Wake the Dead

Hey Zoo Freaks, it’s your lantern-lit Zoo Crew drifting in from the fog-draped edges of THE ZOO, where the graveyard soil’s still warm and the spirits are stirring. We’re spinning Alice Cooper’s “Wake the Dead” from the shadowy web of Along Came a Spider, and man, this one’s a midnight resurrection with fangs. Picture Alice as serial killer “Spider,” wrapping his eighth victim in plastic while crooning like a lullaby from the crypt: “I want your skull, I need your skull.” In a 2008 sit-down with Metal Hammer, Alice grinned that the whole album’s a concept flick in his head—think Se7en meets Silence of the Lambs—and this track’s the moment the monster starts collecting souvenirs. Producer Danny Saber layered in chainsaw guitars and a choir of ghouls, but the real kicker? They recorded the backing vocals in a real morgue at 3 a.m.—Alice told Revolver, “The echo was perfect, and the janitor swore he saw drawers sliding open on their own.” Fans on X still post bootleg clips from the ’08 tour where Alice emerges from a coffin on hydraulics, arms outstretched, singing “How does it feel to be dead?” while strobes flash like lightning over tombstones. One viral thread calls it “the ultimate wake-up call for the undead,” complete with fan art of Spider Alice stitching a quilt of faces. Dark, delicious, and dripping with theatrical venom, Zoo Freaks—like a black rose blooming in moonlight.

Now let’s roll the reel back to the sun-baked Phoenix playground where the preacher’s kid first learned to juggle snakes and scripture, ‘cause Vincent Damon Furnier didn’t just stumble onto the stage—he was born running toward it. Detroit ’48, dad’s a lay preacher, family hauls west to Arizona, and by high school Vinnie’s the track star with a secret: he’s lip-syncing Beatles tunes with mops on his head for the Cortez High talent show. That one-off gag becomes The Earwigs, then The Spiders by ’66, cutting a local single “Don’t Blow Your Mind” that actually spins on Phoenix radio. Name morphs to The Nazz (oops, Todd Rundgren), then—legend says—at a ’68 Ouija séance, “Alice Cooper” floats up like smoke from a cauldron. Frank Zappa signs the mascara-smeared mayhem to Straight Records for three gloriously unhinged albums, but it’s the move back to Detroit in ’70 that ignites the fuse—hanging fake babies, chopping heads, pure vaudeville shock. Bob Ezrin polishes the chaos for Love It to Death, “I’m Eighteen” explodes, and by ’73 Billion Dollar Babies is the biggest tour in America. Vincent legally becomes Alice in ’74, goes solo with Welcome to My Nightmare, battles the bottle through the haze, then rises reborn—sober, golf-loving, still swinging that snake at 77. From track spikes to spider webs, the kid built a nightmare empire on heart, hustle, and a whole lotta holy water.

If the crypt’s whispering your name, Zoo Freaks, creep over to the official Alice Cooper site for tour talismans, spider merch, and that fresh Revenge brew. Gather the ghouls on Facebook—four million strong, swapping morgue tales and midnight reels. Peek the pandemonium on Instagram for coffin glam and golf-cart grins, or howl into the void on X where Alice drops deadpan dispatches. For the die-hards, the Sick Things Fan Site is a vault of collector confessions, while REAL Alice Cooper Fans trade rare relics and rally cries. Dive deeper at WelcomeToMyNightmare.co.uk, a fan shrine stacked with Dennis Dunaway diaries and cold-coffin curios. Crank the cauldron, raise the chalice, and let’s wake the dead till the dawn breaks, my midnight marauders.