Ace & Peter – In or Out?

’m not saying: Ace and Peter should not be in KISS. I’m just saying: Ace and Peter should not be in KISS NOW.

In 1973 KISS was belched forth – from Hell!!! – Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley and Peter Criss crafting their image as four individual characters, to appeal to different sets of fans. At the peak of this founding lineup’s success, Peter was fired in 1980. Over the next two years, Ace would meander out of the band, like a drunk looking for the exit…well…

After a successful unmasked 80’s run with Eric Carr and Bruce Kulick, Gene and Paul reapplied the warpaint and reunited with Ace and Peter for the 1996 Reunion Tour. By 2000, Ace and Peter were let go again, with Gene and Paul solidifying another successful lineup into the present with Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer – but this time – Tommy was wearing Ace’s Spaceman makeup, and Eric was wearing Peter’s Cat. Which sent some hardcore fans into Sweet Pain. Those fans would find their voices in an internet developing into a trash-talking haven for broken souls; not exactly SJWs, not exactly cancel culture, a maniacal contingent arose, whining for the reinstatement of Ace and Peter into the jobs they couldn’t hold, and didn’t want. I call them: Ace-LOONIES and Peter-LOONIES.

psycho circus

Look, I’m not saying: Ace and Peter should not be in KISS; hell, they molded our childhoods with music, makeup and mayhem. I’m just saying: Ace and Peter should not be in KISS NOW. You LOONIES, you’re probably very nice people; we all love the same bands, you hold good jobs, take care of your families, call your mother, and help old ladies cross the street. But what is it, when you see a familiar painted face on a different musician, and he’s playing an Epiphone instead of a Gibson, that makes you want to Murder in High Heels?

I feel your pain. We’re all KISS fans here. You feel you’ve been wronged. Like it’s not AC/DC without Bon, not Purple without Ritchie, not Heep without Byron, not Milli without Vanilli. But sometimes, you’ve got to wrong a few people, to do right by a lot of other people. Gene and Paul didn’t sack Ace and Peter to spite YOU. They were ousted from KISS, so that KISS would not be ousted from existence. And it’s now been proven through the 90s Reunion years that any attempt at re-living the *70s* is doomed to failure.

Let me speak to the musicians amongst the LOONIES: you know how GRUELING rock and roll is! You know how rigorous touring is, how brain-frying practicing is, how unforgiving an itinerary is; do you seriously think that current Ace and current Peter would be able or willing to fulfill their roles in an international touring band? In high heels?

crazy nights

Hey, LOONIES, I understand your love. Here I am, Here we are. We are one. And as much as we all want to recapture that spark of youth, Life has brutally moved on, not just for you and me, but for Ace and Peter as well. And I AM talking to us old–ahem– “weathered” fans, because let’s face it, if you’re under 20, and trolling about “Ace and Peter should be in KISS” – you gotta leave that conversation to those of us who molested our bedroom walls and ceilings with KISS posters.

ace

Ace is fantastic. He’s a fun guy; a creative, melodic guitarist, a great rock and roll composer. However, his head is not in the right airspace to be contracted to a band that requires so much more commitment than a tour whenever he “feels like it.” I saw Ace on his 1993 Tour called Just For Fun; one of the best live guitar sounds I’d ever heard, and Ace was cooking with ozone. But the tour name says it all – no commitment, Ace just wants his onstage fix in between card games and coke binges. Just for fun.

But, you say, rock n roll should be fun – of course it’s more fun than a cubicle job – but as soon as you get paid for your first gig in a toilet pub – it’s a JOB. And after 8 stellar post-KISS albums, Ace is more at home in his mid-level job, fronting shit-hot touring bands, than he is as the comic relief for KISS. He is planets above playing in toilet pubs, but that’s all he wants to do. And uh, Ace being sober? In every interview, Ace slips it in, unbidden, “I’ve been sober for the last 12 years” – yeh right, curly! Ace has been sober for the last 12 years – for the last 12 years!

peter

Peter was a jungle cat, a slamming drummer and driveway-gravel rock vocalist, but after the Classic Six, his own demons – drugs, alcohol, domineering girlfriends, and injured hands in a 1978 car accident – contributed to his firing back in 1980, after which he released two solo albums, then disappeared. Coming out of arguably the biggest band in the world, this cat couldn’t continue even a basic music career? It’s because Peter is not a musician (drummers gasp!) and needed others (like Stan Penridge) to craft his tunes, so he couldn’t command any respect; being an unmotivated scatterbrain he couldn’t command any loyalty either, as he attempted forming/joining numerous bands, producing only 4 mediocre post-KISS albums in 40 years, with sparse gigs in toilet pubs. His retirement in 2017 was noticed only by the 12 Peter-LOONIES who attended his final show… then blogged about how he should still be in KISS.

the elder

Now, you can be as LOONY as you want for Ace and Peter, though don’t let your love for them, make you disparage the blood, sweat and careers of these guys: Mr. Simmons and Mr. Stanley. They’re originals too, y’know. And they never left. They are now the embattled Elder gods of this corporate machine.

So it’s fully within their right to treat Ace and Peter like contractors during the 1996 Reunion, another bone of contention for the LOONIES. After being disconnected from the KISS organization for 15, 16 years, did Ace and Peter really think they would earn as much money as Paul and Gene, who kept the war machine on its tank treads through Flaming Youth and Odyssey? To be clear – KISS never broke up; if they did – then it would be fair for everyone to return and share equally. Peter especially loves playing the victim, complaining he’s not getting paid his fair share after being absent for 16 years. So lemme get this straight: you can be fired from a company in its fledgling stages, then when you’re invited back after the company is gigantic, you demand to earn as much as the CEOs who made it gigantic?  [“Are you crazy, Montana? Are you crazy?”]

unmasked

Rock historian Eddie Trunk speaks for many LOONIES when he cites his major beef with KISS – that Tommy and Eric are wearing OTHER people’s makeup. No, they’re not. They’re wearing authorized KISS makeup. Remember: it’s a brand. Gene and Paul are not insulting their legacy. They care about their legacy so much, they slapped it on two new guys that had nothing to do with it! That’s not disrespecting the legacy; that’s loving it long time! And by the way, why would you stop liking a band you grew up with – because of some face paint?

Paul makes a great observation to all those purists who maintain Tommy and Eric are “impostors” wearing the makeup. Now, Ace and Peter came to HATE wearing the makeup during the Reunion, basically “doing it for the money,” disrespecting the makeup by having their same drug and drink and mental problems from the 70s resurface during the 90s, with Ace regularly late, unpracticed, drunk or high, and Peter sabotaging shows… whilst Tommy and Eric wear the makeup proudly. In the final telling, the impostors – are the UN-masked.

And just to be clear: both Ace and Peter SOLD their makeup trademarks to KISS Catalog Limited a long time ago. Peter’s too loopy to admit it and Ace is too high to remember it.

childhood’s end

All insults aside, I understand that you LOONIES are really SUPERFANS, and advising the band that you love on how it can be improved by plugging 2 members back into it.

But really, think about it:
Paul is already struggling with vocals, so you wanna add Ace struggling with songs he didn’t bother re-learning?; you want Peter struggling to keep a straight beat for two hours without fainting? And you’re NOT going to complain? You complain when 68-year-old Paul misses a coupla high notes that he used to hit 40 years ago, and you’re NOT gonna complain when Ace turns up late to a show that cost you $600? Are you gonna give 75-year-old Peter a pass when a song has to be stopped halfway through because he’s drumming too slowly?

Think even more about it:
Ace won’t be allowed to play his solo dambusters Rip It Out or Trouble Walkin’ – he’ll have to stick to the songs he is bored of playing.
Peter keeps complaining KISS won’t re-hire him. in the next breath saying he hasn’t got the stamina for a full show, let alone a tour.

This is not speculation! This is what happened on the Reunion Tour after the two jackasses felt their jobs were stable enough to start giving less than 100%. You want to force two guys YOU love into a band they are incapable of being in – one of them can hardly hold drumsticks, and the other looks like a baked potato with French fries for legs.

In the final telling, if you’re a KISS fan – a “true” KISS fan – you’ll stop the infighting over the hottest band in the world, and appreciate all members for what they bring to the legacy – The Originals for their dirty rock and roll, Eric Carr’s double-kick thunder, Vinnie Vincent’s blues-metal bleeding, Mark St. John’s angry bees, Bruce Kulick’s technical electric, Eric Singer’s precision pounding and Tommy Thayer’s spectrum canonic.

Paul with CBS reporter Anthony Mason, who asks him whether Ace and Peter might be re-hired, for old times’ sake: “How many times you been married? How about for old times’ sake you go back and spend the night with your ex-wife? [Mason laughs] You wouldn’t make good music!…”

I’m not saying: Ace and Peter should not be in KISS. I’m just saying: Ace and Peter should not be in KISS NOW.

END

Japan: “We don’t care WHO play these songs – all you KISS guys look same to us!”

15 Reasons Not To Like KISS: the George Lucas Effect.

he album Jigoku-Retsuden (“Legends From Hell”) is 15 old KISS songs (from mainly the makeup era), re-recorded by the then-current lineup of KISS (Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Tommy Thayer, Eric Singer), exclusively for sale in Japan. Because, I guess, the Japanese like to hear KISS classics that don’t sound anything like KISS.

Originally released in 2008, I heard Jigoku-Retsuden as one of the Bonus Discs included in the Sonic Boom release (2009). When I first put the CD in, I didn’t know what I was hearing, as there are no liner notes about this Disc anywhere on the fold-out packaging, except for the disc title “KISS Klassics” and the song titles. I honestly thought it was either a KISS cover band doing oldies with modern production, OR that KISS had remixed their oldies with wildly different EQ, especially on the drums, and with different vocal takes from the original recordings, that were not used at the time. I would never have guessed that my heroes would have gone into the studio to re-hash these cobwebbed standards unnecessarily for only one of their overseas markets, with their never-before-recorded lineup, when they could-have/should-have been releasing new material with that same talented lineup.

WARNING: THIS ALBUM IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR ACE-LOONIES OR PETER-LOONIES.

It was 10 years since Psycho Circus, KISS’s last album of new material, with the original lineup that was doomed to re-split from the moment they re-grouped (Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley and Peter Criss), and Simmons and Stanley had made it clear that they didn’t want Psycho to be their last original album (that’s how much they wanted to cast off the stank of that dumbo duo), so one would think they’d camp in some studio until a new album of original material was birthed… but no! They camped in a studio alright – only to re-record their halcyon hits from yesteryear! I mean, Whaaaa–?

The reason the vocals sound like alternate takes of the original material is that Gene’s and Paul’s vocals surprisingly sound almost exactly like their takes from 25 to 35 years ago, in timbre and inflection! Yet minute variations give them away that they’re not the original tracks. Still, think about what a feat that is: vocalists never sing their songs exactly like the record over time – at any given live performance, listen to the way Paul has embellished his vocal lines over the years – and now he’s gone back into the studio and sung them practically note for note and inflection for inflection like he did decades ago?! That’s commitment (misplaced as it is)! And the only reason we can pick up on those minute variations is because WE are the crazy ones; WE’VE grown so used to hearing those recorded tracks a certain way that any slight deviation skips our lie detector needles.

It’s also a testament to Tommy Thayer’s abilities that he can reproduce Ace’s guitar lines so exactingly, although he does sound “too” polished, not as “dirty” as Ace’s original lines. That’s not necessarily a bad thing – but it IS here, where it is sullying our childhood memories of that “sound” we grew up with.

The old songs (Deuce, Hotter Than Hell) benefit from the upgraded production, especially in the crisp drum sounds (even though they are robbing us of our youth – those early songs were recorded terribly, but it’s that very imperfection that we’re used to hearing, that we love as legacy); while the songs from the 80’s era (Heaven’s On Fire, Lick It Up, Forever) sound just terrible. The production was great on those 80’s songs in their original form. And don’t even speak of specialty songs like I Love It Loud, where Eric Carr’s original mountainous Bonham homage is completely lost!

On Detroit Rock City there is much wrong and much right: WRONG – gone is that Bob Ezrin production of those skyscraper drums and that spaciousness of the track; gone are those foley tidbits of the youth in his car… RIGHT: Paul is still hitting the high-C in the verses; as always, the abilities of Thayer and Singer to reproduce what was once someone else’s feel and lines is incredible to hear.

Shout It Out Loud suffers from the same problems as Detroit, coming from the same album – lost the spaciousness (and the big piano octaves mimicking the riff). And here’s an example of a miniscule moment that means the world to a listener recapturing his youth every time he hears this song: Gene’s line, “Just forget the things that you been told!” – in this new recording, he is not exactly flat on the high note, but he rolls off the target, whereas in the original, he hits the high “for-GET” cleanly and powerfully. That was a key moment for ME that made me love the song – and it has been lost… As there would be other innumerable key moments lost for other listeners; who knows what fans focus on? Who knows what memories people are conjuring, that will be ruined by the smallest shift in dynamic on any of these songs?

Hotter Than Hell, lifted from one of the worst-produced albums – just sounds WEIRD. With its righteous production now, it sounds WRONG. They didn’t try to recapture the cardboard drums or the lounge-room ambience of the original one bit – and it’s a tough call, because in re-recording anything, you’re going to try to BE BEST, right? But in art… I dunno if that’s the way to go.

And so it goes with all the songs on Jigoku-Retsuden, WRONG and RIGHT elements seesawing, creating this WEIRD seesaw of emotions in your kisser (I Was Made for Lovin’ You – Paul vetoes singing the highest of the high falsetto lines in the breakdown; Calling Dr Love – love the groovy drumming Eric Singer puts into the 2^nd verse, but then overall the production sounds too slick for my old-fan ears; Love Gun sounds exact, but then Thayer does the pinch harmonics after the solo an octave lower than Ace did them and ruins my buzz; Singer lays a great caustic vocal on Black Diamond, and Thayer imitates Frehley so well – and they even include the slowing-down effect in the outro, like the original – that it gets us wondering again about the validity of this whole project in the first place. If it’s this exact – why do it?

Musicians, take a lesson: NEVER go back into your previous art and re-do it. NEVER.

For anyone over 40, this album is an evil twin, a twisted clone, something unclassifiable and alien. Listening to the re-done songs makes me uncomfortable. It was an income generator for a specific market (Japan), and was not released anywhere else in the world, which makes me believe KISS Mgmt must have been aware it might adversely affect longtime fans in Caucasian markets (not to mention the Ace-Loonies and Peter-Loonies who must have hit the roof when they realized their demagogues were being replaced on classic songs!). To be clear: Simmons and Stanley were in no way trying to erase their history—ahem, KISStory by “recording over” any past recordings and re-releasing them as if they’ve always been that way (unlike the venal Ozzy Osbourne Mgmt recording over Daisley’s and Kerslake’s tracks), and were not trying to make people forget that Ace, Peter, Mark, Vinnie or Bruce ever existed (unlike Priest’s or Maiden’s unfortunate dealings with substitute singers). They were simply leveraging an overseas market; it’s not a grift, it’s not a scam, it’s new product in exchange for yen (even though all the tracks would find their way onto YouTube for free, and even though some diehards like myself might dispute the exact meaning of “new”).

KISS have George Lucas-ed themselves into a wasted opportunity. The only people inclined to love this album are those fans young enough to think that Greedo shot first.

END

Gene bastes his meat before eating it.

“Asshole” proves he’s anything butt.

hen Gene Simmons called his 2004 solo album Asshole, who knew it would be such a wondrous eclectic mix of genres and variegated song stylings? And yet, we should have guessed this co-instigator of KISS had it in him, from the tenor of his last solo album, released in 1978 under the KISS aegis, Gene Simmons, which exhibited many more shades than his hard rock compatriots’ solo albums.

From swoony romancers to slamming sexers, from Bob Dylan to Frank Zappa, from metal to EDM and bossa nova, there are so many great songs and emotions on this album, it’s a shame it is not more widely recognized (reaching 86 on the US Billboard charts). There is something for everyone – the characteristic bat-demon growl on the hard rockers (which are a bit too grating for my taste, i.e. the genre for which Simmons is renowned are the throwaway tracks), to mid-tempo fun rock and roll, to Gene baring his soul on tributes to his recently-passed father and paeans to his wife, family and friends. Truly, the wild beauty of Asshole are those moments that Gene 20 years ago would have termed “experimental.”

If there are too many cooks and your art fails, you can point the finger and farm out blame; conversely, if your art succeeds, and you are at the helm… Full credit to Simmons for producing the album, coaxing out the various tonal shades and humor and poignancy and just plain enjoyable listening. Of the 13 songs, Simmons writes or co-writes all except 3.

Many hardcore KISS fans, or meat & potatoes hard rock fans might classify Simmons’ vanity project as a work of suck precisely for its varied scope, but Simmons makes clear he doesn’t give a fuck what people think and, in this case at least, triumphs with his unilateral judgment. (And hey, how many solo albums have THEY had in the Top 100? Yeh, I thought so…)

Even that album cover defies our expectations. We see a horde of women swarming one man and take it for granted that Simmons would have hand-picked the cream of the crop… but take a closer look – they’re all…. UGLY women! (Affirming those legendary tales of Gene picking up anything that barely walks, breathes, or identifies as his species.) Simmons has steered into so many left curves with this album, it could only end up right.

Firstly, let’s get these throwaways out of the way: Sweet & Dirty Love, Weapons of Mass Destruction, and Carnival Of Souls. These 3 heavy rockers serve a few purposes – to remind listeners of Gene’s heritage, to please the headbangers, and to grate on my eardrums. They have their good points (Bruce Kulick and Eric Singer play on the first two), yet their production seems hedonistically bombastic for no good reason. Especially when compared to all the other tracks, where such nuance is brought to bear…

Firestarter – a Who Wounda Thunk? moment, as Gene covers The Prodigy’s EDM masterpiece, featuring Dave Navarro on guitar. As in: Who Woulda Thunk the guy from KISS even heard of The Prodigy, let alone love their 1996 single enough to cover it and release it as his own single? A little weird hearing this American rock monster “singing” this song, though – it really needs that cockney British to make it pop, with Gene instead doing some kind of half-baked Australian accent. “I’m a Firestarter”–? More like “Oyma Foya-stahta”! And though Gene “rocks up” the song, he retains those little features that distinguish this rave staple – that wah-guitar and those little “toolooloolool” sound effects between the verse lines. The video features a bevy of ball-draining cum whores, trying to drain Gene, who is dressed like a pimp.

Waiting For The Morning Light. Another set of words you never thought you’d see together: Co-written by Bob Dylan and Gene Simmons. By Gene’s account: sometime in 1995, sitting in the same room at Gene’s house, both these legends crafted this country-tinged tune.

Beautiful. Funny how in the ‘80s, Gene used to tease Paul about his “pussy songs” – how Paul just had to include a pussy song per album. Now Gene’s got 4 or 5 on his own solo album. Then again, this song, written by Mark Addison and Nina Singh, celebrates a woman who isn’t exactly “natural” – calling her “silicone honey” and describing her towering height and 6-inch heels – in other words, saying that the surface is beauty, whereas every other song in this vein likes to think it delves deeper under the skin.

Gene Simmons 2004. The introspective demon.

Asshole. The title track is one of the better songs on the album, however there are some uncharacteristically dumb lines, like “You’re such a creep / You look like a sheep” to describe the “asshole” he is singing to. Also: “You always look like an idiot”… those aren’t necessarily the traits of an asshole. Being a creep is acceptable; or “One day you’ll finally shut your trap” – but looking like a sheep? That’s more like a nerd, right?

Frank Albin Tostrup is a one-man band on this song, writing, playing drums, bass and guitar, with Gene only contributing lead vocals. Gene himself says he’s filled with envy that he didn’t write the title track. Tostrup is ambiguously European, which may account for the weird lyrics.

I know Gene would like us to think that “Maybe I’m an asshole too…” but we see you, Gene – anyone who writes Now That You’re Gone or 1,000 Dreams can’t be that much of an asshole. Right?

Now That You’re Gone. This slow lament features Gene’s daughter Sophie on choral backing vocals, and Bob Kulick (illustrious bro of Bruce) as co-writer. At first it sounds like the usual “love lost” trope, but then we hear the lines, “You left us when I was much too young / And I was your only son…” My heart skips: oh my god – it’s for Gene’s father…

Feri Witz, who had abandoned Gene and his mother Flora Klein in Israel when Gene was only 6, died in May 2002. From Gene’s account, he never had much love for the man, but with this 2004 song, it seems Gene is absolving his father of past sins. The poignancy is that Gene’s lyrics don’t go off on a success-as-revenge bender. He doesn’t say “Now that you’re gone, I’ll take my riches and enjoy my life” – no. He takes the humble road:
“Now that you’re gone / I’ll go on living
And I’ll carry on just the same / You’re not to blame…”

It would not be until March 2011, when Gene would feel the full impact of his father’s passing, when his  family in Israel take him to visit the final resting place of Feri Witz. In the most touching FAMILY JEWELS episode ever (S6, Ep5-6 “Blood Is Thicker Than Hummus,” aired June 2011), the great KISS instigator breaks down and weeps inconsolably at his father’s grave; a humbling and saddening experience. At least this heartfelt song would stand as a final gift.

Whatever Turns You On (Turns Me On) – fun-loving and repetitive honkytonk rock, featuring the person who has somehow turned on this self-admitted philanderer for the past 20 years – Shannon Tweed (and her mother Louise) on backing vocals.

Dog. Co-written by a guy named Bag (dude, how do people find you on the internet?!), the two high points of this satire are the high harmony above Gene’s baritone, and the take on Red Riding Hood, “And you say, ‘That’s a big tongue you’ve got!’, and I say, ‘The better to EAT you with, my dear’…”

Black Tongue is an original Zappa 7/8 experiment, licensed by Simmons and turned into a bluesy sleazy rocker.

Zappa would have been pals with Gene purely for the fact Gene achieved a monstrous level of fame that allowed him access to Zappa. I’m sure Zappa would never have had Gene join his band onstage or co-write a song with him. Still, there’s nothing stopping Gene from being a giant Zappa fan (like the rest of us) and paying tribute to him by covering one of his riffs.

When Frank was alive, he invited me over to his home and I sat around with his family, and he was very gracious. After he passed away, I asked his wife whether or not he had any unfinished songs, and [Frank’s son] Dweezil brought over a thirty-second tidbit of a piece originally called ‘Black Tongue.’
— Gene Simmons, Rolling Stone, 2004

We hear the original Zappa recording in lo-fi – until Simmons’ new instrumentation punches it into modern production and simplified 4/4 shuffle – and at points we hear snippets of the genius himself, offering nuggets of wisdom. Just as he used his own family on Whatever Turns You On, Simmons now has Frank’s widow and progeny provide backing vocals – Gail, Moon and Ahmet – with Dweezil scarring into the guitar solos.

Carnival of Souls. From a hastily-tossed-off album name (Carnival Of Souls, 1997) to a demo for the Reunion album Psycho Circus (1998), to a final realization as an annoying thrash-like track on this 2004 album. I just don’t like songs where the snare is hit on EVERY beat. Stop that noise!

If I Had A Gun. About an outcast who feels like a gun would solve his problems. Not something we’d expect from the mind of Simmons, and surely, this was a song mainly written by that guy whom no one can find on the internet, Bag – who happens to be the first artist signed to Simmons Records. Good luck with that career name choice, dude… It’s 20 years later, and I STILL can’t find you on a Google search.

1,000 Dreams, written for his love of over 20 years (at the time), Shannon Tweed (although Gene self-admittedly had not stopped screwing around yet, because – asshole!), this relaxed, romantic bossa nova features lush strings, a lap steel guitar solo,  and intentionally untidy double-tracking of Gene’s voice, with intent to make him sound like an old-timey crooner. And surely, any teen would swoon if their boyfriend were to croon this to them, with this sentiment.

After the chorus, there is an extra 2/4 bar, which is made to sound like a relaxed pause before launching the next verse. It’s brilliantly done, inserting an old-school vibe into what we know must be a song underpinned with a click-track.

The majority of singing on the album is Simmons in a lower register; we rarely hear this voice on KISS releases, unless he’s trying to sound ominous. And he swoons effortlessly into his higher chest voice and then into head and falsetto. And his falsetto is not that power-falsetto of Rob Halford, or even that rock-falsetto of his mate, Paul Stanley, rather this beautiful pure falsetto (that he used once at the end of his first solo album in 1978, in Wish Upon A Star). Of course, Simmons necessarily uses the demon voice on the heavier tracks, but on this album it is absolutely not his mainstay.

The songs on Asshole were completed after The Reunion Tour, which means that these ideas were bubbling inside Gene Simmons for years, maybe decades. I really wish he (and Paul Stanley) had allowed themselves to cultivate this kind of eclecticism in KISS. Who knows how they could have grown as a band? Who knows if the original lineup might have been saved for the interesting diversity they brought to each album? Yeh, shoulda woulda coulda… Makes one wonder what more Simmons is capable of, and what is left unreleased in his vault. Will some young far out artist one day come along and ask the same thing of Shannon Tweed?

END

KISS vs. Muhammed in a Battle to the Bitch.

Even though KISS 2020 GOODBYE is one of the biggest single rock shows on planet Earth, there’s something much bigger at stake here: the future of live music. Overcoming the diabolical logistics of the covid pandemic to put on this mastodon show didn’t just prove how meticulous KISS and their crew are, it opened the festering wound of humanity’s isolation; if this is how we now experience the inscrutable visceral excitement of “live music” then the terrorists don’t have to worry any more about dismantling Western society – the virus has won their war. So come with me as I review not just this bombastic gig, but how it reveals religious idiocies, the venal side of capitalism and the death of rock and roll.

On Dec 31^st, 2020, the year of living dangerously, KISS performs a one-off concert at the Atlantis Hotel in Dubai, on a 250-foot outdoor stage built just for this event, using record-breaking pyrotechnics. And with covid restrictions firmly in place, none of their live audience could get within 200 feet of the stage, with most viewing it from hotel balconies a football field away, so crowd noise was barely above a churchmouse whisper – because people were too spread out for effective ambient miking; and with fans around the world streaming it on Pay Per View, no matter the gargantuan virtual audience, the end result looks like KISS is playing – to an empty stadium; Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer look like they’re merely doing a light-sound-and-pyro production check. And with Paul’s once chest-beating male id stage banter reduced to half-chested non-sequiturs, this band that is usually so intent on OPTICS fail to realize how terrible this all looks from a civilian loungeroom point of view.

Now let’s understand something – the SHOW is eye-dazzling, the SOUND is ear-delicious, with Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer riding fluidity and finesse; with Gene’s bass the closest it’s ever been to resurrecting Lemmy, and Paul giving it all he’s got, of what he has left. But this is not how live music should ever be presented or consumed – with the live audience not even breathing the same air as the live band. And that’s the point in these horrible times, isn’t it? To not share the same airspace as each other. And that’s EXACTLY the opposite philosophy to live music. Live rock and roll IS blood and sweat and piss and spit. It’s ferocious and loud and tactile; it’s being amongst a hive of like-minded homo sapiens swaying in unison and EXPERIENCING the air washing over you as sound waves. But now, as long as this “thing” is in the air, live music – that which needs the AIR to expand over us – is dead. Gene Simmons has said many times, “Rock and roll is dead” which is a different long discussion – but he never meant THIS. The REAL death of rock and roll.

So – with no crowd to experience the wash of decibels – what’s the point in this faraway show?

The KISS New Years Eve Show: too far away to matter.

Pre-production started in July 2020 – 5 months to put this 10 million dollar show together; it took 4 weeks to build that stage, on the Royal Beach, facing inland toward the Atlantis hotel. 70 palm trees on the beach had to be removed, which, the production manager is quick to add, they replaced after the show. Of course you did – or you’d get your hands chopped off! Remember where we are, whiteboys! We’re in the United Arab Emirates. These people own Halliburton and the U.S. presidency. Even more than China. There are cranes and semi-trailers and earth-moving equipment; hundreds of elevated trusses and a massive lighting rig, all based around a 50 camera shoot. Not to mention all the meticulous covid precautions over and above the regular crewing schedules. The band directly faces the empty pool in the hotel courtyard; beyond that, the hotel’s towering rooms stretch up and away. And behind the stage, a massive lighted KISS logo for Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea.

From the hour-long pre-show junket, we get an appreciation for the massive undertaking. Yet, this junket opens up even more questions, like: what’s in it for KISS? Think about it: if the show cost 10 million dollars to produce, and the current Pay-Per-View record for a livestream rock concert is 10.4 million dollars (as the Guinness Records Man reports), even if KISS hits that record, would Simmons and Stanley be content to walk away with a mere $400K for 6 months of work? Nah, there’s something bigger and darker that no one will talk about – I’m thinking that Gene and Paul made a pretty oil-soaked penny for this glorified soundcheck, which they could have staged in the U.S. – but the United States would not have showered them as much as those Arab princes with wrath-of-god money purely to say they PWNED those dusty Israelites.

Oh, Dubai! I mean – DO BUY!

That fine line between being a masked band and wearing masks.

And the Gene and Paul interviews on the junket confirm my speculations. Gene: “Dubai is a 22^nd century city… all nationalities, creeds, religions, everybody just co-existing together… Nobody looks at you a different way, if you dress this way or that way, if you have religious insti–or not”– What the FUCK is he talking about? These Middle Eastern lands are tyrannized by the most extreme religious nutjobs on the planet: they will stone you to death for adultery; they will BEHEAD you for drawing a picture of their prophet! Notice how Gene swerved out of his religion misspeak – “religious insti–or not”? [LAFF] He told “The Oakland Press” that Dubai said, ‘You can do anything you want here, no restrictions.’ Yet at this very gig, KISS had to change lyrics so as not to offend the extreme religious nutjobs who have a stranglehold on the culture. Gene, I love you more than anyone, man, but – the hell?! For the first time in my life, I feel the sting of Gene Simmons being paid to do something completely at odds with his principles. All his merch and moneymaking deals and opinions on wars, women and politics are still within his principles – so I’m not recanting any of my reverence for him – but this! – Have they got his children or something?

Same goes for Paul: “I’ve already spoken with my wife and my kids and said, ‘We’re coming back to Dubai! You have to see this place! It’s absolutely amazing!’” Not mentioning they’ve already got his wife and kids – in a dungeon. I mean, that must be why he’s…

And Eric just puts his paw in his mouth: “We don’t go out of our rooms or anything. I mean, we follow testing and protocol, and basically we’re kind of – I don’t wanna say prisoner, but we’re kind of prisoners on our floor of a hotel and we only went downstairs to rehearse, and that’s it.” (Has Eric come back from Dubai yet?)

A stage fit to please an imaginary muslim deity.

And KISS’s manager Doc McGhee doesn’t help. Of all his out-of-touch musings, here’s the most out-of-touch: “…you can feel that energy of a live musical performance. Can you do it with 2 cameras or 4 cameras? No. …Can you do it in a soundstage? No. Can you do it in a 250-foot stage with a million 200,000 dollars worth of pyro. Yeh… And hopefully this turns into the experience that other bands can start moving forward and saying, ‘Hey I’m gonna do this!’” Hey, I’m gonna do this! You mean, all I need for my band to start working again is 50 broadcast cameras and a million 200,000 dollars worth of pyro? Why didn’t anybody tell me this? But if you need all that stuff, then why is the coolest thing on the junket the KISS retrospective, where we see KISS onstage in 1973, at the infamous toilet pub called The Coventry in Queens NY? (see SIDEBAR video) Reportedly their 24^th live gig, a couple of months before the first album was released: more compelling than any pyro that can blow a hole in the world, complete with that one drunk chick dancing. (We all know that chick, don’t we, bandguys?)

And now, 47 years and tens of thousands of gigs later, the KISS juggernaut perform this greatest show on Earth [record scratch] – to no one. Yes, there were the balconies and the virtual audience – but KISS might as well be back in Coventry. And the closest any drunk chick could get was 200 feet away, across the pool, with a mask. This is not how the gregarious human species is meant to rock and roll all night and party every day. Not that I’m anti-mask – I’m anti-virus. As long as it’s around – live entertainment is dead. OR whatever this is… So let’s look at some of these songs that offended allah, the sensitive bitch.

Detroit Rock City

I’m not covering all 22 songs in the full show, just hitting a few key points. (The full list is in the sidebar.) KISS tears into their classic opener, from the Destroyer album 1976, as they descend on those hexagonal pods, a staple of the End of The Road Tour. The height of technology, the pods double as lights and video screens and part of the roof design, but I’m not a fan of them – I dunno, they just look like Macy’s.

Detroit Rock City is in Cm, so Paul used to sing the high C5 in each verse, but the band is tuned down a semitone, so he’s now singing a B4, just under the C; still amazing for his age and vocal issues. His voice is alternately strong and weak. The strong lines, we hear the Starchild, but when he cracks, the illusion breaks. But let’s establish from the get-go that supervocalist Paul had surgery in 2011 for “vocal cord issues.” He was 59, and said it was “a complete success” – but it wasn’t. He said his voice was “cracking” – and it’s still happening. Then again – maybe he might have lost it completely if he didn’t have the surgery. On the other hand, Julie Andrews also had vocal cord surgery – lost her voice!! Lindsey Buckingham had heart surgery – and because of that tube they callously ram down your throat – damaged his vocal cords!! Whenever you bow to the knife, there’s no coming back. You are NEVER the same. All I know is, one of our rock gods has fallen.

And it just looks weird when he’s saying – in that “crowd” voice – “How ya doin’?!” seemingly to no one. Usually, at KISS live shows, we always see shots of the crowd intercut with the band on the big screens. But here – there are no cameras on any of the faraway people – it seems like the band is alone in some other dimension.

OPTICS!

Say Yeah

Say Yeah is from Sonic Boom in 2009, which Bruno Mars ripped off quite blatantly in 2010 with Grenade. I love Bruno Mars – he’s a monster talent, but don’t go turning Paul’s crowd anthems into simp anthems, Brunes!

Tears Are Falling

Oh yes! From 1985’s Asylum. But I wanna hear Tears Are Falling in Paul’s 1985 voice – at his vocal peak. Too much to ask of this shitty world where everything must grow old and die?

War Machine

Yeh, you BETTER watch out…

The diabolical outro song on 1982’s Creatures Of The Night, the last album before the makeup came off. Co-written by Bryan Adams – yes, THAT balladeer. There is YouTube footage of this complete song – from one of the balconies at the Atlantis. Which begs the question: who buys a ticket to a rock show and then watches it from a balcony? And someone at the back of a 20,000 seat arena will pipe up, “Yeh, but I’M a football field away – and having a good time.” Yes, but you’re part of the crowd, that stretches from you to the stage – there’s a euphoric transcendence in being a part of that hive-mind. And if we watch that show on TV, we’re connected to all you people connected to the stage.

For the KISS ticket holder who paid $999.00, yes it includes a ton of swag, but the event itself is dispiriting. How long can live music sustain this grift? Is the younger generation never going to experience anything as visceral, sensual and tactile as Woodstock, Rock Am Ring, Bonnaroo or Coachella ever again? Will there ever be another Live at Leeds, Farm Aid, or No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith? Whether you think it’s a hoax or not, whether it IS a hoax or not – this is where we are – no matter the power of those princes, the virus has made us all its bitch.

Calling Dr. Love

One of my favorite KISS songs, from 1976’s Rock and Roll Over. Artist Michael Doret designed that cover. (And 33 years later, designs Sonic Boom.) Hearing Gene’s voice sounding as strong and powerfully gravel as always, returns us to a warm safe place. It transports us back to wondering whether these beings were superheroes or spacemen. I think that’s what selfishly offends us about Paul’s voice. Those warm memories of floating in the KISS womb are cracked open when we hear he is only human.

100,000 Years

(see SIDEBAR video) Gene opens 100,000 Years (from the first album, KISS, 1974) with a ferocious deadly gallop, before anyone ever heard of Iron Maiden; Tommy pulling off those Ace arpeggios like metallic clockwork. And then – Paul’s forced lyric swap. The lyrics: “It must have been a bitch while I was gone…” are changed to: “It must have been a trip while I was gone…” because – get this! – there is legislation in the United Arab Emirates against “disgracing the honour or the modesty of another person” – Article 373 of the Penal Code.  Ironic, considering the UAE treat women like bitches.

So stopping Paul Satan-ley from saying ‘bitch’ here – Does allah forgive him for saying ‘bitch’ at those 10,000 other gigs? But Paul gets the last laugh – in the final verse, he drops in that ‘bitch’– (Has Paul come back from Dubai yet?)

God of Thunder

(see SIDEBAR video) Before God of Thunder, Gene usually spits blood – a horrifying journey into the frayed mind of a spasming bat-demon vomiting the entrails of its latest prey… Unless the very people that Gene claims are open-minded prohibit him from spitting blood. Because – allah. So after Gene tools around with his whale noises and contorted faces (and NO BLOOD), he rises to the rafters to growl into the heaviest tritone riff since the devil invented tritone riffs without checking with the arabs first.

Yes, Gene had to change “I was raised by the demons” to “I was born with the fever” (ha!) and “virgin soul” was changed to “sacred soul” (which sounds like sacred GOAL, for some reason) – but witness this fresh stupidity: every hex monitor shows him with a bloodied face during the song! And the bloodied faces are much more visible to the audience that his real tiny clean face. Do these censors not see the contradiction in what they’re censoring?— aw right, religious nutjobs, right… You know, Paul’s original demo for God of Thunder was a disco freakout – maybe they shoulda just done THAT version.

It weakens our respect when these guys who taught us never to take shit from anyone are rolling over like bitches. “I was raised by the demons” – when I listen closely, it does sound suspiciously like “I was bought by the Saudis.”

Beth

Eric Singer: drummer, singer, composer, mime.

Eric sings Beth – which he does much better than Peter – while playing a glittery baby grand, which he plays as well as Peter – meaning, NOT AT ALL. What a snide way to ruin a great song! Y’know, I could just make the gag, “Nice miming, Eric” and move on – but I’m gonna PROVE this outlandish fraud. Exhibit A, Your Honor: if he truly was playing, there’d be camera angles on his hands – because it’s a cool novelty – but they’ve meticulously crafted 50 CAMERAS to avoid his hands. Exhibit B: fan video from Sweden in 2019 shows his hands – as he freezes them in position and clops them down on the keys in the exact same position for every chord change. Meaning: either it’s an unmiked piano, a non-functional piano, or that Eric is a GENIUS for changing to 15 different chords without changing his finger position on the keys! The only question remaining, Your Honor: How bad does this look to musicians?

OPTICS!

Strutter

Paul introduces Strutter by apologizing! “We haven’t rehearsed this but… I mean, this is live, so we get to make mistakes and everything.” What irks me is not the lie about rehearsal – they rehearsed the shit out of this! – it’s the apology. Man, what happened to the confident godking who strutted across the Animalize stage with his 5 foot love gun?

This is what the loss of his grand instrument has done to him psychologically – he feels the need to apologize, not for the song or the mistakes they might make – but for his very essence not being there for us! Paul used to say nothing important in his stage banter, but it was so entertaining to listen to – the simple rock poetry of sex on the hoof. But his confidence – gone, with his voice! The banter at this concert is like reading a phone book. Because he knows he doesn’t have the Walk to back up his Talk anymore! And if you think Paul is using backing tracks to bolster his vocals: Would anyone use backing tracks that cracked so much? Really?!

And in the song, he’s not pushing much air any more, as he pules those long notes at the end of each phrase like a drowning man gasping for air. Again, it’s all about the air, this time, from Paul’s lungs. It’s because his damaged throat can’t handle the amount of air it takes to power these songs like pistons. Now to be fair, Paul’s shot-to-hell voice is still better than most rock singers today. It’s just not the grandiose tyrannosaur it used to be. I feel for Paul the most – trapped in the vessel that USED TO BE Paul Stanley the vocal god; to know the acrobatic feats he once pulled off, and to realize he CAN. NOT. DO. THAT. THING. he was once best at doing! The physical and psychological struggle must be killing him. Paul was so good, he pulled off the lead in PHANTOM OF THE OPERA in 1999. Yet now, The End Of The Road Tour is named after what he no doubt sees for himself, and the pandemic has robbed him of so many shows – so I don’t begrudge him going out with this weird bang. Fuck old age. Fuck operations. And fuck the pandemic.

Do You Love Me

After Strutter, before Do You Love Me – the worst stagecraft of all, as we see the band milling aimlessly as a Guinness Records rep walks onstage. Now at the end of every show, the band does mill aimlessly as they engage with the fans along the foot of the stage and come together gradually for the “KISS bow.” It looks fine in the context of a packed, screaming crowd, but in total silence, with no crowd? We ask ourselves what’s going on, as the Guinness man mumbles about records concerning the pyro and other stuff that he can’t confirm – OK man, juggle or something because you’re grinding this show to a standstill. Paul has to cut him off on mic because the year-end countdown has started and KISS almost miss it due to Mr. Excitement reading his clipboard.

Holding the record for the most people ever not there.

In Konclusion…

KISS 2020 GOODBYE is a weird experiment that made a lot of people money, made a lot of people happy, and made a lot of seagulls toast. The show per se is excellent; if you were there, even with the forced physical distance, the spectacle would be dazzling. However, there’s no one to feed off – so when Paul says “How ya doin!” to a smattering of far-off cheers, it lacks that joyous spark of excitement due to no connection with anyone. How does the band even keep its energy? Well, let’s just keep our eyes on that prince’s paycheck.

Washington high schools: Missing the point entirely.

Paul talks about the pandemic – a lot – more than he should. It’s depressing. And I understand the band is being responsible in promoting physical distance. But why do it at all? If you’re REALLY responsible, you’ll tell your fans to stay home. Right? And your 400-man crew were all tested like maniacs every day – but look at all this added expense to put on a show that wasn’t even an ideal live experience! This contradiction, this double-standard, this trying-to-do-it-halfway is not helping.

I saw KISS in 1992 on the Revenge Tour, 10 feet from Gene. And it’s next level connection when you experience the artist and his music amidst the maelstrom of a live crowd. And now we’ve come to THIS: a Washington State high school band with each kid in their own little tent playing their instrument; enclosing the very air that should be transmitting those sound waves to our ears! Of course it sounds like shit! Stop doing this and driving live music even further into the grave!

In the end, live music is not about pyro and pay-per-view and princes. It’s simply about BEING THERE, and if you’re not there, feeling CONNECTED to the crowd that IS there.

OPTICS!… bitches…

END

“Don’t move – or I pull the trigger on my love gun.”

Looking back at the Future.

Back in 1984, when Tom Selleck was kinda a leading man and Gene Simmons was kinda an actor, they made a movie called RUNAWAY. Kinda.

It is The Future, and “robots” are aiding every facet of humanity, from drones with cameras in them (you don’t say!) to Artificial Intelligence nanny robots (that look like a boxy R2-D2). When a robot runs amok, you call in the Runaway Squad, headed by Jack Ramsey (Selleck). He knows how to flip a switch to turn them OFF apparently. His new partner is Thompson (striking blond cutie Cynthia Rhodes), who turns him ON.

They discover one of the runaways was actually programmed to kill a particular person. So – not a runaway – but murder. The man behind this new “chip” technology is Dr. Luther (Simmons, loaning himself out from KISS, and being derelict in supplying his partner Paul Stanley with decent songs for their Animalize album).

Catering to the synergy of movies about technology and A.I. (ELECTRIC DREAMS, 2010: ODYSSEY TWO, THE TERMINATOR), RUNAWAY does its best to predict and portray future tech, but its release date is so far in the past (1984), that it has dated worse than Aquanet.

Great thriller novelist and adequate director, Michael Crichton said he wanted it that way, citing the “primitive” tech of the machines being the catalyst that necessitates the Runaway Squad, hence driving the plot of the movie. Ramsey doesn’t trust the machines, and would much rather a human touch than cold steel. (“Don’t use the machine! Let a person do it!”) The mostly-outdated machines (drones, bomb robots, and RC toy cars) are mixed in with vastly-superior A.I. (police sketch artist robots, nanny robots, smart bullets), so the verisimilitude of the future society seems skewed, because we’re viewing all the tech – good, bad and outdated – through the lens of retrospect.

Luther’s girl is played by Slim Kirstie Alley, the police chief is G.W. Bailey (reprising his role as Lt. Harris from POLICE ACADEMY), and Stan Shaw is Marvin the token black cop.

All the cast takes it seriously enough, but Selleck (on down time between seasons of MAGNUM, where he plays a cop in that TV series) can’t seem to conjure enough gravitas to make us forget he’s a cop in that TV series. Simmons does a surprisingly sturdy job as the sinister villain, his inborn contempt for humanity fueling his character’s motivation to kill people with robot spiders. Reason? Uh, maybe they didn’t buy his last album?… If we doubt his ethos, we are reminded seriously by Slim Kirstie Alley: “Luther – he’s evil, I’m telling you!” Dialogue gold.

For once, there’s a sensually-tending-the-wound scene where the GUY is tending the GIRL instead of the other way round, and of course, the two leads become closer through this shared adversity. Just one trope among many in this cops and robbers chase movie transplanted to what Crichton envisions as “future times”: Ramsey’s a single dad (so can fall in love with his lady partner), has a fear of heights (that he conquers in the final act); he saves his female partner himself (even though there are more qualified personnel around), his son keeps pulling for him to marry his partner so he can have a mom again…

The funniest part is when Luther lies dead, eyes open, face expressionless, and Ramsey feels his neck for a pulse. Suddenly – that classic jump-scare where the villain comes back to life, as Gene-not-Luther hisses at Ramsey in that bat-demon expression – then falls back dead, expressionless again. Paul and Bruce and Mark and Eric must’ve laughed like loonies, as they watched the video and ate popcorn in the apartment that they all share like The Beatles.

RUNAWAY, for all its ambition, could not compete with the more authentic “future tech” in 2010: ODYSSEY TWO or THE TERMINATOR, both of which crushed it at the box office. We should have suspected something amiss when the opening sequence showed tiny tractor crop robots going offline and destroying corn stalks one at a time. It was almost exciting. The purely-eighties soundtrack (by Jerry Goldsmith – his first using only synths) painfully drops the movie smack in the mid-80s, never to break free and run away.

END

he problem is: I’m old. And so are you. And so is KISS. Pondering the 20th studio album of a band 38 years old is a daunting task when we’ve come so far together, across mountains of metal and deserts of disco; through the shadow of The Elder, borne on a cross of Crazy Nights; weighing it against the arc of history, measuring it against the panties of paradise…

The second full album with this latest lineup – Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, Tommy Thayer, Eric Singer – can these musical dinosaurs amble across the sands of time to deliver a bodyblow to the young and young at heart? Can there be any twinkly magic left to move us, as past lineups on youthful albums did, when WE were also youthful?

Like I said: it’s hard to judge. But judge we must. This 47th overall album from KISS (including Solos, Compilations, Live) is a loosed pack of wild dogs; a crisp, bombastic production of solid, thunderous rock and roll. Producer Paul Stanley (and co-producer Greg Collins) tracked the album on analog for a thicker bite, and they’ve chosen the song list judiciously, as there seem to be no throwaway tracks. The KISS LOONIES (the Paul-Gene-Ace-Peter brigade) will never admit it, but Monster is more consistent than Dynasty, Unmasked, Animalize or even Love Gun. Not many bands are purveying this style of old-school rock anymore and this album holds up mightily against KISS contemporaries Buckcherry, Aerosmith, The Darkness, AC/DC, et al.

It’s amusing seeing so many “critics” (the online variety) contorting, trying to explain why this album is great even whilst tearing it down because it’s not KISS 1977, and they’re not 9 years old anymore. Plus, we know that everyone is listening to this album on their computers with the fantastic lo-fidelity of the computer speakers providing exactly NONE of the sonic frequencies originally committed to the album. You judge this album’s sonic worth on your computer speakers (or other such crap), when in 1977, you listened to Love Gun on 15-inch woofers on your bedroom stereo, when you had no bills, no diseases, no enemies, no complicated personal relationships, no responsibilities? I mean, come on people!

Is great rock and roll ageless – or does age (of the rockers and the rockees) have everything to do with it? For example, it seems disingenuous for KISS to be singing about pussy and pawdying at their advanced ages – dirty grampas! – because we all know the reality of the band’s founders once being chick-hounds, but now being happily married sexagenarians with kids. So what is their demographic these days?

KISS is a hard rock band surprisingly at the top of their game with this release. And there’s a special hellish irony surrounding the criticism of the latest two KISS albums, Sonic Boom and Monster, as basic bland bullheaded cock rock: people are looking back at their Classic Six albums with a nostalgia as if KISS were master songwriters and composers back then. Not remembering that the critics’ complaint for each and every one of those Classic Six albums was that KISS was basic bland bullheaded cock rock. Ah, the good ole days, when everything seemed much better, but was exactly the frickin same!

KISS 2012: To be heard on a REAL STEREO SYSTEM, not on a computer!

Hell Or Hallelujah. The opener, the first single, and the worst song on the album. Stock Stanley actioner with little or nothing to separate it from any car chase backing music in an 80’s detective series.

Though it seems I’ve joined the ranks of dutiful KISS detractors, it’s just that boring opener that deserves such vitriol. The album then flows nicely, with Simmons taking over songwriting/vocal duties on Wall Of Sound, in a heavy duty Black Dog-gish riff.

Freak. Before Sonic Boom, big choruses were simply big choruses; now we wonder whether they aren’t disguises for the crumbling temple that is Paul Stanley’s voice. So the most glorious thing we hear on this song is Paul Stanley once again sounding powerful as a Starchild. After the scare he gave us with Sonic Boom, he has returned with his diaphragm strengthened, his lungs loaded with oxygen and his throat fully open for battle. Guitarist Thayer co-writes this epic thumper with the big hair chorus, and a nice eerie talking break that sounds like Alice, but is a perfect harmonic between Gene and Paul.

Back To The Stone Age. A classic Simmons “dirty riff,” like Deuce (credited to all four members), opening with a satanic Demon banshee scream worthy of Gillan. Still, probably the only song that could be termed anything close to a throwaway. Is this about the Flintstones?

Monster is the second album in a row that features the same KISS lineup: Simmons (bass, vocals), Stanley (guitar, vocals),  Tommy Thayer (lead guitars, vocals) and Eric Singer (drums, vocals). There are no outside musicians (except Brian Whelan, piano on Freak), and no outside songwriters. Like the Classic Six, it sounds cohesive, with both Simmons’ and Stanley’s compositions being equally effective/catchy.

KISS 2012: Stage show of monster proportions. This stage featured the giant “spider” from which the 3 frontmen would descend at the intro.
VIDEO BELOW: Onstage with KISS, Monster Tour – Showing the infrastructure/behind the scenes of the amazing logistics that go into just this entrance. One wonders how it ever developed to this incredible state of affairs!

Shout Mercy. Stanley’s high clear vocals give us a feeling of relief that it’s not yet time for our heroes to die. Classic double-snare beat and catchy chorus. Interesting that the band has tuned to A440, standard E tuning, at least on this song. (Their career songs are tuned down a semitone.) Which means Stanley is singing an actual high D cleanly at one point. Oh thank Satan on his big-assed steed that our vocal hero is back!

Long Way Down. Maybe I was a bit hard on them earlier, but all the songs are not exclusively about those things between a chick’s legs. This epic is a caveat against standing too tall, because – it’s a long way down, “…this life makes fools of wise men, thieves and kings…”

Eat Your Heart Out opens with a gospel a cappella falsetto, before diving into the rock. The backing vocals on this whole album are produced superbly – we can actually hear the individual voices of whoever is singing, unlike those bombastic choruses popularized in the 80s (on all glam/hard rock/metal albums, not just KISS), where it was just an army of thugs quadruple-tracking outside the gates of Babylon. We can clearly hear Eric Singer’s voice in this a cappella intro, and we can pick Stanley’s and Simmons’ voices from their backing vocals, just like the old days from the Classic Six, when the music was thin and the hair was thick…

The Devil Is Me. Simmons voices this song, penned by himself, Stanley and Thayer, and at first blush, it seems like another God Of Thunder, but Stanley subtly writes an introspective, Freudian slip, “Take a look at yourself and tell me what you see / The Devil is me!” Guitar solo is …uh, demonic.

Outta This World. The two best songs on the album are back to back – and sung by Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer! Hah! Take that, Ace-and-Peter LOONIES! Yes, the Ace LOONIES will complain that only Ace is “allowed” to sing about topics like this – “I’ll take you outta this world (to the other side) / On a midnight rocket (’til the morning light)…” but (as I stated in Sonic Boom) it’s not about Ace, it’s about the Spaceman character.

And in what must be the most serendipitous coincidence in all of rock and roll, Tommy and Eric actually have the timbre of their predecessors (bland voice and seasoned grit respectively)! They sound like trained versions of Ace and Peter. (The LOONIES will retort: Yeah, like the robot puppets they are! Oh, go fuck yourselves!)

All For The Love Of Rock & Roll. Stanley writes the best straight ahead old timey rock and roll song on the album. And Singer sings in that raspy r&b tilt. Oh man, this Rod Stewart-meets-The Stones bluesy rocker takes me back to being a teenager in the ’70s all over again, cruisin’ with the top down in my souped-up Camaro, picking up chicks on Sunset Boulevard– no wait, that wasn’t me, that was David Lee Roth.

Two years later, on AC/DC’s Rock Or Bust album, that hard-rocking bunch would also write a bluesy departure from their usual headbanging fare, Rock The Blues Away. It has no connection to KISS, just a grim reminder that we all still bow to the I-IV-V monster.

It’s ironic how the Ace-and-Peter LOONIES regard Tommy and Eric as the lowest of musical scabs – when in reality, the fact they have jobs in KISS puts them at the top of the industry pile; touring denizens in a world-girdling act, respected players on a worldwide scale. No one can grasp exactly how surreal and heady their positions are – which they continually repeat at conventions and Q&A’s.

Take Me Down Below is a throwback classic fun song, Simmons and Stanley sharing a verse each, with Stanley pulling some titanic screeches in the outro.

A basic Stanley shouter Last Chance, closes the album, starting with a heavy picked bass guitar, then with heavy bass throughout.

Thayer’s playing must not go unmentioned, consistently delivering remarkably memorable lead solos, filled with a passion the Ace-LOONIES will never give him the credit for ever having. He ends up with 9 co-writing credits on the album, 10 if you count the iTunes bonus track, Right Here Right Now.

stanley’s vocal timeline

Starchild, Flying V, vocal omega?

After the alarming slippage we heard on the last album, Sonic Boom, the voice that launched a thousand panties seems to be back on track on Monster – Paul Stanley’s vocals ring clear and stratospheric throughout this album. Either that, or they are using undetectable studio techniques to hide its deficiencies.

Unfortunately, after the album comes the tour, and there have been innumerable live videos surfacing of Stanley scraping his vocal cords into the gutter to get through songs that used to be effortless. Probably a gigantic part of this IS due to old age, but the old age is coupled with an operation in October 2011. From what I could research, this seems to be the timeline of Paul’s vocal issue:

2009: Sonic Boom album – we heard the imminent problems in the recordings, especially in the half-smothered screams in Modern Day Delilah, where he sounded totally NOT like Paul Stanley.
2011: Stanley undergoes an operation for polyps on his vocal cords. (We think: Ah, so THAT’S what made him sound like that!)
2012: Monster album – a definitive improvement back to the Paul of old. Being a studio production, he could go in when he was rested and/or feeling powerful, and crunch out the tunes on his best days.
2014: Touring. In videos from 2012 to 2014, we hear the horrible breakdown of Paul’s voice, because – I’m only presuming as a civilian, not a doctor – Paul does not have the luxury of rest between tour dates, and he’s punishing an instrument which was not fully healed or can never BE fully healed. Once someone takes a knife to any part of your body, can you EVER claim 100% again? And his age is not helping…

The final irony: Paul Stanley has always been a remarkable singer who has never gotten the recognition because he was surrounded by the circus that is KISS; now, his failing vocals are thankfully being hidden behind that same circus.

monster – the book

Either a tiny Paul and Gene or a massive cow of cash!

And we thought Kisstory was expensive. Heralded as the “Kiss Bible,” released in March 1995, Kisstory was a comprehensive, giant coffee table book covering the history of KISS from their beginnings to the mid-1990s; reprinted in 1996 to cover the Reunion Tour. 440 pages, hardcover weighing over 8 pounds, and originally $150 (now, anywhere up to $500, depending on signed copies, mint condition, etc.).

Now comes Monster.  A literal monster of a book, released in conjunction with the album of the same name. Published July 2012, and limited to 1000 copies, each copy is signed by the four current band members, Simmons, Stanley, Thayer and Singer, and with the choice of ten countries’ flags on the cover, depending on where it is sold. Measuring 3 feet x 2.5 feet and weighing nearly 50 pounds, it is a pictorial history of KISS.

Cost… wait for it… US$4,250! As Gene Simmons says, “It’s not for everyone.” That’s exactly what the Ace-and-Peter LOONIES say about the album…

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irst of all, too many songs. Like the emperor summing up Mozart in AMADEUS: “Too many notes.” Well, Hot In The Shade does not have “too many notes” – that would be Animalize – but it seems like producers Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons crammed every sticky-sweet, trashy-funk, dirty-glam, sweaty-shoed cockrocker they could find into this 15th studio KISS album (23rd overall). Hmm, 15th album – 15 songs… Was that the concept?

Lacking cohesion or direction, Hot In The Shade is a Hot MESS In The Shade. The band that had found direction (on Crazy Nights – even if that direction was simpering and obsequious) was flailing again. They had definitely made a choice to throw out the stringpads (the only songs featuring keyboards, Hide Your Heart and Forever), so the harder rock direction was welcome, and the sonic quality of the album was raunchy, as was Eric Carr‘s urgent drumming, and Bruce Kulick rattling off consistently stunning solos that seemed effortless; it is simply just a lack of good songs. Where did all these duds come from?

I can see the reason many fans complain this album is made up of demos. However, being demos is not the issue (sometimes the demonstration version of a song IS its best version); civilians were mistaking the lack of quality songwriting for lack of production. Grasping an aspect of the music industry they thought they understood, they complained Shade was “made up of demos.” What they’re saying is that some of the songs sound half-baked and scattershot. (Then again, when listening to that lack-of-fills drum track on Love’s A Slap In The Face, we wonder if it’s because Gene wanted Eric to emulate AC/DC’s Phil Rudd, or because he just couldn’t program that drum machine…) When listened to in a complete block, the songs don’t do the album as a whole justice, but if listened to individually, each song has its own cool space; they just don’t fit together as a unit. There’s also something to be said for the album title spelling HITS as an acronym, but that’s probably just coincidence… for a band that meticulously crafts all its marketing gimmicks… yeah, just coincidence…)

Posterity has been cruel to this album, the only songs remaining on live lists being the two singles Forever and Hide Your Heart. Admittedly, those two songs shine out like musical beacons amongst this bland-rock desert. On KISS Kruises and at KISS Conventions, the band regularly perform deep cuts from their full catalog for the fans, but they can safely avoid this album’s deep end; no one is requesting Betrayed or Silver Spoon any time soon.

KISS Live 1989: The Sphinx named Leon.

Rise To It. A powerful riff-rock opener that belies the weakness of the album compleat. Paul Stanley – for the 178th time on record – once again sings about his erection.

The video to Rise To It took our breath away. Or more correctly, the INTRO to the video. Now keep in mind this is the era when the legendary KISS makeup was completely lost to the past, dead to the world, and in the intro sequence we see a title card: BACKSTAGE 1975, and then we see – Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons sitting at a dressing room mirror applying the Starchild and Demon! Two faceless guys in the background are Peter and Ace. Paying tribute to their past? A peek into the Reunion future? Ironically, while they apply it, they’re talking about removing it.

Then they perform the song – but out of makeup, with Kulick and Carr. A soft-focus “live” gig for a small audience, with no lightshow and MTV crash-cuts. And for the first time in a long time – KISS look cool! At last settling on faux-street clothes and cohesive hairstyles that bespoke their rock god status, simultaneously making them seem like accessible regular guys.

The video is bookended by Stanley and Simmons in full makeup and costume leaving the dressing room to the roar of the mythic crowd. (And the chagrin of fanboys – though the title card said 1975, Paul’s costume is from 1977 and Gene’s is from 1980!)

On Betrayed and Prisoner Of Love, Gene uses vocal techniques he first revealed on Unmasked – that high clean hard palate voice that enables him to sound like any old eighties hair-vocalist; he gains range but loses individuality with that voice. The rest of the album is in his usual growl. Now this could be construed as variety or diversity – after all, we don’t want to hear 6 Simmons songs that sound all the same – but it comes off as lackluster lack of direction. His third song on Side 1 sits better with us – Love’s A Slap In The Face – because it’s Gene doing Gene, rather than Jani Lane.

Read My Body. What is that little temple-block in the intro? Like KISS meets Tainted Love. A guilty pleasure that Paul funks out, with its share of piggish bits (those rap-style shouts at the end of every line of verse) and catchy choruses that imply – unsurprisingly – having sex with Paul.

Hide Your Heart. One of the most “cosmopolitan” KISS songs, as it involves three gang teenagers in a love triangle, a topic far removed from KISS’s usual fare – Paul’s and Gene’s crotches. Originally written for Crazy Nights (by Stanley, Desmond Child and Holly Knight) and rejected, the song was then shopped around, and four other artists bought it and recorded it (Bonnie Tyler, Molly Hatchet, Robin Beck, and – the ex-spaceman himself, Ace Frehley, for his 1989 album Trouble Walkin’!)

KISS’s video for Hide Your Heart was another first, as it featured a completely secondary story to the shots of the band performing the song. That other story, shot in black and white, featured three Latin teens getting tangled; contrasted with the full-color band playing atop the Hotel Royale in Los Angeles. Censors in the States edited out every gang shot where a gun could be seen, so the story must have seemed piecemeal to American viewers, but everywhere else in the world we clearly saw the shootout atop that roof. America – gun-death capital of the world – with censors too gutless to show guns in a music video… Ironic, no?

KISS in the studio with Dean Martin producing.

Forever. Stanley co-writes with Michael Bolton. Yep, even that guy with the soppy ballads has a one-degree connection to KISS: Bruce Kulick was in Bolton’s 1979 band, Blackjack. Reaching #8 on Billboard charts, Forever would be the band’s highest charting single since Beth. Miles above its surrounding material, we can hear the craft that has gone into this lachrymose wailer, with surprisingly heavy drumming that somehow works.

Kulick would track an admittedly super electric solo, only to be told by producer Stanley that he needed to rethink it as an acoustic solo! He relates he was pissed, but – professional craftsman that he is – laid down an evocative acoustic gem.

The sepia-tone video showcases the band looking casual, big bouffant hairdos, at last at ease with their non-makeup personas, not trying too hard to be colorful or look-at-me; Gene sits on a stool, while Paul’s voice careens; Eric’s hair shaggies and Bruce fretboards nirvana; camera moving amongst the band in a room lit like a cathedral.

Gene’s driving Cadillac Dreams features a well-arranged horn section.

Vini Poncia (the producer responsible for Dynasty and Unmasked) co-writes with both Stanley and Simmons, but turns out better material with Simmons; his output with Stanley ends up resembling those vapid disco ducks (King Of Hearts, Silver Spoon).

The Street Giveth And The Street Taketh Away. Gene co-writes this song and Betrayed with the KISS go-fer at that stage, a young guitarist named Tommy Thayer. Each verse starts with a “Hey, man!” very very very reminiscent of Bowie’s Suffragette City. To add to the Bowie evocation, one lyric mentions “rock and roll suicide” (the name of the song that closed the album with Suffragette on it, Ziggy Stardust). (Okay, for the purists: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. Happy?)

You Love Me To Hate You. Interesting harmonies keep this Paul contradictor from suffering at the hands of this album.

Somewhere Between Heaven And Hell. One of the albums catchier songs, composited from War Machine and that song we just heard, Love’s A Slap In The Face.

Little Caesar. Eric Carr’s one and only lead vocal contribution to KISS is probably the best song on the album! Written by Carr and tightened by Simmons and Adam Mitchell, it’s a punchy funky walking riff about being a man in a cruel world, Carr’s scratchy vocals lending it all the street it needs: “Well they tried to tell you that the world is rough / But they never rocked it hard enough!” Based partly on Gene’s love of old movies (Edward G. Robinson’s 1931 film of the same name) and Gene’s nickname for Little Eric, it should have closed the album on its E power chords. Instead, a Gene throwaway throws away the impact…

Little Eric Caesar: rocking the world hard enough…

Boomerang. Nice guitar sound, with Kulick sounding like a more sensible Mark St. John. A tuneless Simmons double-kick extravaganza that goes nowhere. But it goes there really really fast.

The album cover was a little lackluster – the Sphinx wearing shades – but it was a tie-in with the Hot In The Shade Tour, which featured an awe-inspiring giant Sphinx head in place of the KISS sign, nicknamed Leon (of course). Complete with his complement of lighting in his head-dress and explosive eyes.

The material might have been at a low ebb, but KISS were on their way back visually, with Gene already tilting toward that scruffy leather street-cred he would adopt during Revenge. Little did we know it, but they were on their way back musically as well. Sadly, this would be Eric Carr’s last full album with the band, as cancer would come calling before the next album’s tracking sessions. How amazing then, that at such an emotional nadir, that next album would be one of the finest of KISS’s career.

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