we’ll probably yell from each of our houses: ‘How amazing was that? Sleep well!’” What fans might not expect is how down-to-earth both men are when the makeup and stage gear come off. They have more in common than just metal. Both live in Phoenix. Both are sober, deeply reflective, and increasingly interested in the idea of legacy. When they get together, Halford says they often talk about family and everyday things, not work. “I know what he does for a living, he knows the ins and outs of what I do, you know?” he admits. “When you go to dinner with a friend from work, you often don’t want to discuss work!” Cooper is famously obsessed with golf. Halford, not so much. Halford enjoys cooking and jokes that his claim to fame is sloppy turkey tacos. He also once cooked a Thanksgiving turkey for a PNT reporter during an interview in the 1980s. Alice, on the other hand, has a tuna casserole recipe that has gone viral online. The domestic side of these icons doesn’t take away from their impact. If anything, it amplifies it. There’s a long- standing stereotype that hard rock and heavy metal are fueled by chaos, addic- tion, and rebellion. But Cooper and Halford have rewritten that narrative. Both are open about their sobriety, and both credit it for their continued rele- vance and well-being. Halford, who has been clean and sober since 1986, often speaks about how getting clean saved his life. He says that his Christian upbringing means more to him now than it did when he was younger. “If I hadn’t gotten clean, I’d be dead,” he has stated. Cooper, too, is a devout Christian who has been sober for nearly four decades. His Solid Rock Foundation has become a staple in the Phoenix area, offering after-school programs in music, dance and art for teens. It’s a place where creatively curious young people can explore their passions in a safe and nurturing environment. “I tell kids up front: There are five guys in a band and 30 people who run the show. And I couldn’t do it without them,” Cooper said to this journalist in a 2020 interview. “If you end up being a roadie or technician, that’s a pretty good living. … They realize they are bringing art into the world, and that’s important.” I’ve interviewed both men multiple times over the years, and what stands out most is how their values have deep- ened with time. During the pandemic, I interviewed Cooper and his wife, Sheryl, and mentioned that I had just found out I was pregnant with a boy. They both lit up with excitement and started offering baby name suggestions. “Cooper,” of course, was high on their list. They had just welcomed a grand- child at the time. That same year, I interviewed Halford about his memoir, “Confess.” He spoke from the Phoenix home he shares with longtime partner Thomas, who he’s been with for more than three decades (according to Consequence of Sound, they made their marriage offi- cial last year by the cactus on their property). During our Zoom interview, I had my two-month-old son on my lap, and Halford cooed and even sang a few bars. Now, his great-niece is seven years old. “They absorb music in the most beau- tiful way, like we all do, but particularly when you’re that age, and you’re discov- ering music, and how it makes you feel,” he reflects. It’s this sense of connection and continuity that defines their current tour. Each night, the crowd includes lifelong fans and new generations discovering metal for the first time. Grandparents, parents, and teens all headbang together. The music still hits hard, but it also resonates emotionally. “When it comes to both my and Alice’s music, our fans can go, ‘oh, that’s me; I relate to that,’” Halford says. “That’s happened to me in my life, or I know that’s happened to somebody else in my life. It’s very, very strong, powerful, relevant, potent.” That relevance comes from more than just loud guitars and pyrotechnics. Their latest music is sometimes politi- cally charged, sometimes spiritually reflective, and sometimes just glori- ously loud. But it never feels forced. Their longevity isn’t about keeping up with trends. It’s about staying honest. They aren’t trying to act young. They’re proving that metal doesn’t belong to the young alone. It belongs to anyone who lives it with heart. “The greatest thing about traveling and touring with a co-headlining band is that when it’s right, both bands can be friends,” adds Cooper. “Lack of ego and a dark sense of humor in both bands makes touring together a pleasure. And I think we challenge each other to be our best every night. There’s still always that big adrenaline hit when the crowd roars at the beginning of the show.” Halford sums it up best: “Of what our music does through the generations, much like Priest is doing, much like Alice is doing. Like a heavy metal Partridge Family.” He laughs, but there’s truth there. The fire and fury are still alive, but now they come with wisdom, perspective, and maybe even a good recipe now and then. Or as Halford said, thinking about the thrill of the stage and the power of connection: “The way you kind of complete yourself as an artist when you’re standing in front of your glorious fans that give you this life.” That’s what heavy rock represents today. Not just noise or nostalgia, but enduring meaning. And Alice Cooper and Rob Halford are still writing the soundtrack for it. Heavy Duty from p 14
