from the inside (1978) – alice cooper: warner bros records, BSK-3263

By the late 70’s Alice Cooper the band and Alice Cooper the stage character had merged into Alice Cooper the entity, and eventually possessed the body of the band’s frontman creating Alice Cooper the trinity (Band, Character, Person). If that makes any sense to you at all then you must be Catholic, and have come to terms with the whole Father-Son-Spirit thing.

In any case, Alice Cooper was now something more than a person, band, or idea, and was residing in the body of a scrawny guy from Arizona named Vince. Now that’s some heavy dope to be carrying around, and it would put the zap on anyone’s head, but when one considers that Vince was a dorky preacher’s kid who grew up sheltered from the excess of Rock and Roll, one can understand how a hedonistic lifestyle of unlimited sex, booze, and drugs combined with the adoption of an extremely over-the-top personality might prove to be a bit too much to handle.

So it was no surprise that Alice/Vince finally snapped, and ended up spending time in a safe, quiet building with many safe, quiet padded rooms. And since art seems to come from pain, it’s also not really surprising that Alice took Vince's experience, employed art as additional therapy, and recorded an album about it: 1978’s From The Inside.

Side 1: From The Inside Wish I Were Born In Beverly Hills The Quiet Room Nurse Rozetta Millie And Billie
Side 2: Serious How You Gonna See Me Now For Veronica’s Sake Jacknife Johnny Inmates (We’re All Crazy)

The first thing that comes across on listening to this album is just how different this sounds from previous Alice Cooper albums. The songs have more melody and a gentler touch to them. There’s a stronger use of piano (often as the primary instrument), and far less of the “shock and horror” that categorized the earlier stuff. In fact, in many ways, From The Inside sounds less an Alice Cooper album than an Elton John album.

Part of that is because of how intensely personal this album is (more on that in a bit), but really the softer, more Eltony sound is because of the songwriting partnership between Alice and Bernie Taupin. Bernie, as you probably know, was Elton’s songwriting partner for donks, which explains the predominance of piano and why one can almost hear Elton’s warbling on songs like The Quiet Room or How You Gonna See Me Now.

But for all the Bernie/Elton qualities, this is still very much an Alice Cooper album. There are harder songs (Beverly Hills, Serious, and For Veronica’s Sake), and while the delightfully perverse Millie And Billie may be the only song with typically nightmarish Alice Cooper lyrics, there’s no mistaking the snark and darkness of the content in the other songs.

The difference is that while the macabre content of earlier albums were invented and remote in a sort of HP Lovecraft way, the songs on this album are disturbing because of their authenticity.  Alice/Vince really did suffer from a psychotic break. Alice/Vince really did spend time in a nuthouse. And Alice/Vince really did meet people with some seriously fucked up heads. These songs are based on that experience and the people. Wish I Were Born In Beverly Hills, Serious , and How You Gonna See Me Now tell about Alice/Vince’s personal demons. Nurse Rozetta, Millie And Billie, and Jacknife Johnny are about some of the other nuts in the facility. And From The Inside, The Quiet Room, and Inmates are about the place.

Following the reputation of Alice Cooper albums for creative packaging, From The Inside goes one more step by actually making the album cover a part of the record, rather than just decoration. It’s an immersive experience that actually enhances the songs, by interactively drawing one into the insanity. The front cover close-up of a confused and frightened Alice opens in the middle like double-doors revealing a scene filled with the characters from the album, letting us identify them and relate to them while listening to their songs. We see the timid sexual curiosity of the preacher as he lifts Nurse Rozetta’s skirt, or the manic expression on the rich gal born in Beverly Hills, the desperation of the guy who needs to get back to Veronica, and the dead expression on Billie. Opening the small door labeled “The Quiet Room” shows a tiny, huddled Alice. Finally, the back of the album also has double-doors, which upon opening shows a mass of dangerous lunatics charging out.

The raw honesty of the subject matter makes this album compelling. Even when dressed up and sanitized (and in songs like Rozetta also given a comical take), the paranoia, pain, and hopelessness of the situation comes through making it a tough listen. But that honesty also makes it rewarding enough so that listening to it close to 35 years after I first bought it, it still has an impact.

Up next: Tales of love, war, and loss from a Prog Pioneer