Still recovering from a recent bout with bronchitis, I opted to stay home this weekend and asked freelancer William Vega if he'd cover the Alice Cooper/Marilyn Manson show Saturday at the Don. Here's his review.
By William Vega
Shock rock legends Alice Cooper and Marilyn Manson turned the Don Haskins Center into a theater of horrors on Saturday night.
Though Cooper doesn't have a new album to promote and Manson's "Born Villain" has been out for a year, their 13-city "Masters of Madness" tour seemed to be more about proving their legacies as two of rock's most theatrical performers, not letting the fact that both are past their primes distract them.
It looked like the 44-year-old Manson was going to show up the 65-year-old Cooper at first, but Father Time decided to turn back the clock, and Cooper took full advantage.
The first half of Cooper's set left a lot of die-hard fans craving more. About half the crowd of 4,000 remained seated. Even during some of his more popular songs, such as "Poison" and "No More Mr. Nice Guy," the crowd didn't budge from their chairs.
But things took a turn for the better after the Rock and Roll Hall of Famer turned things over to his band following "Dirty Diamonds." His three guitarists — blonde bombshell Orianthi and veterans Tommy Henriksen and ladies' man Ryan Roxie — plus bassist Chuck Garric and drummer Glen Sobel (who used a double bass decorated with a human head) combined for a 10-minute long instrumental bridge as Cooper left the stage for a costume change.
He returned for “Welcome to My Nightmare” and “Go to Hell,” which combined for a fitting theme for this show — Welcome to The Nightmare Tunnel. Through introductory train horn sounds and demonic voices, Cooper took his fans on a journey through his darker, theatrical side.
That’s where his show turned into a Broadway musical. “Feed My Frankenstein” was the first act. Cooper came out wearing a bloody lab coat to match his version of the classic Frankenstein lab table, which was standing straight up. Then, he fed his psycho friend.
During the extended guitar solo, Cooper was strapped into the table, sparks flew and he and the table disappeared into a cloud of dry-ice fog. They gave way to a giant, 12-foot Frankenstein, who finished the song and paced the stage back and forth.
Cooper kept the show going with “Ballad of Dwight Fry,” a tribute to the "Dracula" and "Frankenstein" actor. He was put in a straitjacket (as he used to do in his '70s shows) and escaped, only to be stabbed by his robotic nurse and decapitated by a guillotine.
Cooper, head and all, came back for “I Love the Dead” and finished his set with “School’s Out,” which included a portion of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall.”
He returned for an encore of his early '70s anthem, “I’m Eighteen,” joined by Manson, but even that dream collaboration couldn’t compete with the conclusion of Cooper’s show. That paralleled the early part of his show, as it appeared Cooper was going to be overshadowed by Manson.
Manson's show was a spectacle from the start, and his wide array of props stuck to his theme of being obscene and offensive. Manson was perfectly fine with being obscene.
He could have used disclaimers before most of his songs, which featured Manson strutting in a variety of costumes from drag to a Nazi uniform to a fur coat. During his cover of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus,” he even wrapped himself in an American flag while applying lipstick in front of a giant trick mirror.
As if his costumes weren’t enough, Manson's stage props added an extra level of obscenity to the proceedings. His set didn't take off until “The Dope Show,” when he came on stage wearing a fur coat and holding a birthday cake. He then threw a bag of blue “meth” (I’m guessing it wasn’t real meth) and the cake into the crowd, which was the cue to start his popular 1998 song.
“mOBSCENE” was his coup de grâce of offensiveness, with advertising signs that misspelled “rape,” commanded the audience to “suck it” if they didn’t like his music and many other phrases I wish not to write.
Manson's gloomy cover of the Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),” which has become a staple of his, was performed on stilts — and crutches long enough to touch the ground. He caressed his band mates with them and paraded them on stage as he gave a rendition of the 1983 hit that was just plain creepy, yet somehow extremely entertaining.
Then came “Irresponsible Hate Anthem,” which he performed at a giant podium, resembling a Nazi assembly as he wore a replica SS suit. Manson closed his portion of the show (Layla Allman's Picture Me Broken opened the night) with "The Beautiful People,” his popular 1996 hit, after a short encore break during which the crowd cheered for more.
I overheard some fans saying they were leaving after Manson's set, saying they only wanted to see him. But Cooper is the guy who invented all of this, and, despite some early rust, his horror film-come-to-life added to a night of rock 'n' roll theater by two of its best practitioners.
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