“We're Going to Make the Rolling Stones Look Like Choirboys.”
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“We’re going to make The Rolling Stones look like choirboys.” Alice Cooper lice Cooper still looks like a witch: long, raggedy arms, a thatch of crow-feather hair and a large Captain Hook beaked nose. Even without his kohl eye make-up, his grey-blueA eyes wink out just like they did on his million-selling ’70s album covers. His face is creased and his skin is a little looser, but Alice doesn’t look that different from how he did when he was a threat to American decency. He’s tremendously easy company – warm, gracious and happy to retell well-worn stories, and laughing while he does. You can imagine him holding court with The Hollywood Vampires (his 1970s fraternity of terrifyingly hard-drinking musicians that included Keith Moon, Harry Nilsson and John Lennon), and you can see why celebrities like Johnny Depp regard him as a close friend. Smart and slightly self-effacing, he’s also surprisingly similar to his cameo in Wayne’s World, where he played the dignified elder statesman of rock lecturing his stunned fans with expert detail about the pre-settle- ment history of America. Vincent Damon Furnier may be a sophisticated and sober sixty-eight-year-old, golf-obsessed Republican, but he speaks with real fondness about Alice, often referring to him in the third person. Hearing about the height of his fame (and let’s not forget he was face-on-a-lunchbox, TV-holiday-special, Marvel-comic-about- your-exploits famous), it’s obvious he relishes the controversy he caused, but he never set out to corrupt anyone – only to entertain them. And I think that’s why Alice Cooper’s image works. He is a character played for a lifetime by a great actor who has grown to genuinely love the role; a theatrical vaudeville villain who still delights in scaring us. And we love to be scared. 11 “I didn’t mind success. But that was never really the object.” Chrissie Hynde hrissie Hynde is preparing to perform for a small audi- ence in a London bookshop. I’m hosting a Q&A before an acoustic set marking the release of her autobiography, CReckless. We’ve been sorting out timings, seating and her route from the dressing room. Dull, necessary details that Chrissie engag- es with politely, but with a noticeable mood of ‘Is all this really necessary? Just point me at the stage.’ But when soundcheck starts, her attitude totally changes. She’s happy and completely focused: playing over phrases until they feel right, pitching arrangement and harmony ideas with her guitarist, bitching good-naturedly at the soundman. Then, looking up from under her famous fringe, she grins, says, ‘That’s it!’ and strides off to find some tea. Which is all you need to know about Chrissie Hynde. Much more than a celebrity, hero or a style icon, she is first and foremost a musician. Everything else simply happened as a result of her love of rock and roll. For someone with a reputation for being a tough interviewee, she’s enormously easy to speak to. She’s direct and reflective, with an endless enthusiasm for other musicians. She’s witnessed, or been within yelling distance of, an amazing number of historic moments in music history – the British beat explosion in the United States, the birth of garage rock and the moment punk happened – but she’s got little interest in the social significance of the events; for her, it’s only ever about the impact of songs. Likewise, she seems unaware of (or chooses to ignore) her own importance as a songwriter. Her impressive back catalogue is simply the product of being a working musician: finding like-minded people, getting in a van, playing gigs and getting good. The Q&A at the bookshop goes well enough. Chrissie is funny, frank and, much to the delight of the audience, shoots down my more pretentious questions. But more than once during the conver- sation I notice her glance over my shoulder, to the back of the stage, to where the guitars are set up. Waiting. 67 Matt Everitt: When were you first aware of music as a kid? What was your first guitar like? I can remember being in the kitchen in Cuyahoga Falls [Ohio], so I must Well, I first had a baritone ukulele, which I think my parents gave to me have been three. A song called ‘Love and Marriage’ came on the radio. as an Easter present. Then I had one friend and she had a guitar, and we I think it was a Frank Sinatra song. The reason I remember it is because started trying to play together. My first guitar was called a Zim Gar. It the actual lyric goes, ‘Love and marriage, go together like a horse and was a great big hollow-body, nylon-string, classical-type thing. And I carriage.’ But as a two- or three-year-old, I heard ‘horse and carrot’, and had real little hands; it was real hard for me. But that’s good to learn on, I had this image of an enormous carrot whenever I heard that song. Years because it makes your hands stronger. later I realized I had the lyric wrong and then I realized that’s rock and roll, you know? You make up your own words. Did you have guitar heroes? I wanted to play like all of them, but I never thought I could. And I Was music always an appealing thing? couldn’t jam with anyone because they were guys, and I was too shy to Yeah. I think there’s certain things that you bring into the world from play with guys. So I just kind of stayed by myself. I wasn’t good enough birth. And you can’t deny those things. People have different things they to play along to records, which is how most people learn. Still can’t. like. And for me, music really was the life-changing thing. Music and I had a Mel Bay book of chords. So that’s how I learned – by looking animals. I also always had that thing … you know? Animal rights people, at the chord charts – but I found out early on that if you only knew a they’ll always say that. Nurses, too. couple of chords you could make your own melody up around it. So I got sidetracked doing that. I guess that’s how I started songwriting. As for What is the first record you owned? my guitar heroes … I loved at the time Johnny Winter; Mike Bloomfield, I can remember where I was standing when I saw the first Beatles record who played with The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, was a hero; John in this big discount house where my parents used to shop. ‘I Want to Hammond Jr; James Brown is probably my number one. James Brown Hold Your Hand’ – that might have been one of the first ones. But before was my big, big hero. that, I bought a song by Freddy Cannon called ‘Palisades Park’, sort of a fairground-sounding thing, and The Orlons, ‘South Street’. What about the first album? “They had the same punch-up, and I Oh, that’s a big one. I think one of the first songs was Mitch Ryder and realized it was staged. And that was, The Detroit Wheels. I think someone gave it to me for my birthday. The like, the coolest thing I’d ever seen.” first Beatles album, that was my period. It might sound kind of benign now. They had blues through America. And it just … it didn’t sound like The Beach Boys! But there were harmonies. It just was different. It was English! English was magic. It still is. What’s left of it. What James Brown song we should play? The great thing about James Brown is that he could write a song around What about live music? Seeing a performance on stage? one chord. That’s an inspiration for a rhythm guitar player. ‘I Can’t Stand Mitch Ryder and The Detroit Wheels at Chippewa Lake Park amuse- Myself (When You Touch Me)’ – that’s a good one on one chord. ‘The ment park. I saw the afternoon show and there was a punch-up on stage, Payback’, one of my favourites, with one of the most sinister background which was riveting. I’d never seen anything like it. The main thing was choruses of all time. Or if you go earlier into James Brown, I had an al- the guitar player. I was always partial to guitar players, and I was mes- bum called Lost in a Mood of Changes, and there was no singing on it and merized by him. Jimmy McCarty. That was real life-changing for me. it was him predominant playing organ. So that’s another one. You can get a lot of his great vocals on something like ‘Prisoner of Love’. I’d say that What was he like? would be the one to play. It’s just the perfect love song. Just a fucking great guitar player. I must have been about fourteen – and I remember thinking, ‘Wow, the guitar is actually plugged into him.’ What were your first impressions of London when you moved I mean, the whole band was one of my favourite all-time bands. So I here in 1973? begged my girlfriends to stay for the show that evening. And they had I’ve always loved London. And my first impression was that it was just the same punch-up, and I realized it was staged.