Long before pulling off insane stunts like decapitating himself onstage with guillotines and snakes, Alice Cooper was Vinny from Detroit – the skinny kid raised on scripture and Chuck Berry in equal measure – one who took notes on how to tear it all down in style.

You can’t tell the story of Alice Cooper without including Detroit – not because he was born there, but because only Detroit could give life to a story this wild:

A goth glam mirror to America’s teenage id, a prolific man who made his band and himself a character so ridiculous you had to ask if the joke was on him or on all of us.

Rewind to 1948:

Vincent Damon Furnier was born in Detroit to a religious family, a skinny, sly type with just enough menace in his grin to suggest trouble.

The son of a preacher, the music Vincent heard at home growing up was more hymn-centric than Hendrix, but that never stopped him from being himself.

The family then moved to Phoenix, Arizona, early into Vincent’s childhood, and in high school he found his first love: performance.

He went on to run track, dabble in radio, and he even had a brief career as the lead singer of a Beatles-inspired garage band called the Spiders.

They weren’t great – but they were committed – and by 1968, the band had renamed themselves Alice Cooper – a name Vincent chose because it made him sound like a nice, church-going woman…the polar  opposite of what he was about to unleash on the world.

While denim-clad blues and paisley flower children defined much of rock in the 1960s, Alice Cooper walked on stage in black eyeshadow, torn nylons, fake blood, holding a python named Julius.

Those early albums – produced by Alice Cooper Band – were rough, chaotic, and theatrical, mixing Detroit’s garage rock aggressive rhythm with grotesque flair.

But nothing truly clicked until 1970 when the band made the move to Detroit.

Alice would later lament that Los Angeles didn’t “get” them, that New York didn’t get them, but Detroit? 

“Detroit understood us instantly,” he said.

The band played alongside icons like The Stooges, MC5, Bob Seger, and Ted Nugent in shows that felt like fistfights in a haunted mansion.

It was raw, it was real, and just like that…the man formerly known as Vincent Damon Furnier was sure he had mastered his Great Work.

The single “Love It to Death” by Alice Cooper was produced by Bob Ezrin in 1971 and became an anthem chanted by the entire western world:

“School’s Out for Summer / School’s Out Forever”

It landed at #7 on the Billboard Hot 100, and suddenly, Alice Cooper was no longer just some Detroit freak show – he was America’s greatest teenage nightmare to date.

The next few years were chaotic yet brilliant, with the band releasing:

Killer (1971)
A Million Dollar Baby (1973)
My Nightmare (1975).

All of which were punctuated by guillotines, fake corpses, boa constrictors, and gothic horror.

Parents protested.

Preachers screamed.

And Alice?

He simply smiled and collected his winnings.

Maybe because he knew the truth at the center of it all: That theatrics simply put a face to the danger.

In a country that had gotten fat off of Nixon, Vietnam, and disillusionment, Alice Cooper gave kids a monster to scream with. A distraction from the mundane. And an opportunity to let out their repressed shadows…one rambunctious live show at a time.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

While the original Alice Cooper Band split in the mid-70s, that wasn’t to say Vincent was ready to call it quits.

In solo form, he legally adopted the stage name Alice Cooper and took the leap into independent performance art with Welcome to My Nightmare, a concept album that toured as a Broadway musical inside a rock show.

Both were a smash success, but unfortunately, fame comes with a hefty price…as does being a man existing behind a mask.

Alice slipped into alcoholism trying to escape the character he had created.

He became a regular in the Hollywood Vampires, a celebrity drinking club with members Keith Moon, Harry Nilsson, and John Lennon.

And before anyone knew it, the dude that got famous playing dead on stage was nearly dying himself.

By the 1980s, Alice cleaned up, got sober, and staged a comeback with a harder sound, working with greats like Guns N’ Roses, Ozzy Osbourne, and Slash.

He still had his signature gory look, only now it was powered by a sober mind.

Fast-forward to the 2000s and 2010s.

Alice became both a shock rock icon and a cultural statesman, appearing on late-night shows, collaborating with younger artists, and touring well into his 70s.

He even started a non-profit teen center in Phoenix called Solid Rock, where kids went to get discipline and meaning through music.

It was a career move that made sense, since underneath all the fake blood and horror makeup, Alice Cooper had always been a stand-up preacher’s kid – only one who had learned how to scream the gospel instead of sing it.

In 2019, Detroit repaid the favor.

Alice released “Breadcrumbs” – a tribute to Detroit garage rockers Suzi Quatro, MC5 and Bob Seger, which he then followed up with “Detroit Stories” in 2021 – recorded in Detroit with local musicians and fueled by the gritty, heavy energy of the city.

This hit #1 on the Billboard’s Album Sales Chart, standing as a full circle moment for the east side kid who became America’s nightmare and never stopped playing the part.

In short: Alice Cooper never ran from Detroit’s darkness.

He put it on stage, and in doing so, he made millions feel seen, heard, and a little more at ease with their own inner chaos.

Alice Cooper was punk before punk, metal before metal, and a shock to the system before anyone else had even found their voice to scream.

He made it okay to be weird, theatrical, grotesque, and beautiful – often all in the same breath – ripping through garage rock, horror films, celebrity, and theater with a voice that still cracks and sneers like a busted Detroit loudspeaker.

He’s still alive.

Still playing.

Still continuing to craft living nightmares that make you feel more alive.

And Detroit?

It has never stopped claiming him.

Victoria Jackson (Editor In Chief)

Victoria Jackson is a lifelong student and sharp-eyed documentarian of all things Detroit, from its rich musical roots and cultural icons to its shifting neighborhoods, storied architecture, and underground legends. With her finger firmly on the pulse of both the city’s vibrant past and its rapidly unfolding future, she brings a deeply personal, historically grounded lens to every piece she writes.

Published on: July 25, 2025