“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense”: this phrase from a certain Disney film perfectly summarizes the gist of pairing JUDAS PRIEST and Alice Cooper, two purveyors of bitter pills and sweet riffs. The former always seemed to embody no-nonsense heavy metal while preparing fantasies frilly enough to make multitudes embrace the freewheel-burning philosophy; the latter welcomed millions into his dungeon of nightmares while regularly discarding absurdity in favor of reality-haunted truth. The last time the listeners enjoyed this coupling onstage during “Operation Rock & Roll Tour” back in 1991, but about three decades further on down the line, a lot of things changed – yet a lot stayed the same, too.
It was quite noticeable in Toronto, where the Britons’ performance preceded the American’s outing, which created a nice sonic contrast between what, by now, became monolithic, yet not plodding, show, and nuanced, even in aural terms, theatricality. A third of PRIEST’s current set comprises a half of the “Painkiller” album, and as far as anniversary celebrations go, this felt good, even though such an approach may rid the ensemble of playfulness that, once upon a time, used to color their leather monochrome, presently accentuated via various shades of grey in Rob Halford frequently shifting coats.
The singer’s pipes demonstrate some wear-and-tear, rendering the delivery of classics like “Breaking The Law” and “Electric Eye” a rather hard work for him, yet, surprisingly, the warbler did a stellar job of “Giants In The Sky” from 2024’s “Invincible Shield” – whence “Gates Of Hell” also emerged – to bring the audience to the verge of tears when a portrait of Ozzy Osbourne joined the onscreen pantheon of fallen heroes, a vital part of the veterans’ visually sophisticated concert. Surely, the crowd couldn’t be more pleased to help the group out on “You’ve Got Another Thing Comin'” and “Living After Midnight” whose momentum rode on the lightning-strike guitar licks flying from Richie Faulkner and Andy Sneap’s fretboards. It’s drummer Scott Travis, however, that, tightly locked into Ian Hill’s four-string rumble, came across as a star of the evening.
Not to an extent of Alice and his troupe of merry pranksters, of course. Acting within a book-imitating decor, Cooper was in fine voice and, scaling down the temporal expanse of their usual extravaganza due to a shared-soiree nature of the trek, gave his all to an array of singalong-inducing, time-tested, and still mind-numbing, numbers which had the thousands – of whom quite a few wore top hats, tails and Alice-esque mascara – carry the choruses of “Hey Stoopid” and other perennials. With “Ballad Of Dwight Fry” and the teenager-choir-abetted “School’s Out” the emotional highlights, he cut an avuncular figure on late-period favorites, including “Spark In The Dark” that hasn’t lost an iota of its original brilliance, and later-era gem “Dirty Diamonds” that’s kept its freshness for twenty years now, yet returning to the cold grind of “Brutal Planet” that elicits minimal response from fans only to provide Nita Strauss, Ryan Roxie and Tommy Henriksen with a chance to pass solos around.
Whether anyone expected this collective to delve into “The Revenge of Alice Cooper” remained unclear, but with the dusting off of “Muscle Of Love” and with giant Frankenstein on the prowl and the vocalist’s head guillotined off complaining could amount to the kind of nonsense the world of Alice and PRIEST will not tolerate. Otherwise, these consummate entertainers would have stopped being as relevant as they are.
Photo © Ross Robinson
