The real alternative

Kiss rock and roll all night at the FleetCenter

by Brett Milano

I admit it: I'm responsible. I'm the '70s teenager who made that deal with the Devil 20 years ago -- the deal that made the '70s go on forever, the one that froze pop culture dead in its tracks just so some of us could relive our wild youth at everybody else's expense.

Being a reasonable sort, he tried to talk me out of it. "Now, you're sure you want to keep music from going any farther than it has in 1976. Even if it means, say, that the two biggest concerts 20 years from now will be the Sex Pistols and Kiss?"

"Sure, why not?" I responded.

" . . . Even if it means there'll be a Frampton Comes Alive II?"

I grit my teeth and nodded yes.

" . . . Even if it means that the Who will be on their third comeback by then, and they'll be letting Billy Idol sing part of Quadrophenia?"

"Who's Billy Idol?" I responded. "Never mind, let's get on with it."

" . . . Even if it means that Styx will get back together that year?"

"Maybe we should think twice about this," I said. But I was talked back into it when he assured me I wouldn't have to see the Styx reunion myself. There are some things even the Devil won't make you do.

The Devil's been working overtime ever since. Getting his old pals Led Zeppelin to come back together. Making Steve Miller one of the biggest concert draws on the circuit. Getting the Eagles reunion to be taken seriously. Allowing Steely Dan to do an oldies tour for three years running, instead of making a new album the way they ought to. Arranging steady gigs for Lynyrd Skynyrd, even though they're all dead.

In recent months he's been holed up at Great Woods, where he programmed this year's schedule almost single-handedly -- hey, do you know anybody else who'd dream up a Frampton/Foreigner/REO Speedwagon triple bill? Or who'd trash poor old Crosby, Stills & Nash's Woodstock credentials for good by putting them on a package tour with Chicago?

But the Devil's about to call it a day, because he'll never top the feat of reuniting the original Kiss -- putting bassist Gene Simmons and singer/guitarist Paul Stanley back together with original guitarist Ace Frehley and drummer Peter Criss, the two guys who got kicked out of the band for rocking and rolling all night and partying every day. Much of the advance hype for this tour revolves less around the personnel or the music than around costumes -- for the first time in rock history, people are attending a concert specifically to see make-up. Maybe Tammy Bakker's career has a future after all.

This was my evening at last Tuesday night's FleetCenter Kiss concert . . .

7:22: I take the Red Line at Central Square; in my car are three guys doing Kiss songs -- not shouting lyrics at random as drunk guys are wont to do, but singing "Nothin' To Lose" and "Stole Your Love" in actual three-part harmony. "We've got to do this, man," one of them explains. "It's the first time we've had the original line-up together in 15 years." Did I luck out, or is this sort of thing happening on MBTA trains all over town?

7:32: Changing trains at Park Street, I run into the night's first familiar face: former Orangutang bassist Joe Klompus (now playing with Jack Drag), who reports that his bandmates are bummed because they couldn't get tickets. "I'm not going for the music," he notes. "I'm going for the make-up and the flames. Nobody wants to try something on that big a scale anymore." His attitude reminds me of how much I liked Orangutang.

7:46: For the first time in my concertgoing career, I'm busted for carrying contraband -- namely a plastic bottle of shampoo, which I have to turn over to security. "We'd let you take it inside if it were still sealed," they point out. Thus my plan to wash the entire left balcony's hair goes right down the tubes.

8:02: I was looking forward to D Generation, a New York band I'd heard were the second coming of the Stooges, the Ramones, or the New York Dolls. Unfortunately, when I arrive they're kicking into their power ballad, which smacks of mid-'80s arena rock (complete with guitar picks ceremoniously tossed into the crowd afterward) -- as does their follow-up number, the first stab at TV preachers I've heard in at least a week. Sorry, guys, but you didn't live up to your hype. If you really want to lead a Def Leppard revival, cut your drummer's arm off and come back in 10 years.

8:30: Well, they really are back; and they really do look just like the Kiss of old. I don't mean the band, who haven't hit the stage yet; I mean a good five percent of the audience. I haven't seen so many guys in make-up since I stopped going to Jacques.

8:45: Two swells of applause from the crowd -- the first when four Kiss klones in the crowd enact the front-cover tableau of Dressed To Kill, the second when some fans circle the arena with a banner reading "Kiss Alive IV-Ever." Kind of touching, really.

9:03: Irony alert: the between-sets tape is playing "Won't Get Fooled Again" and the lights start dimming just as Roger Daltrey sings "Meet the new boss -- same as the old boss."

9:07: "This is going to be the biggest show you've ever seen," notes the guy sitting behind me, and that's about what I was expecting. Funny thing happens, though. Once Kiss come on stage -- after the obligatory flashpots and the lighted sign you saw on the cover of Kiss Alive -- it's down to four guys playing music. After the big rock spectacles of the '80s and '90s -- Mötley Crüe's rotating drum kit, Pink Floyd's light pod, Spinal Tap's dancing elves -- a Kiss show is almost low-tech.

Opening with "Deuce," Kiss sound exactly like all the garage bands I've seen cover their songs in the past 10 years, and that's a compliment. Fact is, the original Kiss were pretty much a garage band all along. Frehley was never the kind of flashy lead guitarist who played those "weedly-weedly-wee" solos the way his successors, Bruce Kulick and Vinnie Vincent, did. And Peter Criss is strictly a 4/4 thumper of a drummer -- heck, he's got only one bass drum. After the original band fell apart, Kiss got tighter, more respectable, better in every respect but one: they also got more boring. There's a metaphor for the '80s and '90s in there somewhere.

Whatever Criss and Frehley got paid for this tour, it wasn't enough to get them to learn any new material. Every song played tonight dates from the original band's tenure, which means it cuts off around 1980 (in fact, most of it cuts off around the time the original band ran out of steam, which was a few years earlier). Which means the set includes nearly all the Kiss songs you'd want to hear. And yes, they do look exactly the way they did in their heyday. Three layers of greasepaint will do that for you.

9:17: Ace Frehley breaks into the first of many wide grins, probably remembering that only nine months ago he and Criss were stumbling through a weeknight set at Mama Kin. His luck's improved since then.

9:43: Introducing "Cold Gin," Paul Stanley does the obligatory rap against drinking and driving, closing it with " . . . because we love you and we want you all here when we come back." Kind of touching, really.

9:53: Gene Simmons starts spitting blood while playing a bass solo. First time I've ever seen anyone in a rock band get a standing ovation for playing a bass solo. Best bass solo I've ever seen, because he spits blood during it.

9:56: On the other hand, Peter Criss's drum solo is pretty lame. But he plays it during "God of Thunder," and that surely counts for something.

10:33: Paul Stanley strikes gold with the intro to "Love Gun": "This song is about my six-shooter of sex. My Uzi of ooze." From now on, anyone who asks why I like Kiss will get this quoted at them.

10:43: The regular set closes with "Black Diamond," and it's something you don't get to see much nowadays: a great version of a song the Replacements used to do.

10:55: The second encore begins with Criss performing the token piano ballad "Beth," solo to a backing tape. Having freshened up his paint, he throws flowers to the audience when he's done. Looks a little like Liza Minnelli.

10:57: You know that famous recording of Dr. Martin Luther King declaring, "Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last"? Imagine the sound of somebody convinced that what he's got to say is three times more important than that and you'll have the sound of Stanley declaring that he wants to rock and roll all night and party every day.

11:00: I've long since realized that this is the silliest thing I've seen in years. And that I'm having a great time. And that Kiss's reunion is perfectly timed. Leaving personal heroes like Guided by Voices and willfully goofy bands like the Presidents of the USA out of this, the most lasting result of Nirvana's influence may well be that every half-decent outfit now feels obliged to take itself way too seriously. What are Kiss peddling? Heavy metal with trash, camp, and a sense of humor. What's headlining Lollapalooza this year? Heavy metal without trash, camp, or a sense of humor. Looks like Kiss beat the alternatives, in more ways than one.