No Guilty Pleasures #1: Alice Cooper's 'Muscle Of Love'
Monday, 22 September 2014
Written by Alec Chillingworth
In part one of No Guilty Pleasures, a new feature celebrating records maligned by the masses, Alec Chillingworth takes a look at Alice Cooper at their most Spinal Tap on ‘Muscle Of Love’.
The year was 1973. Alice Cooper had just unleashed 'Billion Dollar Babies' – a crowning glory surpassed only by Vincent Furnier’s debut solo effort under the name, 'Welcome To My Nightmare' - and were essentially masters of their universe.
'Billion Dollar Babies' had hit #1 on both sides of the Atlantic and spawned an accompanying tour that became a record-setting money spinner. So, naturally, its follow up was a dunderheaded exercise in nonconformity, boasting nine songs about prostitution, wanking and James Bond.
Released a mere nine months after its blockbuster predecessor (Slipknot and Tool, take note), 'Muscle Of Love' remains an oft-reviled and unfairly dismissed chapter in the Cooper canon. The group were, admittedly, running on fumes after a mammoth tour and hit by long-time producer Bob Ezrin stepping aside. But is 'Muscle Of Love' actually that bad? Nope.
Bursting from the speakers with an exuberant swagger, Big Apple Dreaming (Hippo) is instant proof that Alice had lost none of their potency over the course of the year. Featuring a hummably melancholy riff, singalong vocal lines to die for and a crescendo of ripping guitar licks courtesy of Glen Buxton, the tune is quite worthy of any modern-day Alice setlist.
‘Muscle Of Love’ harks back to 'Love It To Death' while retaining elements brought into play on the band’s previous couple of releases. The bombastic, over-the-top brass section present on 'Billion Dollar Babies' remains, albeit in a different skin. Never Been Sold Before and would-be-Bond-tune Man With The Golden Gun both exhibit an undeniable sleaziness, with the latter benefiting from a ridiculous bassline and twin-guitar attack that just screams Bond.
In the negative column, the album has no I'm Eighteen, no School's Out and a gaping hole where a No More Mr. Nice Guy should be. With such an immaculate run of bangers preceding it, 'Muscle Of Love' is seen as a disappointment because of its lack of anthems. But, where it fails to deliver in that department, it makes up for it with sheer, blackened wit.
Even on an album that was described by the man himself as “very basic rock and roll throughout”, there are some wicked rhymes. He's not singing about dead babies or necrophilia anymore, but the sheer bravado with which he delivers certain lines is testament to the man's endearing, yet ever so twisted, sense of humour. See Working Up A Sweat for more info: "Bandages came off today, really feeling sick. The hardest part's explaining all those blisters on my...nose."
'Muscle Of Love' is far from a classic. It doesn't possess the sinister charm of 'Billion Dollar Babies', the arena-bothering choruses of 'Trash' or the horrifying, compellingly grandiose theatrics of 'Welcome To My Nightmare'. But, to dismiss it entirely is just plain wrong. Take a pot-shot at 'Zipper Catches Skin', 'Special Forces' or perhaps one of the industrial ones you're not fond of, because 'Muscle Of Love' packed the tunes, the attitude and the humour to stand on its own two legs in the trenches of an esteemed catalogue.
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