Posted March 2018
As a pre-teen growing up in Phoenix, Arizona, my only real exposure to rock and roll was whatever Elvis music my parents listened to and the Rolling Stones records my cousin (and now business partner) had in the spare room of my paternal grandparents’ house.
As I crawled into Junior High, some of my friends turned me on to the Allman Brothers, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and a few others. Somehow or other, even the Osmond Brothers creeped into the mix.
Back to my baptism into rock and roll.
While in eighth grade, the fad was for us to bring battery operated cassette players to school (not Walkman size. Much bigger) and listen to the latest cassettes we’d bought or borrowed.
One night, I was at a friend’s house and he started playing this new tape he’d just bought. It was by some band called “Alice Cooper”. As I recall (and as luck would have it), the first song I heard from that tape was “Sick Things”. It creeped me to the deepest part of my pre-pubescent being. THEN, two songs later, “I Love the Dead”.
Who the heck was this Alice Cooper anyway and why did “she” sound like a dude . . . and a devil dude, at that? I bet they even had a house littered with satanic bibles and dead babies.
OH MY GOSH! I soon learned that Alice even had a song called “Dead Babies”. WHAT. THE. HECK!
I quickly learned that she was a he and that he was actually from right there in Phoenix, Arizona, by way of Detroit. The band and its sound quickly grew on me and I became a fan. Becoming a
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