Alice Cooper was a mess in 1976. That’s not an insult—it’s just the truth. He was drinking enough Budweiser to float a battleship, his original band was a memory, and he was under immense pressure to follow up the massive success of Welcome to My Nightmare. So, what does he do? He decides to write a concept album where he goes to hell. But it isn't the hell of Dante or Milton. No, in the world of the Alice Cooper Goes to Hell album, perdition is a disco.
Imagine being a die-hard rock fan in the mid-seventies. You want leather, snakes, and guillotines. Instead, your hero hands you a record where the Devil is a DJ and the punishment for "criminal acts and violence on the stage" is being forced to dance in a leisure suit. It was a risky move. Honestly, it was almost career suicide. Yet, fifty years later, this record stands as one of the most bizarrely brilliant entries in the shock-rocker’s massive catalog.
The Sequel Nobody Saw Coming
The album is technically a sequel. It continues the story of Steven, the central character from Welcome to My Nightmare. But while the first record felt like a classic horror movie, this one feels more like a Vaudeville show staged in a furnace. Cooper, along with producer Bob Ezrin and guitarist Dick Wagner, spent six months crafting these songs. That’s a lifetime for Alice, who used to knock out lyrics in a weekend.
They weren't just writing songs; they were building a Broadway show that happened to have distorted guitars. The "Hollywood Vampires" served as the backing band—not the Johnny Depp version, obviously, but a group of legendary session players like Tony Levin and Steve Hunter. They were professional. They were tight. And they were tasked with making Alice Cooper sound like a lounge singer one minute and a heavy metal elephant gun the next.
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Why the Disco Theme Pissed Everyone Off
"You Gotta Dance" is the track that usually makes the purists cringe. It’s got that four-on-the-floor beat. It’s got the percussion. It’s undeniably disco. Cooper was satirizing the trend, basically saying that for a guy like him, a discotheque is the ultimate torment.
But fans didn't always get the joke. They saw the "Godfather of Shock Rock" leaning into a genre they hated.
The irony is that the musicianship on this album is top-tier. Even the disco-tinged tracks feature incredible guitar work from Wagner and Hunter. If you can get past the 1976 aesthetic, you realize the songwriting is incredibly sophisticated. It’s campy, sure, but it’s also remarkably dark if you listen to the lyrics.
The "Alcoholic Confession" of I Never Cry
While the title track "Go to Hell" is the big, theatrical anthem that still shows up in setlists today, the emotional heart of the album is "I Never Cry." Cooper has since called this song his "alcoholic confession."
"I'm a dirt-talkin', beer-drinkin', woman-chasin' minister's son."
That’s a real line from "Guilty," but it applies to the whole vibe of the record. Alice was struggling. His health was deteriorating—so much so that the entire tour for this album had to be canceled because he was suffering from severe anemia and his drinking was out of control. When he sings "I Never Cry," you aren't hearing a character. You're hearing Vincent Furnier. It became a massive hit, proving that even when he was falling apart, the man knew how to write a ballad that would resonate with the masses.
The Tracks That Time Forgot (But Shouldn't)
The Alice Cooper Goes to Hell album is more than just the hits. It's filled with weird little experiments that show how much Cooper wanted to be a "performer" rather than just a "rock star."
- I'm the Coolest: A slow, swaggering spoken-word piece where Alice plays the part of the Devil. It’s creepy and arrogant.
- Give the Kid a Break: This sounds like it belongs in a 1940s musical. Alice is pleading his case before a judge in hell, and the judge basically tells him to shove it.
- I'm Always Chasing Rainbows: A cover of a 1917 Vaudeville standard. It’s the moment where Steven (or Alice) realizes he’s stuck in a loop of disappointment. It’s heartbreakingly earnest.
The Legacy of a Nightmare
It’s easy to look back and say this album was a "transitional" piece. It was the start of a slide into more pop-oriented, less "scary" music that lasted until his big comeback with Trash in the late 80s. Critics at the time weren't kind. Rolling Stone was dismissive, and Classic Rock later called it a "bloated mess."
They missed the point.
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Alice was evolving. He was moving away from the "group" dynamic and into the "icon" phase. This album proved he could handle high-concept storytelling without the original band. It also showed he wasn't afraid to be the butt of the joke. Who else would record an album about going to hell and spend half the time making fun of themselves?
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
If you're going to dive into this record for the first time, don't expect Killer or School's Out. You have to approach it with a different mindset.
- Listen to it as a Soundtrack: Treat it like you're watching a play. The transitions between songs like "Wake Me Gently" and "Wish You Were Here" make way more sense if you view them as scenes in a story.
- Focus on the Bass: Tony Levin’s work on this album is criminally underrated. Even in the "disco" tracks, the groove is sophisticated and heavy.
- Read the Liner Notes: If you can find an original copy or a high-res scan, read "A Bedtime Story." It sets the stage for the descent and gives the whole project the "disturbed kid" vibe that Alice perfected.
- Compare it to Welcome to My Nightmare: Listen to both back-to-back. You’ll see the threads of the "Steven" character and how Alice’s personal life was starting to bleed into his art.
The Alice Cooper Goes to Hell album might not be the most "rocking" thing he ever did, but it’s definitely one of his most honest. It’s a snapshot of a legend at a crossroads, trying to figure out how to be "Alice" while the world around him—and his own body—was changing. Give it a spin. Just leave the platform shoes at the door.
Next Steps for You:
To truly understand the "Steven" saga, listen to Welcome to My Nightmare (1975) followed immediately by Goes to Hell (1976). Pay close attention to how the production by Bob Ezrin shifts from pure horror to theatrical satire. This will give you the full context of Cooper's creative peak during the mid-70s before his health-related hiatus.