YOU were almost surprised to see crowds of people and hear music emanating from the Newcastle Entertainment Centre as you arrived on Tuesday night.
So has been the chaotic build-up to this concert. If ever there was an aptly-named tour, it was this. Pandemonium.
With poor ticket sales and spiralling insurance and production costs crippling festivals like Splendour In The Grass and Groovin' The Moo, the rock nostalgia-focused Pandemonium tour appeared next on the cancellation scrap heap.
But it survived, albeit with venue changes and with bands like Deep Purple, Placebo, and The Dead Kennedys removed from the line-up.
Newcastle fans fared reasonably well, unless if you bought a ticket to Alice Cooper wanting to catch Deep Purple on support.
Instead of getting separate Blondie and Cooper gigs, the Newcastle Entertainment Centre hosted a killer double act of two of the '70s most enduring US rock acts.
In all fairness to Blondie, Cooper was the main attraction. A glance around the 90 per cent capacity venue revealed a host of Alice Cooper t-shirts and eyes with his trademark black make-up.
Having said that, there's only a handful of bands who boast a back catalogue like Blondie and possess a frontwoman who is a genuine cultural icon.
Debbie Harry is 78, but remains every bit a purveyor of New York cool. She graced the stage in an over-sized hot pink suit, sunglasses and Nike platforms.
Understandably Harry's voice has lost much of its power and elasticity that she's famous for on Heart Of Glass and Rapture, and instead she relied on a raspy bark.
Her bandmates, with include founding drummer, the ever-impressive Clem Burke, and Sex Pistol Glen Matlock on bass, helped deliver a more muscular and punkish version of Blondie classics like Hanging On The Telephone, Call Me and One Way or Another.
Rapture also took on a more foreboding tone than the original version. If the album cut of The Tide Is High could be described as a pina colada, Tuesday night's live version was like a shot of Sambuca, followed by a beer chaser.
It took Heart Of Glass to finally get the audience involved.
"Just a little pandemonium, but we're here," Harry said.
Alice Cooper was on a whole other level. Yes, it's cheesy as hell with the cartoonish Frankenstein suits, straight jackets and fake severed head, and if you caught his 2017 gig at the Broadmeadow shed, you've seen the majority of the show before.
But it's fun. Pure and simple. It's what rock'n'roll was intended to be. The audience lapped it up with giant smiles.
How else can you approach a 75-year-old man belting out, "I'm eighteen and I like it." The vast majority of the audience passionately singing along haven't been 18 since the 20th century either.
If Cooper was the star of the show, he only narrowly surpassed guitarist Nina Strauss. The blonde bombshell was dazzling on the fretboard, ripping out solos interspersed by tossing her personalised plectrums into the crowd.
Cooper was a gracious frontman, readily letting Strauss and long-time guitarists Ryan Roxie and Tommy Henriksen share in the spotlight.
The night peaked with the delectable one-two punch of Feed My Frankenstein and Poison. Only Alice could make lyrics like, "I'm a hungry man/ But I don't want pizza/ I'll blow down your house/ And then I'm gonna eat ya", actually sound cool.
After a passionate version of Elected, sung from a pedestal framed with an Australian and Aboriginal flag, Cooper and band returned for the obligatory closer, School's Out,
"On behalf of the band, may all your nightmares be...horrific," Cooper said before leaving the stage.
Indeed, Cooper had turned a tour that appeared potentially horrific, into an evening of rock'n'roll revelry.
