Alice Cooper goes overboard comparing the new Dirty Diamonds album to his classic ’70s LPs

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON OCT. 13, 2005

By Steve Newton

Over the years, pioneering shock-rocker Alice Cooper has portrayed countless characters in song, from confused adolescent (“Eighteen”) to power-mad politician (“Elected”), from street-gang leader (“Gutter Cat vs. the Jets”) to straitjacketed loonie (“The Ballad of Dwight Fry”).

But when he calls from Florida, Cooper quickly assumes the role of a fast-talking salesman, shamelessly flogging his new CD, Dirty Diamonds.

“The album is great,” he claims straightaway. “It’s one of those albums that is just going back to an era that was fun to write in. We were saying, ‘Okay, why don’t we revisit Billion Dollar Babies and why don’t we revisit Love It to Death, Killer, School’s Out-you know, really good little three- or four-minute songs.’

“We’re all good writers,” he continues, “so the object on this one was, ‘Let’s write the song in the morning, take a lunch break, record the song in the afternoon, and put the vocal on at night. No overdubs. Let’s let the song be the song, and let’s not turn it into what it’s not.’

“And I think that’s why people listen to it and they’re going, ‘Well, this just sounds like a really good garage band.’?”

As much as Cooper may have earned his massive ego, he goes too far by brazenly comparing his new CD to masterworks like Love It to Death and Billion Dollar Babies. Dirty Diamonds doesn’t come close to being the garage-rock classic Killer was. When I tell him that I just don’t see the likeness, he takes another tack.

“In this case I think what it is, though, is the fact that most bands that you hear now are drunk on technology. A song like ‘Billion Dollar Babies’ was based on a drum hook; ‘School’s Out’ was based on a riff: ‘Da-da-dah da-da-dah da-da-da-daaah’. And I love songs like ‘No More Mr. Nice Guy’. It’s got a great opening; it’s got a great verse; it’s got a great payoff chorus line. So I said, ‘Let’s write 12 of those.’ And that’s pretty much what we got.”

A dozen “No More Mr. Nice Guy”s? Not likely. That tune is timeless; his new ones aren’t. But there’s no point in debating the overconfident Coop, so I change the subject.

Knowing he’s a big fan of Vancouver novelist Michael Slade-the pseudonym for criminal lawyer-turned-author Jay Clarke and his daughter, Rebecca-I ask if he’s heard anything about Slade’s next book, Swastika.

“I didn’t know he had a new one coming out,” says Cooper, “but his other stuff was really good. I mean, it was before CSI; the whole forensic thing about the psycho killer, that’s what made it so gripping-it was just so strong and scary. I kept sayin’, ‘How come this isn’t a movie?’?”

Cooper brings his own scary show to the Orpheum on Wednesday (October 19), featuring a band that includes former Brother Cane guitarist Damon Johnson and long-time Kiss drummer Eric Singer. When asked about the theatrical aspects of his current tour, that greasy guy in the polyester leisure suit shows up again.

“I call this the Kitchen-Sink Tour,” he brags, “because it’s got the guillotine, the snake, the straitjacket, the disappearing-coffin trick. Paris Hilton. You know, I mean the show does everything.

“So if you’re not satisfied with Alice Cooper in this show, then there’s just something wrong with you.”

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