Jill Cooper Quindici Minuti

For the Alice Cooper fans who feel his output was spotty before and after the 1989 classic Trash on Epic, Brutal Planet is a cause to rejoice. It is a solid hard rock offering. Cooper is in great voice, and he sounds mean and spirited…

Formed in 1968, the original Alice Cooper band forged a theatrical brand of hard rock that was destined to shock and had never been seen before. Within five years they would release no fewer than seven studio albums, amongst them their international breakthrough School's Out (including the Top 10 hit of the same name) and the US #1 Billion Dollar Babies (1973). By 1974, the band had risen to the upper echelon of rock stardom… and then, it dissolved.

The first notes of the first song on this album fill you with foreboding: brushed drums, a simple string bassline, and even simpler piano chords played in pulsing eighth notes, Fats Domino style. Sweet Mother of Claudine Longet, you wonder, what have I gotten myself into? Then Jill Barber's voice comes in, with that unmistakable mid-century blend of little-girl timbre and orotund vowels, and you have your answer: you've gotten yourself into a mess of nostalgia, and the only thing that will deliver you to the other side of these 41 minutes with your sanity intact will be the quality of the songs. Luckily for you, these are great songs.

Since the original Alice Cooper band was a major catalyst in the creation of punk rock (Cooper's snide lyrics, the band's raw rock, etc.), by the early '80s Cooper decided to re-embrace the genre after such overblown albums as From the Inside distanced him from his roots. The resulting album, 1981's Special Forces, was Cooper's most stripped-down and straightforward since his classic early-'70s work. But without the original Cooper band to back him up and help out with the songwriting, it's an intriguing yet sometimes uneven set. Cooper was heavily into the guns and ammo publication Soldier of Fortune at the time; hence the album title and lyrical subject matter.

Maybe John Cooper Clarke's brief window of fame passed with the demise of punk. But his poems are every bit as arch and funny now as they were in the '70s. There are sly wordplay, groaning puns, and also plenty of strong social observation. He essentially took the ethos of the Liverpool poets of the '60s, using common language and bringing in lots of humor, but made his mark through speech, not print. This collection, cherry-picked from his major-label work, is an absolute joy. Backed by the relatively all-star Invisible Girls (which included Pete Shelley of the Buzzcocks), the Bard of Salford deadpans his way through the epic "Psycle Sluts (Parts 1 & 2)," "The Day My Pad Went Mad," and the piece that really gave him his first big exposure, "I Married a Monster From Outer Space." But in "Beasley Street" and "Postwar Glamour Girls" there's a more serious undercurrent happening, while "Kung Fu International," for all its lightheartedness, shows that little has changed in English street violence, and "Twat" remains as deliberately outrageous and hilarious as it was on its initial release. Culled from the four albums Cooper Clarke did for Epic, it shows that what was good then is still good. The world needs a Cooper Clarke for the new millennium.