So, given all that, plus the fact that Alice went back on
his no marriage policy, dissed on Republicans (which he is one now), admitted
to jerking off into a jelly donut which he then gave to his sister, expressed a
blatantly cavalier attitude towards his girlfriend getting an abortion, and a
bunch of other The Dirt-tier sexual
escapades which probably embarrassed his family, close friends, and fellow
church members, it’s not hard to see why Alice probably would prefer if Me, Alice would stay out of print in
perpetuity.
Strangely enough, the biggest shock for me, and I’m not
being facetious at all when I say this, is reading Alice Cooper swearing so
much. That’s probably another reason he’s happy to see Me, Alice go out of print; because Alice always speaks like a
gentleman in interviews, trying to portray himself more like, say, old-timey
entertainers like Fred Astaire or Groucho Marx than just your stereotypically
uncultured, foul-mouthed rock musician.
Furthermore, anyone who thought the man who sings “Only
Women Bleed” isn’t the type of sleazy
goon who would sodomize a groupie with a fish might balk at such classy
statements as, ahem, “I got sadistic blow jobs where I thought the girl was
going to rip the skin off my cock with her teeth and soft, sensual blow jobs
where I had to look twice to make sure the chick hadn't slipped her false teeth
out and she was gumming me. I must have shot, I'm pleased to say, gallons and
gallons of come into hundreds of mouths.” Not to mention that, the Alice
entourage also read off a nightly “ball score”, which isn’t referring to
sports.
Alice also LOVES big tits. If you wanna know whether Alice
is a boob or butt guy, well, you get your answer over and over and over again.
I guess it also wouldn’t hurt to mention that, considering
the book was written in 1976, Alice uses the language of the day, which is to
say, he uses words that would be considered “hate speech” in the modern parlance.
This is a third reason why I think Alice would probably prefer if Me, Alice remained out of print.
But offensive language notwithstanding, Me, Alice is an indispensable read for Alice Cooper fans.
Considering the book is only about 260 pages long and was written shortly after
the Welcome to My Nightmare tour, it provides far more insight into
Alice’s early career, the post-hippie rock scene, and the music industry in the
70s than his more recent PG-rated, profanity-free, and light on details memoir Golf Monster.
For instance, any Alice Cooper fan knows that Bob Ezrin helped sculpt the Alice Cooper band into a tight hard rocking combo that spit out a nearly flawless series of LPs from 1971 to 1973. However, I had no idea just how meticulously crafted Love It to Death was. Alice Cooper literally recorded the album bit by little bit, sending a handful of songs to Warner Bros. - who didn’t at first believe this was the same Alice Cooper they “inherited” from Frank Zappa’s dissolved Straight-Bizarre label - at a time before getting approval to finish the album. Furthermore, “Eighteen” was released as a single before Love It to Death was even finished!
Internet music critic Mark Prindle said in his review of Love It to Death, “One of the larger
mysteries in the history of rock is what exactly happened between 1970 and 1971
to make the Alice Cooper Band so goddarned good. Was it their sudden move to
KISS's fabled Detroit Rock City?” Well, Mark, and rest of the world, there ya
go. But don’t take MY word for it! Read Alice’s sleazy, foul-mouthed memoir
instead!
Alice also talks about his early life, which involves his
family’s crisscrossing across the country, bouts with sickness, his father’s
heavy church involvement, and LOTS of jerking off. He also tells the entire
story of how his band, originally called the Earwigs – who became the Spiders
who became the Nazz who became Alice Cooper – went from doing goofy Beatles
parodies for their 1964 high school talent show to becoming the most popular
band in the world by 1972, only to burn out and break up in 1974.
And, yes, Alice talks about all the important characters in
his life story; his hustler manager Shep Gordon, Frank Zappa, who never took the
Alice Cooper band seriously and wanted to call them Alice Cookies, the other
four members of the Alice Cooper band, and a few friends and roadies who most
people will forget about shortly after reading the book. He even does sort of a
mea culpa regarding his using the Alice Cooper name as HIS name, which
inevitably turned him into the main attraction and made lead guitarist Glen
Buxton, rhythm guitarist/keyboardist Michael Bruce, bassist Dennis Dunaway, and
drummer Neil Smith just seem like backup musicians; he even vaguely acknowledges
how Michael Bruce wrote the riffs which would make him a multimillionaire.
At the end of day, the Alice Cooper who wrote Me, Alice IS pretty much the same Alice
as the one today. He tells the chicken story the same exact way he always did. His
drug of choice was always booze (except in the early 80s when he was blown out
on coke). He claims, as always, that Alice Cooper is just a stage character and
that he’s not like that in real life. He lauds Detroit as the hard rock capitol
of the world. And, even as early as 1976, he’s an avid golfer.
It’s just that he also likes to swear and talk about his
dick a lot. Oh, and tits.
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