Hollywood Vampires is the sort of proposition that makes immediate sense to any rock fan. Put Alice Cooper, the architect of shock rock, next to Aerosmith guitar slinger Joe Perry, add Johnny Depp and let them loose on sixty years of loud music. It seems obvious in retrospect, yet somehow it took four decades for Cooper and Perry to end up in the same band. The result is one hell of a cast, with a repertoire to match.
The setlist raids Alice Cooper and Aerosmith for classics and deeper cuts, then wanders freely through the music that shaped them: The Doors, The Who, The Yardbirds, AC/DC, Jeff Beck and plenty more besides. Depp brings some rougher edges into the mix with nods to the New York Dolls, Jim Carroll Band and Killing Joke, giving the show a punkier streak whenever things threaten to become too respectable. There is no shortage of familiar songs, but the selections are broad enough to keep the evening from turning into a classic-rock jukebox.
Depp was always the wild card. When Hollywood Vampires first emerged over a decade ago, nobody really knew whether a movie star with a guitar would strengthen the chemistry or upset it. By now the answer is clear: he belongs here. His taste, attitude and slightly ragged presence suit the band far better than the more delicate musical environment of his work with Jeff Beck. Perry, meanwhile, remains the very model of a rock 'n' roll guitarist: part Keith Richards looseness, part Jeff Beck flash, all filtered through a style that is unmistakably his own. And yes, he still looks cool as fuck doing it.
At the centre of the whole operation is Alice Cooper, approaching eighty and still commanding an arena with the timing, voice and wicked sense of humour that have carried him through six decades. He can menace, mug, sneer or simply stand there and let the room come to him. Around him, Hollywood Vampires functions exactly as it should: a bunch of friends playing songs they love because playing rock 'n' roll is what they do.
That may be the band's greatest luxury. There is no manifesto to sell, no stylistic reinvention required and no great artistic burden hanging over the evening. The theatrics are kept relatively lean and the music gets most of the attention. Famous musicians playing their favorite songs for an arena of connoisseurs, with enough skill, history and attitude to make the whole thing roar. Pure pleasure, amplified.
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