Alice Cooper, The Cult and Creeper live at the OVO Hydro, Glasgow.

Billion Dollar Babies Michael Fairbairn and John Scott head out to see Creeper, The Cult and Alice Cooper.  Alice has his guillotine in tow but can he still cut the mustard?

Words: Michael Fairbairn. Photos: John Scott

The last time Alice Cooper played here in his own right, in late 2017, he pulled a respectable crowd for this huge venue. On the evidence of the much more sizeable turnout this evening, tonight’s show has been a real hot ticket. Rightly so, as this promises to be a lineup and a half.

Ostensibly, this tour has been billed as a co-headliner, featuring the shock-rock ringmaster pairing up with rock icons, The Cult, and rounded off by the recent addition of relative newcomers, Creeper. The seats fill up quickly, while some of the more excitable, eager, and younger fans, who appear to be in the minority, for the most part, scramble to stand at the front of the stage in readiness for the forthcoming triple-whammy rock show.

The anticipation is tangible.

“We are a band called Creeper and we appreciate you being here to give our band a shot,” says their enigmatic and charismatic frontman, Will Gould as they kick off tonight’s proceedings. Despite the presence of numerous T-Shirts and hoodies emblazoned with their Misfits-esque, pseudo-horror-schtick logo and artwork, it is fair to say the majority of people in the crowd will have been largely-unfamiliar with this quintet, until now. A brief 25 minutes for a support slot wouldn’t ordinarily be enough time to win over an audience salivating in readiness for the established main acts, especially in an arena of this magnitude. Creeper isn’t a new, inexperienced band though; having worked hard since their inception in 2014, honing their stagecraft and being no strangers to performing in front of large crowds. The band members are brimming with confidence and energy and are very much up for the challenge of winning over the ‘Cult of Alice’ diehards, something they manage to achieve with the panache of a seasoned act.

Their brand of goth-punk/rock crossed with theatrical 70s glam makes them the ideal band to kick off this show.  This is best displayed on ‘Thorns of Love’ with its 50s-tinged guitar interplay between Ian Miles and touring member, Lawrie Pattison, alongside the Roy Orbison-like beat from Sean Scott and John Gogarty on bass and drums, respectively.  Wrap that all up along with the aesthetics of slicked-back quiff and leather biker jackets and you get a thrilling concoction. Gould is an endearingly-polite and engaging frontman, perhaps with a more handsome, Danny Zuko-like, bad boy ‘attitood’ than Glenn Danzig’s actual bad attitude and ‘social misfit’ tendencies.  That is no slight on Creeper’s leader though, who relishes his role of frontman and is unfazed by the size of the crowd before him.   He manages to get them on board after just the first couple of songs with the audience participation chant of the uplifting, dark pop-punk-fuelled ‘Down Below’.

The band quickly follows that up with ‘Midnight’, which is a wonderful duet featuring co-singer and keyboardist, Hannah Greenwood, who also has a fabulous voice. Greenwood and Gould complement each other perfectly on a track that could have come right out of the Jim Steinman songbook.  Creeper’s five-song set comes to an all too brief, ‘blink and you’ll miss it’, close with the instantly-likable, ‘Annabelle’, which has to be one of the best, ‘Brit Pop’ era songs that never was. While this band knows their current place as the warm-up act on this tour, and humbly acknowledge the privileged opportunity to play alongside two of their self-confessed favourites, they appear to have their sights set firmly on the lofty headline spot.  Stranger things may just happen for these guys and gal. Keep on, keeping on.

The Cult is up next and there is an air of expectation. What version of the band will be present? The early 80s goth rock pioneers? The posturing, cock-rock pinups from the heyday of big guitars and even bigger hair or the darker, more-experimental latter-day musings of mainstays, Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy?  To say this is a band with an ever-changing style, checkered past and a revolving door of musicians, would be a total understatement.  As the house lights darken, a short intro of the brooding and gut-rumbling, ‘Angel’ by Massive Attack sets the tone while dark figures amble onto the dimly-lit stage before launching into ‘Sun King’ with aplomb. The band members seem to be lean, focused and determined to deliver a strong rock show, as it soon becomes clear they have opted to continue focusing heavily on a set that celebrates the 30th-anniversary edition release of their career-defining album, ‘Sonic Temple’.  When ‘Sweet Soul Sister’ arrives, with its mid-tempo rock pulse and familiar arena-filling chorus, things start to liven up.

These guys do have a few genuinely cracking songs in their repertoire and have proven themselves to be more than just one-trick ponies over the years. Something seems up with Astbury though, as he appears distracted by some unseen issue within the first few minutes of their show.  From here on in, he postures and preens about the stage like an angry animal out for blood; victims in his sight appear to range from venue security staff in front of the stage to his own microphone stand and other equipment.  Piss and vinegar is to be expected from a rock and roll frontman but tonight it seems somewhat forced.  Some of Astbury’s ‘issues’ seem to be of his making in a sort of faux vitriol. It makes for enthralling entertainment though.

The band is wise to stick to songs from their most commercially successful period, between 1985-90, knowing, as they likely do, that this is not exactly their own crowd.  “Don’t worry, we’ll be back at Barrowlands soon” and, “How is it in the seats? Have you all got your comfy cushions?”, grumbles Astbury through apparent gritted teeth.  He does seem intent on engaging with the audience though, trying to rally everyone on by reaching out from the edge of the stage. Telling us that he has Scottish roots, much of his between-song banter is carried out in a fake Scots accent.  “Come on ye fuckers,” he cajoles us, sounding like some long-lost relative of Groundskeeper Willie.

Despite Astbury’s air of petulance, the band transition to their simple, AC/DC-influenced rock numbers with ease.  ‘L’il Devil’, the rock club-dance floor-filling hit of yore, gets the biggest cheer yet and still gets the rock crowd going in a sort-of reminiscing of the glory days sort of way.  ‘Fire Woman’ keeps up that excitement and proves to be a real highlight before they take things back further for a trio of back-to-back numbers from their classic ‘Love’ album, which sees the ever cool as a cucumber Duffy slip on his trademark Gretsch White Falcon. He peals out that instantly-recognisable opening guitar figure from ‘She Sells Sanctuary’ getting everyone’s attention and it’s like vintage-era Cult in their prime.  “Now, that’s a rock show!”, spits Astbury, seemingly unaware that he is about to be followed on stage by Alice fucking Cooper.  Exit stage left, stopping briefly to knock over a speaker stack.  Tortured angst or petulant posturing?  Either way, it brings a strong set by The Cult to a dramatic close.

The stage is set for, let’s face it, tonight’s true headline act and main attraction. A huge curtain bearing the ‘Eyes of Alice Cooper’ hides the cornucopia of treats soon to be revealed and the genuine party atmosphere really starts to kick in, with the sense that something special is on its way. After two years of frustration, it’s no surprise that people would be up for a real release and any form of escapism and fun. An explosive, pyrotechnic opening confirms that is exactly what’s in store. ‘Feed My Frankenstein’ is pure dumb fun swiftly followed by ‘No More Mr Nice Guy’, which gets everyone up on their feet.  It’s all big, bombastic, colourful and downright enjoyable, with The Godfather of Shock Rock looking resplendent; suited and booted in his black leather militaria outfit.

His excellent band also looks to be in their element. They clearly love their jobs and it speaks volumes for this gig and Alice as an employer that this lineup has been in place going on eight-plus years since Nita Strauss on guitar augmented the already established group of tight-knit musicians. The longest-standing, consistent member is the uber-cool Chuck Garric on bass, who resembles Wolverine crossed with Lemmy, having been the right-hand man to Cooper for some twenty-odd years. Glen Sobel behind the kit is also superb, giving the rock that much-needed roll and swing.  The three (count them) guitarists display fantastic interplay, trading off parts and solos for ‘Under My Wheels’ as they all beam from ear to ear with great, big smiles. Ryan Roxie, Tommy Henriksen and the aforementioned Nita Strauss, “Voted guitarist of the decade”, as her boss later announces when introducing the band, all bring something unique and special to the table, performing like their lives depend on it and looking like the larger-than-life characters you would hope to witness as part of a spectacle such as this.

Spectacular, it truly is!  For anyone who may have been fortunate enough to see this show before, there are still some surprises alongside the must-have numbers, with rarely-aired deep cuts from the late 80s, such as ‘Roses on White Lace’ and some of the best, muscular cuts from more recent albums, ‘Paranormal’ and ‘Detroit Stories’; proving that Alice isn’t just resting on his laurels and trading on past glories. Elsewhere, it’s like a veritable jukebox of rock classics: ‘I’m Eighteen’ (will that soon be, ‘I’m Eighty’?), ‘Billion Dollar Babies’ and ‘Dead Babies’. For anyone in need of an antidote from the earlier onstage aggro, there is a huge cheer as Alice urges, “Raise your hands if you’re poison.” Ach, go on then!!

None of this should be taken too seriously, as it’s all about a well-oiled, theatrical performance with its set pieces and vaudevillian charm. What’s not to appreciate about a stage set forming a miniature castle, dungeon and torture chamber, complete with turret, coffin, skulls and flames? Beyond that, there’s a gigantic Alice, a massive ‘dead’ baby in a huge nappy, Alice dollars being fired from a canon, as well as characters such as a ghostly, ‘lady in white’ expertly performed by Sheryl Cooper, Alice’s wife of more than 40 years. The main man himself parades around his stage like a performer significantly younger in years and his raspy singing sneer is as appealing as it ever was.  Countless costume changes, including the straightjacket he dons for an enticing rendition of ‘Steven’ from ‘Welcome To My Nightmare’, along with having your head chopped off by guillotine night after night could be fatiguing for lesser mortals.  The evening is brought to a close by the inevitable School’s Out, mashed up with Pink Floyd’s Another Brick In The Wall, as Alice wields his sabre to pop huge confetti-filled balloons over the crowd,   Vincent Furnier may be 74 years young but alter ego Alice is ageless and shows no signs of slowing down or retiring any time soon. Long may he rock. See you again soon, Coop.

Setlist

Feed My Frankenstein

No More Mr Nice Guy

Bed of Nails

Hey Stoopid

Fallen in Love

Shut Up and Rock

Go Man Go

Under My Wheels

Not a Strauss Guitar Solo

Roses on White Lace

I’m Eighteen

Poison

Billion Dollar Babies

Black Widow Jam [With Drum Solo]

Steven

Dead Babies

I Love the Dead

Escape

Teenage Frankenstein

School’s Out (including Another Brick in The Wall)