. Roughly half of the album gained regular rotation on rock radio and MTV, and it would go onto sell well over a million copies in America alone. While Alice Cooper would never have a commercial triumph as great as Trash again (thus far), it’s arguably the album that has kept the wind in his sails to this day. Whereas many of his peers slave away on the casino and county fair circuit, Cooper continues to play arenas, amphitheaters, festivals, and theaters all across the globe to a legion of adoring fans: Fans who love nothing more than a load of piping hot Trash. Who woulda thunk?
One of my top five favorite Coop albums!!