I love Alice Cooper. Way back in 2001 Alice was the first proper concert I went to, and I saw him again in 2006, and those shows mean he’s still secure in my top 5 acts I’ve seen live.
Golf, I’m less keen on. I’ve played the crazy/mini variety which is quite fun, and messed about on nine holes with some mates, but I think we packed in early because we were all terrible and it was raining. I think my problem with it comes from the association with posh people and the fact on TV it’s quite tedious to watch.
Alice Cooper loves golf. He’s played for years but really became a “golf monster” after he traded booze for the bunkers. This memoir, which tells his whole life is also a love letter and reflection on the sport he is obsessed with.
His enthusiasm does make it sound appealing, a game where you’re really in competition with yourself, where you can improve and take a break outside? Maybe it isn’t just a good walk wasted.
I did get more out of the memoir parts, with the writing feeling very Alice. It’s funny and knowing, Alice telling anecdotes well and revelling in name dropping. But if Raquel Welch had tried to seduce me I’d tell that story a lot too.
There are times when it almost feels like bragging, but he undercuts that. A section where he talks about how the modern era won’t produce lasting, iconic musicians with long careers feels a bit Grumpy Old Rocker, but these are minor quibbles and thankfully Alice’s humour, openness and personality make this an autobiography where you maintain your affection for the subject.
A witty, honest and star studded account of the career of a fantastic, iconic performer and his addictions. So good I kinda want to give golf a proper go.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.