Kiss

March 2, 2000

KISS: Rock's Superheroes
By: Larry Queenn


Back in 1971 in a drafty practice space tucked away in a nondescript corner of New York City, two minds came together with an idea that would change the future of music.

At the time they were in a band called Wicked Lester, sloughing their way through the local bar scene. But the two bandmates wanted to take the concept of fusing high drama theatrics with Rock & Roll and blast into the stratosphere.

What if they were to don 7-inch platform boots, silver-studded leather outfits, replete with capes, and paint their faces kabuki-style? How would people react? Bassist Gene Simmons and rhythm guitarist Paul Stanley didn't much care what people thought, and enlisted drummer Peter Criss and lead guitarist Ace Frehley in their crusade. Little did they know that the foursome would go on to become one of the largest-grossing bands in history: KISS.

Many would say that you could thank or blame them - the choice is yours - for the wave of '80s Glam-Metal bands.

Gene Simmons doesn't agree. In fact, he doesn't think that they are responsible for initiating any sort of stylistic change in music.

"We started nothing," he says matter-of-factly. "Nonsense. Before us, Alice Cooper existed. Before us, David Bowie existed. All we knew was that we wanted to take what we like about different elements - Pete Townsend smashing his guitar, Hendrix burning his guitar - just the idea that the stage was a place for stars and not for guys that looked like pizza delivery boys."

The anti-Rock star mode of operation of the underground music scene, which surfaced with the onset of Grunge, is not Simmons' sense of what entertainment should be.

"I kept complaining throughout the entire Seattle movement that everybody looked like a pizza delivery boy," says Simmons. "I'll grant you that the music is valid, but then when I see these guys onstage I just want to go home. There's nothing to look at . . . . Whatever that thing is that makes a star a star, you don't have to breathe fire to do this, but you have to have something that separates you from the audience."

The fire-breathing, blood-spitting Simmons wields his axe-shaped bass onstage like, well, like The God of Thunder, along with the star-spangled androgynous lead singer Paul Stanley, spacey spaceman Ace Frehley and the tightly coiled feline Peter Criss. Together they have defined Arena Rock for an entire generation. The sold-out stadiums, the pyrotechnics, the larger-than-life visage, and, of course, the Rock & Roll excess have all helped mold the Cock-Rock archetype.

These days KISS is a corporation. In the old days, merchandising included everything from lifelike dolls, action figures, comics, television specials and pinball machines. Today, they are broadcasting animated "Webisodes" via the VH-1 Web site, and they have Visa cards. Simmons is unabashedly in favor of this sort of market saturation, regardless of credibility.

"We have never claimed to be musicians," claims Simmons. "We're entertainers. Musicians are sidemen. They're the faceless people that make records who you never want to look at. In terms of commercialization, from day one, we've always been about that. The ideal of credibility is the height of stupidity for me, because credibility is the antithesis of what Rock & Roll is all about, and I'll explain why. Rock & Roll was always supposed to have been about the rebel - the guy who wants to do whatever the hell he wants to do, because he wants to do it. Credibility infers that you cant' do certain things because 'What will people think?' Where's the Rock & Roll in that?

"We decided in the beginning that we would endorse whatever the hell we damn well please, and you have the right not to come to the shows," he continues. "We don't have a self-esteem problem about 'Please remember that we write great songs.' I don't care if you think about that or not. What I'm saying is, we're not tugging on anyone's sleeve saying 'Please take us seriously.' We don't give a damn because we're up on that stage, and if the only thing that you get off on is the bombs, that's fine. If you like the songs that we play, that's fine. If you get off on the fact that we dress weird and Gene sticks his tongue out, all of it's fine. There are no prerequisites to enjoying KISS. We don't want your respect. We want to be admired as heroes."

The band's other excesses caught up with them when Frehley and Criss became so wrapped up in drugs and alcohol, they both left the band in the early '80s. Various lineups followed but the original four finally reunited in 1996. Both Frehley and Criss had long since cleaned up their respective lifestyles, and the timing was perfect. Their tour sold out around the globe and was the top-grossing tour of that year. Now, with over 80 million albums sold and a catalog second only to The Beatles in number of gold records, then band has decided to call it a day.

"At the end of the day, we all agreed [to quit]," he says. "After we had received our star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, we were told by Billboard [magazine] that we are right behind The Beatles in the number of gold records sold by any group in history 00 The Beatles are at 29 or 30, and we're at about 27. We've outlive five presidents, sold over 80 million albums. There wasn't much left to do. We have KISS movies, KISS belt buckles, comic books. There's a four-hour miniseries about to come out (he wouldn't elaborate). There's going to be KISS Casinos, a KISS theme park with Universal Attractions. We just did a KISS Pepsi commercial. Just about anything that you can possibly imagine is going to happen. But the KISS touring band, like all touring bands, has to stop at some point. The truth is, it's best to quit while you're on top. You don't want to end up playing The House of Blues to a hundred people one day."

Perhaps Simmons sums up the KISS legacy best: "All of the great icons of life have a certain silliness built into them," he says. "Let's think about it for a second. You've got Superman. Here's a grown man that has clearly gone on to icon status that was a 35- to 38-year-old man walking around in tights - blue and yellow - with a red cape. Then you also have Santa Claus, who is a big fat guy with a beard dressed in a red outfit. If you don't believe in the magic, they're dressed silly. But if you believe in the magic, it's glorious."