Generation Landslide

Alice Cooper holds a special place in my heart for a number of reasons, ”Hello Hurray” was the first single I ever bought for myself (I have covered this before in blogs/books twatter or some other such thing I’m such a media whore) yes I still have it and yes I still hate the  bloody A-side (ponderous in my opinion) but thankfully my brother (in a rare moment of kindness) reminded me of the guilty pleasures of the B-side and the title of this little romp is named after the very B-side which is still to this day is still my favourite Alice cooper song but that’s not what I’m here blathering on about.

No I was stood in the Brit (my local when I was a lad, back in the day,  populated by any person who had hair or liked Rock music who lived in Gimpsville) when all of a sudden there was a song playing on the juke box (oh the good old days)and as it happens it turned out that it was the new Alice cooper single Seven and Seven Is. It was quirky and I liked it I was out of the loop with regards Alice.The last album I had heard was Lace & Whiskey god knows when and although I quite enjoyed it at the time nobody else seemed to, so here I was pint in hand enjoying umbiff biff biff umbiff ya  with a silly grin in place (you have to hear the song to understand) when the talk got around to the fact that he was touring and lets go and see him, Manchester seemed to be the best date for me as I was working Forestry and trying to make a go of it  a proper job with proper qualifications (this was my plan b after the army) but then fate put a spanner in the works with an exam on the date of the gig so reluctantly I sold my ticket to a happy camper who ran out of the pub as though his head was on fire!

The exam came and went and I passed with flying colours but my head was on the gig and although others from the pub were going to the Glasgow gig on the Friday there was no room at the inn so to speak, so I turned up to drink alone (or so I thought) I finished early and was sat in the bar for just after one (there’s a surprise) when my mate Simon turned up knowing where I was going to be, he was going and his brother who was also meant to be going was in a bad way after being in an accident of his motor bike, so I was the first port of call. Woo hoo we jumped into his little mini estate and headed up whatever road took us up to Glasgow we got there for about six and we weren’t interested who the support was so we parked the car up in a side street as we had no option but to sleep in it after the gig as Simon intended to have a drink or two.

We found a pub full of like minded people and we soon were mixing with lots of Scottish people having a great and rowdy time singing and shouting and generally doing what you do when you’re trying to beat the Scottish at their national sport (DRINKING) and we were doing quite well until we needed something solid on our stomachs as we were light weights compared to these guys, thankfully the pub did Sandwiches and Toasties so we grabbed a couple of Sandwiches and headed to a quiet(ish) corner and Simon took his Jacket off (why he did I have no idea) but he had just had a tattoo done a couple of weeks previously of a large Celtic cross with a rose wrapped around it, you could have heard a pin drop (WTF) then it got creepy a couple of the guys who just minutes earlier were our bosom buddies became very scary, and they were not very friendly when asked us which team we supported? Now you have to remember at this point in my life I was a lot of things naive, a space cadet, drunk, dumb as a box of frogs you may delete whichever one you think is appropriate, but I thought he meant football so I said Consett (this did not help) and Simon who had not been drinking from the same bottle of Pernod as I had on the way up (thankfully as he was the designated driver) realised this was starting to get ugly (I must admit it wasn’t until the next day while driving home that Simon explained how he thought we were about to die and I was so oblivious to the fact) Simon soon got to the grip of things as he had seen similar things in Gimpsville when visiting his pissed friend (that would be me then). The cusp of the problem unbeknown to us straight away was religion Simon’s tattoo was known as a Papal rose and here we were sat in the heart of Rangers territory (Protestants to you and me) thankfully Simon was able to prove that he was oblivious of his mistake and that we were both Rangers fans (actually while I lived in Edinburgh I was a dedicated Hibs fan hahaha another Catholic club come on the cabbage oh dear)  and we were soon back in the arms of our new best buddies (although by all accounts it was a close run thing and if I mention it to Simon now he still gets in a cold sweat) getting drunk and making merry.

 

It was soon decided to head to the venue with our friends (and our jackets kept well and truly on) we noticed they all carried bottles of Irn Bru (laced with Vodka as we soon found out) we carried on drinking and having fun (I couldn’t drink what I drank then now in a month of Sundays, mind you I wouldn’t half mind the opportunity hahaha) and it wasn’t long before the lights went down (for the gig not for me) and the band were romping through an alright kind of set list, if memory serves me right we got Road Rats from Lace & Whiskey and bulk of the set was from the classic albums although nothing from Muscle of Love and three or four shite songs from Flush The Fashion and a couple from Special Forces Which in reality wasn’t that special, including Seven and Seven Is. What struck me was how tiny Alice was and his voice was shocking, he was barely audible when the band were playing and they butchered Generation Landslide (the drink had definitely caught up with Alice) maybe I should have kept drinking while I had the chance, the best bit by far was when Alice declared how he hated the blues and Steve Hunter started playing the blues, Alice crept up behind and cut his throat sending a spray of blood over the first few rows a truly shocking moment but a fantastic effect, one that stands out in my time of going to see bands (and trust me that’s a few)  it’s the only tour as I’m aware that Alice did the trick, it still gives me the creeps to this day hahahaha and I still hate having my throat touched!

We fell out of the venue (The Apollo if your that interested) and found a pub close to where we were parked for more beers, of  which I have no recollection at all, my next memory was Simon waking me in the back of his car saying we needed to find a cafe and get breakfast and use the facilities before heading back over the border. We got back to Gimpsville just as the Brit opened so Simon headed home and I headed into the bar and there was some of the gang covered in the fake blood from the night before laughing and joking saying how crap Alice had been but the trip had been a hoot.

That was Alice’s last gig for nearly four years and he actually played Newcastle on that tour but for some reason (which escapes me for the time being) I didn’t go, maybe’s a different crowd, a different interest in styles of music I still liked the guy I just wasn’t too bothered to see the fake blood up close and personal. I didn’t get to see the man again until the Theatre of Death tour in Newcastle in on my birthday in 2009 (damn where does the time go) not to see the man, I will admit but to say that I had actually never seen a band on my birthday something which surprisingly until then I had never done, mind you this time Alice was on top form even though I didn’t get Generation landslide this time!

 

I thought I had better post something a little less bleak this time around but you guys need to be aware that from now on I'm not going to advertise all of the blogs as no matter what I do the blackness bleeds through, so keep an eye out because there could be some stuff that you miss, until the next time Toodles!