Alice Cooper '80, Flush The Fashion

I suppose a new wave take on Alice Cooper wasn't the worst idea in the world — but then maybe it was since it wasn't ever repeated, even though producer Roy Thomas Baker basically used the same template for the Cars. To balance out the sudden shift in style and his soporific snarl on the back cover neither Baker nor Cooper stray far from his usual topics (drugs and social contempt) nor his usual instrumentation, and wisely just let the synths be ornaments. I like lead-in cover "Talk Talk" and the zippy single "Clones (We're All)" takes only the musical liberties it can get away with; the old verve is back in the almost anthemic "Pain," and I laughed out loud at the sly self-referential wordplay in "Aspirin Damage" ("I've got a Bayer/on my back"). Plus, "Nuclear Infected" could practically be "No More Mr. Nice Guy" for a Three Mile Island generation. Unfortunately the novelty starts leaking out of the music around that point, and while none of the remaining tracks (except the out-of-place "Leather Boots" in the first half) are incompetent they're also not very compelling. That's actually the real problem with this album: at 28 minutes and change he can't afford any clinkers, and since this was one of the few albums he does remember recording, he's simply got no excuse. (Content: drug references, mild adult themes.)

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Alice Cooper, Billion Dollar Babies

Who puts snakeskin on an LP gatefold? The same kind of man who would sing about necrophilia, that's who. But don't let that scare you off, necessarily: there's also a fabulous reworking of an earlier track as "Elected" (whose snark and brass section deserve airplay every November), tables turned with male sexual harassment in "Raped And Freezin'" and no doubt a vignette of Cooper's daily life in "No More Mr. Nice Guy," which really must be simultaneously experienced in the so-tacky-it's-great Pat Boone cover. But, yes, the creepy stuff. If you have the stomach for this sort of satire, what's notable is how, uh, tactfully it's approached: there's just enough menace in "Billion Dollar Babies" (and Donovan on guest vocals) to get the point across, just enough implication in "I Love The Dead" to hint not all is platonic. Only "Sick Things" gets a little too literal and "Generation Landslide"'s topical content gets boring and preachy. Nevertheless, do remember this album's not for everyone; there's even a song about the horrors of the dental chair, complete with groans and drill ("Unfinished Sweet"). Sir, at long last, is it safe? (Content: adult themes.)

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