Probably the most fascinating thing about Dust is that, for a band that released a grand total of two albums, how they continue to generate far more interest some 40 to 50 years than when they actually existed as a functioning act. Hard Attack is the second of two LP’s, and generally, there’s not much difference between the two, although for this more gruffly-titled affair the band decided to stylistically stretch their wings a bit. Yes, there are sensitive things such as ballads, and country-tinged ones at that. But this is a Dust album, which means even when they play a country song, there’s a certain intensity that is missing from your average mom and pop country song. Therefore, the otherwise genteel “I’ve Been Thinkin” comes out like the prelude to a twisted suicide note. And speaking of those….This is the album which contains the mighty track “Suicide”, propelled by Marc Bell’s (later to be Marky Ramone) nasty drum work, running through a laundry list of ways to put down oneself in a desperate attempt to get a jilted lover’s attention. Maybe the sentiment is immature, but metal, punk, and hardcore fans alike can certainly unite over the defiant, middle-finger tone of this one, right? The other cited track is “Learning to Die”, which is on the progressive side of the street, but again, no less defiant in tone than “Suicide”. In fact, defiant and “screw-all” are the general themes of Hard Attack, even for the opening suite “Pull Away/So Many Times”, where the trio replicate their aggression with acoustics and just a lone electric guitar on top of it. The ballads might seem a bit out of place at first (“Thusly Spoken”, “I’ve Been Thinkin”, “How Many Horses”), but upon further listens they fit with the general melancholy of the affair. The guys in Dust seemed like lost kids searching for the next break or opportunity and all of these songs come off like great cries of frustration, in retrospect. In 2004, both the debut and Hard Attack were packaged together as a 2-for-1 CD, so that is probably the best way to experience everything this band had to offer.

The story begins in the Hamilton, Ontario area in the late 1960s, when the group served as the backup band for Ronnie Hawkins, until he fired them, unwittingly giving them their name by telling a friend, "those boys could fuck up a crowbar in fifteen seconds." Their debut was recorded with another local legend, King Biscuit Boy (actual name: Richard Newell) in 1970, but soon afterwards both acts did not see eye-to-eye and went their separate ways, which leads us to Bad Manors. One thing both Crowbar and King Biscuit Boy had in common was a rowdy, communal, party-hardy take on blues-rock and roots-rock that was diametrically opposed to Hawkins' old mates The Band. There was nary a ballad to be found on Bad Manors, and in fact the record was named after the group's communal house on the outskirts of Hamilton. Crowbar concerts were wild affairs where the guitarist and bass player were draped on the giant, hulking body of 250-pound piano player and lead vocalist Blake "Kelly Jay" Fordham. The notable song here was "Oh, What A Feeling", a sweaty, catchy, Funkadelic-in-spirit groove which put to shame all of Rare Earth's catalog in one expertly-tuned four minute blast. Then again, that was just one of many well-played and executed grooves from this record. Sadly, about the only place people know Fordham from is a 2013 episode of Hoarding Buried Alive, and that he passed away in 2019. But make no mistake, his Crowbar was, once upon a time, a formidable presence on stage and on record, and deserve more recognition for it.

The last album of Alice Cooper as a band has fallen far back into the cutout bin of lost pop music history. Actually, there seems to be a lot of periods like this for Alice - both band-era and solo - and in this case as with others, it's worth revisiting. Just from the title alone this had the ability to be another glossy, slam-bang production in the best Billion Dollar Baby tradition, except this time the target was sex. It doesn't quite reach the heights of Love It To Death or the previous record, but there are moments that match up. "Man With the Golden Gun" fits perfectly into James Bond's world without compromising any of Alice's ideals, while "Hard Hearted Alice" is a tantalizing glimpse into some of the mainstream ballad material that solo Alice would delve into. But the band can't keep up the intensity like they used to, and more importantly, there does seem to be a conflict between their theatrical ambitions, and a general "back to basics" thread that runs through the album.

I'm always torn when comparing Killer to the previous album because there's nothing here which hasn't been said or played to great effect already, but...it's undeniable, after hearing the grotesque "Dead Babies/Killer" double ending, that the group had raised the shock & awe stakes a few levels. It is still a bit disturbing to realize that an album made 50-plus years ago essentially ends with a death row execution.

Alice Cooper did everything a band wouldn't do to make it big in the late 1960's - for starters, they woke Frank Zappa at 7 in the morning for an audition because he told them to show up at "7 o'clock" - in return, Zappa signed them to his record label and produced their debut record. Well, sort of. The story goes, Frank left his brother to mind the store, and when he returned later that day, the band told him they had finished the album. Frank's brother simply recorded them rehearsing. Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica is nowadays often held up as the gold standard of improvisational rock music, but in reality, Alice Cooper beat him to the punch, by creating one of the most crude, ugly, and jarringly un-psychedelic psychedelic records ever made. That is not to say it's a must-hear - certainly, the band would far eclipse this flawed-diamond document - but all of the base ideas which eventually gave rise to the ultimate Alice Cooper legend are here, in spades.