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The
way of faith for Alice Cooper
By
Steve Beard
It
was recently announced that the biggest hit in the 24-year
history of MTV is a program called "The Osbournes."
The half-hour show-complete with constant bleeping from
excessive foul language-is a curiously fascinating docu-comedy
starring the members of Ozzy Osbourne's family-wife and
two teenage siblings (the eldest child bowed out of the
show). Ozzy, of course, is the 53-year-old British rock
singer acclaimed for his ghoulish heavy metal
performances.
MTV
filmed for four months as the Osbournes moved into a new
Beverly Hills mansion where they promptly bemoan the loss
of their former neighbor, Pat Boone. Ozzy dotters and
mumbles around the house trying to figure out the TV
remote control, his wife hires a pet therapist to get the
dogs to stop pottying in the living room, and the kids
scream and chase one another around the Osbourne compound.
Truth
be told, I find the show captivating in a strange way. My
wife, on the other hand, hates it. But the television
networks are on my side. They are scrambling to tap into
this quirky genre of "reality" television. Well,
for what it's worth, here is my recommendation for the
next show: Alice Cooper's family. That's right, the spooky
granddaddy of shock rock who festooned his stage with
guillotines, electric chairs, and boa constrictors. Yikes,
is right; but it would make a great show.
Imagine
watching the reactions of parents as they take their sons
to their very first Little League baseball practice only
to discover that Alice Cooper is going to be the coach. Or
where he tries to organize a carpool to his daughter's
ballet lessons (he has three kids ranging from 10 years
old to 20). Or, what about when he gets thrown into an unsuspecting golf
foursome at the country club, it would be a hoot.
Alice
Cooper (born Vincent Furnier) still tours around the world
doing his theatrical rock and roll show about three or
four months out of the year.
He still watches kung-fu movies before his
performances and downs Quarter Pounders with cheese
afterward. This zany character even shows up regularly at
Alice Cooper'stown, his sports-n-rock themed restaurant in
Phoenix, Arizona, where he serves Mom's Tuna Casserole and
Megadeth Meatloaf.
At
the height of his worldwide fame, Cooper drank a bottle of
whiskey a day.
But
the bottle almost destroyed his marriage to Sheryl, his
wife of 25 years. He started heading off to church with
her and felt as if God was speaking to him every Sunday.
Even at the pinnacle of his ghoulish career (which he
believed was no more provocative than a horror movie
musical) he still believed in God. The son and grandson of
preachers, Cooper's faith was crippled by the weight of
fame and the toxicity of alcoholism.
He
experienced every pleasure that money could buy but found
it did not satisfy. "I was the prodigal son. I left
the house, achieved fame and fortune, and found out that
that was not what I wanted," he tells HM magazine.
"Now I read the Bible every day, I pray every day.
That's really what I'm about." He continues: "I
was one thing at one time, and I'm something new. I'm a
new creature now. Don't judge Alice by what he used to be.
Praise God for what I am now."
Cooper
has taken the opportunity to speak to curious fellow
musicians about the reality of the devil and the change in
his life. "I have talked to some big stars about
this, some really horrific characters...and you'd be
surprised," he says. "The ones that you would
think are the farthest gone, are the ones that are the
most apt to listen."
Although
Cooper's shows still explore the haunting and ghastly
aspects of human nature, its message carries a different
twist. "It might sound absolutely insane coming from
me, but what the world needs is a good shot of
morality," he says. His last several albums have been
dramatic interpretations of what the world would be like
without the grace of God.
The horror is there, but the message is profoundly
different-redeemed. His alter ego is a theatrical prophet
of doom, or a rock and roll version of a character pulled
from C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters.
As
for the lifestyle found in some quarters of the rock
world, Cooper says, "Drinking beer is easy. Trashing
your hotel room is easy. But being a Christian, that's a
tough call. That's real rebellion," he told the
London Sunday Times Magazine.
In
describing the importance of his Christian faith, he says,
"It's everything. It's what I live for. If you gave
me a choice between rock and roll and my faith, I'd take
my faith," Cooper told The Observer in Australia.
"Rock and roll is fun-it's what I do for a living.
But it's not what I live on. I believe in classic
Christianity. I've given my whole life to the Lord. But I
don't think that means you can't be a rock and
roller." After all, as Cooper has said, "I must
be the only father that bangs on the bedroom door and
says, 'Turn that music up!'"
Now,
that would be a fun show to watch.
Steve
Beard is the editor in chief of Good News. For more on
faith and pop culture, check out his website at www.thunderstruck.org
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