Of all the people you would have predicted to write teenage
anthems in the early- to mid-’70s, who would have put their money
on Alice Cooper?
The father of shock-rock first caught the eardrums of teenage
America with “I’m Eighteen,” then followed it up with the ultimate
summer vacation anthem, “School’s Out”. In 1973, Cooper looked to
keep that streak alive with
Billion Dollar Babies, and while there are some rather tasty
tracks on this album, it also was a sign that the machine might
have been running out of gas.
Packaged in a sleeve that was designed to look like a snakeskin
wallet,
Billion Dollar Babies is best remembered for “No More Mr.
Nice Guy,” a song that still ranks as one of Cooper’s best works
ever, and the title track which features the work of the
hurdy-gurdy man himself, Donovan (though I can’t tell where the
hell he came in on that song).
The songs on
Billion Dollar Babies showed that Cooper could still turn
surprising tricks in stories (such as the subject matter of “Raped
And Freezin’, which dares to make a woman the aggressor), surprise
people with stories that have morals (“Unfinished Sweet,” a song
which shows why I refuse to visit the dentist) and even make the
stomach of your mind turn a bit (“Sick Things,” “I Love The Dead”).
For that matter, am I the only person in the world who thinks it
would be the perfect matchup to have Cooper and Marilyn Manson
co-headline a tour together?
But for all of the strengths on
Billion Dollar Babies, there are equal amounts of weakness.
The album’s opener, “Hello Hooray” is not the strongest way to kick
off an album, while “Elected,” a song which could have been a
killer track (and could have even been a theme had Cooper decided
to run for office), just doesn’t live up to the expectations I had
for it. It’s not a bad song, it’s just nothing special.
The second side has some of the weaker material, such as
“Generation Landslide” and “Mary-Ann”. Even “I Love The Dead” is a
bit too macabre for me – if I wanted detail that graphic, I’d go
rent
Faces Of Death and lose my lunch all over the couch. (For
that matter, the dust sleeve photo of the baby made up to look like
Alice – well, I thought it was kind of sick, to tell the truth. The
kid didn’t look too happy, and the makeup looked like Tammy Faye
Bakker’s runny mascara while her slimebag husband was busy lying to
people.)
The overall sound of the album, despite production work from Bob
Ezrin, is a bit muddy, though I’m willing to concede this to my old
vinyl copy that’s been in the Pierce Archives for some two years
now, waiting for me to listen to it. The CD could sound better, I
don’t know.
Billion Dollar Babies most likely will be a welcome addition
to the collection of any diehard Alice Cooper fan, but for someone
who’s just dabbling in his music, you might be best off picking up
the greatest hits album, then coming back to this one if only for
“Unfinished Sweet”.
