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Dudes n the Hood

Today I feel like chatting a little about multi-layered rooted choruses, and with Childhood's End from Kiss' much maligned album Carnival of Souls (1997) I think I've found a perfectly suitable candidate for my modest little intention.

And what do I mean by multi-layered? Possibly God Gave Rock and Roll to You II (1991), which, just as Childhood's End, follows the path of David Bowie's All the Young Dudes (1972), and thankfully doesn't get in the way of its Kiss companion, but only occasionally shares the same footsteps, as it appears (1).

Bowie virtually shines through both Kiss interpretations more or less unhindered, with Childhood's End channeling the vocal refrain in particular, and God Gave Rock n' Roll to You II placing more emphasis on the instrumental rhythm section.

And even if God Gave Rock n' Roll to You II is a remodeled cover version of an Argent song, this applies to it in even double respect, because the composer of the original, Russ Ballard, must clearly have been aware of the existence of All the Young Dudes, because its noble and gracefully descending rhythm part is also clearly present there, only slightly deviating from Bowie's pattern and adding a different kind of hook at the end. Kiss' God Gave Rock n' Roll to You II, on the other hand, makes more use of the catchier and more potent Bowie origin and refines it to smooth perfection.

If you keep Childhood's End's refrain in mind, you must immediately recognize that Gene, Bruce & Company have added a whole lot more melodic density to David Bowie's aural endless harmony wave, which seems to have sprung from a perfect unperfect moment in the primeval age of all music, making the whole thing neither better nor worse in any respect, but simply adding another dimension (2), only to send its own enhanced energy signature for all further generations into eternity.

Childhood's End is a swan song and a revival in equal measure, which allows melancholy and euphoria to become one. According to my personal philosophy, there are these two types of gloom: The one that spreads the darkness, and the other that forms the spark in it and gradually illuminates everything around it.

This is peak Kiss. One of their finest moments in one of their darkest hours.

Side Notes:

(1) I had been aware for some time that the two Kiss versions of this basic melody had a connection, only that this connection came from David Bowie for a little less long. My first assumption in the context of a song by Hotter Than Hell (1974) can be read right here by the way.

(2) Black Sabbath's Black Sabbath (1970) was ultimately also forced to undergo the same excellent process for a Paul song on Carnival of Souls.

And God has not only given you rock n' roll, but also these great highlighted links. They start in the choruses, of course:

All the Young Dudes (1972)

Childhood's End (1997)

God Gave Rock n' Roll to You II (1991)

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Led Zeppelin’s Misty Mountain Hop and the Kiss Identity Pt. 3

Afterthought, or afterbirth, that is the question, if there's any difference at all. And after all, this is already the second Psycho Circus (1998) track with the same reference, and both with Ace on vocals. Whoa!

But this little guitar riff that we're talking about today, which runs parallel to Into the Void's chorus, is said to have been placed there by Paul himself, and most certainly well-considered, because it's nothing less than our old friend, our favorite Kiss riff from Led Zeppelin's Misty Mountain Hop (1971), which was permitted to make its debut in the Kiss repertoire on Kiss' debut album in 1974 (1) And without that, well, something just seems to be missing from Kiss every now and then.

And today, for a change, it doesn't take the dominant part, but simply comes to terms with its position as a higher-swinging derivative of itself, somewhere between sedate and penetrating, playing second fiddle nicely in the background and yet standing out like a moderate teasing migraine attack.

Admittedly, the whole thing also fits quite well with Ace, and somehow keeps sounding like Kiss, right?

Side Note:

(1) I mean, after all, it's a very obvious riff that's been common for a long time, like Smoke on the Water (1972), only the other way around, in fact, exactly that, and was also re-used for Uh! All Night (1985), or Unholy (1992), or even In Your Face (1998).

If you want to feel like being pulled, pulled into a black hole, then please klick the highlighted link. Misty Mountain Hop starts right at the beginning:

Into the Void (1998)

Misty Mountain Hop (1971)

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I War You

Metal and Roll Over wouldn't have been a bad title for this one today. But because there is already an entry with such a name with a completely different content, we will just leave it at a mere mention.

And here we have it again, I Want You (1976) and a Gene song, by no means an isolated case.

If last time, for example, it was all about I Want You's guitar solo and the observation that it bore a not entirely uncertain resemblance to a track from Gene's solo album Asshole (2004) (1), today we come rather unexpectedly to I Want You's second half, and would like to briefly compare it with a song from Creatures of the Night (1982), namely War Machine.

And while we are doing this, we might as well ask ourselves what good a song is without the right dramaturgy, and why take the unnecessary risk of inventing a new one when the good and, above all, the working one is not so far away?

In other words, War Machine's solo, including some parts of the rhythm section, more or less parallels I Want You's irrepressibly rebellious middle part up to the exact point where it returns to much more measured vibrations with the repetition of its acoustic intro. War Machine naturally builds up the theatrics quite a bit more in all the directions available to it, but basically there can not be any major doubt as to exactly which way the wind is blowing.

Whether this was Gene's brainchild remains questionable, since as far as I'm aware only the main riff and one extra verse are his, and the arrangement often a band/production affair. Perhaps in the end it was just the two external helpers Bryan Adams and his companion Jim Vallance, because as we know, they also had a hand in it.

Well, you better watch out, because with Kiss you never know.

Side Note:

(1) Speaking of Asshole.

The links both start somewhere in the solos. I recommend listening to both until the end:

I Want You (1976)

War Machine (1982)

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Paul's Balls-in-the-Zipper Voice (Special)

Donington, Monsters of Rock 1988

Kiss' or rather Paul's performance of Strutter at the Monsters of Rock Festival in Donington in 1988 is regularly spit out in popular polls on fan forums, especially when it comes to determining one's vocal best performance as precisely as possible based on a certain representation of a certain era of the band.

And that's pretty hard stuff, as I would like to point out, because I personally always find such a result a little thought-provoking, as my Paul's Balls-in-the-Zipper column owes its name to precisely this appearance.

I can't remember exactly when I first consciously saw and heard this one version of Strutter in today's context, maybe five or six years ago on Youtube, who can say for sure in this age of the internet. I can only remember being pretty sure that I clicked on a video with the title "Kiss Strutter Live Donington 1988" or something similarly unambiguous (1).

I can also remember just as clearly how the further the video progressed, the more unsure I became as to whether it was actually Kiss I was watching, and not in fact a mis-tagged band like Poison or some other shrill-squealing contemporary hair metal band. You have to understand, the picture quality really wasn't the best (2), but my ears still worked without the slightest problem.

Needless to say these doubts only grew in me after I made sure that I hadn't accidentally switched the video to increased speed replay beforehand.

And only then did I take a closer look at the figures jumping around on the stage. Blurry figures with curly long black hair: Check! A drum kit with a good half meter of swirling curls and a round traffic sign with a Japanese symbol on the bass drum: Check! Gene in all black leather gear trying to hump his staccato McBrown bass in routine leg-spreading rock-it poses: Check! Bruce Kulick confidently and casually immersed in his guitar playing and strolling across the stage with playful ease: Check!

But there was this other figure, dressed in white sporty clothes, armed with one of those not really shapely headless Steinberg guitars of that late 80s period that Paul had been photographed with on one occasion or another (3). And I admit, it could well have been Paul, but, it sounded nothing like him.

Maybe it was just the sound engineers having a nasty little joke that everyone but me had missed, but could that really be the case? And so it actually went on for the entire video, until it gradually but inevitably dawned on me: Yep, that's actually Paul, and not Vince Neil after some hardcore vocal training, or a similar figure in a black wig.

Well, and now you know the whole story.

And should this not be the truth in all truthfulness, and I shout this to the heavens with a raised fist, may I jam my balls in my zipper every day for the rest of my life when I get dressed, or undressed!

As my name is Roland Rockover!

Side Note:

(1) The complete concert of their Monsters of Rock performance in Schweinfurth '88, however, was shown on German cable television a few days before Christmas. My mother spontaneously and secretly recorded it on video and surprised me with it, unsuspectingly, the day before Christmas Eve. God bless her immortal soul.

(2) I think I even managed to find this YouTube video again. It's a good five years old, so that should work.

(3) I think Paul had mentioned at some point that he had played these things for hip health reasons, as they were considerably lighter than the classic models he was used to.

Strutter (Live at Donington, 1988)

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Bruce's Solos Vol. 3 - You Love Me to Hate You

I think some time ago I made the assumption that Bruce wouldn't be able to express pain in his guitar solos, like, for example, Vinnie Vincent did (or better: tried) in certain Kiss songs. Or something like that.

I would love to correct this somewhat premature statement with the help of a song by Hot in the Shade (1989) and a small visual image that is currently running through my head.

Indeed it's his solo which forms for me undeniably the highlight of You Love Me to Hate You, and somehow reminds me of an old spy movie, or a convoluted, well-told crime thriller, in which the apparent antagonist treacherously strangles his supposed victim from behind with a fishing line, or whatever professional tool is used to do such nasty thing.

Whereby within this heinous act an interplay, and possibly even a passionate connection between perpetrator and victim gets revealed as a major twist, which only emphasizes the progressing tragedy of the event all the more to the viewer with a depth that can only be guessed at. Somewhere between death struggle and an act of love, or rather, somewhere between pleasure and pain, to use another HITS phrase.

This has to be the strangest compliment I have ever given.

You Love Me to Hate You (1989)

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Blitzdream

I had actually devised a sweet hit and run strategy for Cadillac Dreams, just because it seemed most convenient to me to say as few words as possible about this song I never cared about too much from Hot in the Shade (1989), the Kiss album that I never really counted among my very favorites.

Actually.

But actually actually, my least favorite songs have always turned out to be the best templates for the more interesting spontaneous trains of thought, and here we are once again.

Despite the stylistic diversity on Hot in the Shade, but also the mediocrity spread over long stretches, Cadillac Dreams always formed a foreign body in my eyes, not only on this album, but within the entire Kiss katalog. In much the same way that Rock This Town (1980) by the Stray Cats would be totally out of place on a Kiss klassik like Love Gun (1977), or any other Kiss album. It's that Rockabilly thing that turns it off, right from the first note.

And I don't even necessarily think it's a bad song, just some kind of anomaly, even more than a song like Odyssey (1981) could ever be regarded to be, because Kiss have certainly been no strangers to pompous musicals since Destroyer (1976) (1).

Yet, just imagine if the original line-up had never split up in the early 80s, but had still taken off the make-up, and probably due to the fact that Peter Criss was still in the band as the drummer, would never have switched to contemporary Metal, but would in all probability have simply continued to move around in other areas of rock like a couple of gypsies, one of which, rockabilly rock, could have turned out to be quite conceivable. If an entire album, or an album with several songs in this subgenre, had been created from this idea, then, under this circumstance, and only under this circumstance, yes, then Cadillac Dreams would have been an even a more than acceptable Kiss song.

So much for that.

And well, what more could someone like me do with this song, except perhaps briefly point out a small mannerism that it shares with the quantum leaps better known and almost bursting with energy piece of glam rock by The Sweet that goes by the name of Ballroom Blitz (1973).

So, if you were to simply run both of those choruses through your head, what would be the first thing you might notice? Exactly, that small but crucial repetition at the end of the last lines. While this is the tremendously memorable refrain standard for The Sweet, it only occurs once for Kiss. But hey, once is better than never, and after all, I take all that I can get.

Rhythmically, however, Cadillac Dreams doesn't quite move in the same realms as the light-footed urge of Ballroom Blitz (of which one could assume the drummer was on an exclusive coffee diet), but still keeps you on your toes enough to not lose touch and at least stay close to it; somewhere very close to the battle cry and intro of Do You Remember Rock and Roll Radio (1980) (2) by everyone's good old friends the Ramones.

Even if these are all aspects that should not be considered irrevocably repulsive, I would nonetheless like to leave my usual snippy final phrase more or less to Bruce Kulick.

Didn't even he categorically reject his guitar services at the time and suggest that Gene should take them into his own hands?

Side Note:

(1) And we will also be getting to the bottom of this issue in the near future.

(2) Yes, Kiss covered that one later, even much later, for a Ramones tribute sampler. Kover it Up will cover it, just a little later.

Of course, one could also argue that Cadillac Dream's horn section could suggest the production of a Phil Spector.

The links are highlighted and not highlighted. Just klick on them and get happy:

Cadillac Dreams (1989)

Ballroom Blitz (1973)

Do You Remember Rock 'n' Roll Radio? (1980)

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The Cold Below

Today's subject is a pretty far-reaching one, and that in pretty much every respect.

The chorus of Monster's (2012) burlesque Paul & Gene duet Take Me Down Below had somehow managed to disguise its reference as a somewhat late Kiss 80s song from my pointy ears in my own subconscious since its release. That's something I'd like to salute.

I do have my Kiss Sensor, which is a kind of app installed inside me that lights up green or red light bulbs depending on how close or far away I am from the right answer, and it basically works quite well, but unfortunately with a bit of a delay every now and then. If you know what I mean.

I'm also not afraid to mention how I found myself poking around in this very area, such as Hot in the Shade (1989) (1) at random and without any real success, because of course that would have been too easy. And it was all dark there too, by which I mean the light bulbs of course. A whole 15 light bulbs, none of which ever even flickered faintly.

So, the secondary question that could arise from such a setback would then be whether this rather vague 80s impression could have resulted from the fact that the track in question could also be a much older one, maybe even from the 70's; which might simply still have been played live regularly in the 80s. And there wouldn't be too many of those. Hmm!

Once you decide to move within this somewhat narrower scope, you can't help but notice this one little light bulb blinking eagerly at you from far away, directly from 1974. A tiny bit behind Hotter Than Hell, and exactly where the debut album is located. And what number is written underneath? A large and legible 4, Cold Gin. And what immediately catches your ear? The vocal refrain. Bull's-eye!

And Take Me Down Below? Sounds something like a third-generation rip-off of Cold Gin, or what would end up coming out after a ten-person session of Chinese Whispers, and reminds me a bit of Sonic Boom's (2009) Yes, I Know as it relates to a very specific Gene song from Rock and Roll Over (1976) (2). Structurally identical, just a little too different in just the right places to pass as unremarkable.

If you were to add Take Me Down Below's opening riff to the equation, you could, if you insisted, also deduce a relationship to those of Cold Gin, at least on a structural level, even if the content is more reminiscent of AC/DC (3).

But maybe I should just check out Hot in the Shade for a Cold Gin reference I haven't discovered yet, that would put the cherry on top.

And explain a lot.

Side Note:

(1) Because that album itself is one big grab bag and for that reason alone is always worth a rummage.

(2) It's lying somewhere in my drawer, ready and waiting to be dug out at some point.

(3) See above.

Take Me Down Below (2012)

Cold Gin (1974)

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Bad Cans

Eddie Van Halen supposedly wanted to join Kiss at some point because he was fed up with his own band, or something like that. At least according to Gene.

You know how every now and then this story pops up, and that's pretty much the basic tenor that has been served up in beautifully pre-chewed small bites by lazy online rock journalists for years, which had its origin in Gene's autobiography, if I'm not completely mistaken (1). However, personally I'm just fascinated by this totally cracked thought process of what would have happened if Eddie had actually become the lead guitarist for Kiss in the early 80s. It would be unthinkable without going completely crazy, wouldn't it?

I mean, would Paul have advised him to listen to more Eric Clapton for the Animalize (1984) recordings or made him play a Led Zeppelin guitar solo from 1969 (2) more or less faithfully?

Side Note:

(1) That was the book with the brownies anecdote, wasn't it? It's been a whole while since I read that one.

(2) Who is surprised that the second half of Good Times, Bad Times' solo has found its way onto another Animalize track? And yes, I will definitely tell you more about it, sooner or later.

The solos are highlighted:

Get All You Can Take (1984)

Good Times Bad Times (1969)

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The Way of Time

Today I could offer you some head radio, if you feel like it.

You know, that kind of feeling when a Kiss song happily buzzes around in your head, and one part of the song turns into a rather unexpected one, until you finally realize which spare parts box Paul the old rascal has helped himself this time, again.

So, what can I say, it is an absolute honor and a pleasure to announce that a very particular song from Crazy Nights (1987) has finally come my way, in the most literal sense of the word. It took me long enough, but in the end I caught and nailed this windy, stubborn little bugger.

And what could I possibly mean by that other than My Way, and for today's matter the vocal verses. Although it was actually Time Traveler (1986) (1) that first passed through my mind, and as you can probably imagine, I didn't get very far with it, as much as both verses are close to each other both in their pathos and melody. But of course, this is not the first time something like this has happened, which is why my astonishment is within limits.

Hm, what more is left to say, except:

Brace yourselves, you little remnant of Kiss songs that have managed to escape me so far, because I'm going to get you all!

Side Note:

(1) Time Traveler! a not to be underestimated intersection between Crazy Nights and Psycho Circus (1998). No wonder I like to think of Psycho Circus as the Crazy Nights of the neo-masked era.

You don't have to time travel to get directly to the verses. Why don't you just klick on the highlighted links:

My Way (1987)

Time Traveler (1986)

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Joyraiser

Psycho Circus (1998) is not always an easy thing to grasp for the average Joe Kiss fan, if I may say so.

Apart from the usual general fan over-dramatization, or notions that Paul must have been in full Bon Jovi mode for that album some people even report they recognize the melody of a beer advertisement from the 80s in Raise Your Glasses' chorus, and others, and by that I mean yours truly, the soundtrack to a dumpling TV commercial from the early 90s by a large and well-known instant food producer in Germany.

Above all, the latter two assumptions are most probably not at all absurd, as the chances that both contain one and the same piece of music are anything but bad.

And of course I would like to emphasize that this is not about the usual mundane three-note jingles, but a rather a cross-reference to a long-established method of the advertising industry, which has existed since radios and TV sets in our modern consumer culture have been trying to drown people's brains and souls with it to a greater extent every day. And as you might know this consists of little more than appropriating highly vibrating compositions of classical music from the most diverse eras and using them for their own profit-seeking purposes. The average consumer, who henceforth associates their product with those divine melodies, gets culturally re-imprinted in the process.

Just to say the least.

But to stop beating the bush, I am talking about Ludwig Van Beethoven's Ode to Joy (1824), from his 9th Symphony. Who doesn't know it, even if only from a TV advertisement ?

And to give in to the temptation to provide another Paul quote, even though I've been making quite an inflationary use of them lately, doesn't he like to say that Beethoven was the first rock and roller ever? You know, because of his 5th Symphony, which may indeed have given direction to the rock riff as we know it.

And since Paul and Gene made it their mission back then to use Destroyer (1976) more or less as a blueprint for Psycho Circus (1), that would only be logical, wouldn't it? I mean, after Gene and Bob Ezrin already helped themselves to Beethoven's Piano Sonata Pathetique No. 8 for Great Expectations with the subtlety of a compulsive nudist in a crowded public square (2).

And Paul, surely, doesn't go quite so obviously for Raise Your Glasses, but still obviously enough for the whole thing to be considered anything but subtle. So, despite all this, Paul still manages to find enough of his own to give the incorporation of borrowed elements and his own identity an ideal balance, which in this case suits his pop qualities perfectly. And that in a double pack with Holly Knight.

My gosh!

What do you want to call something like that? Cringy? Corny? Not at all, dear people, maybe just a bit megalomaniac, but Kiss, far above all other rock bands, have always been exactly the right address for that.

Klassik!

Side Notes:

(1) There are more reasons than I can list with one hand why this also applies to Music from The Elder (1981). You can read at least a few of them here, here and here.

(2) Which I will of course deal with in detail in the future.

The links are as surely highlighted as Raise our Glasses is not about spectacles. Ode to Joy begins at what is probably its most famous part, the grand finale:

Raise Your Glasses (1998)

Ode an die Freude (1824)

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Free the Knight

What does Mitch Weissman (1) have to do with Iron Maiden? I mean, one reads more and more about this guy here lately, doesn't one?

Not that he has written that many songs with Gene or Paul, but just for the simple reason that these few songs have a not inconsiderable crossover with certain others, kinda like a billard ball on a full table in play that sooner or later inevitably collides with one or the other ball. Moreover this should be at least the second or even the third entry for today's Thief in the Night (1987) alone, and I can't say for sure how many more of those might spontaneously turn up.

And that should pretty much hit the nail on the head, because once you look through the peephole of Thief in the Night's front door, you can't help but notice that the merry bunch of Iron Maiden are already waiting there with big and broad smiles on their faces, presumably guided by the noble sentiment of showing their appreciation for one of their early riffs getting the accolade of being promoted to a Kiss song. Not from King Gene himself, of course, but representatively from the noble squire of the day… Mitch Weissman (2).

Needless to say we're talking about nothing less than Running Free (3) from Iron Maiden's 1980 debut album. And yes, its similarity to the main and chorus riff of Thief in the Night is indeed, despite all the rhythmic and elaborated differences, almost phenomenally striking.

And I have to frankly admit that I didn't see this one coming because, with the exception of a handful of songs, I'm completely unfamiliar with Iron Maiden's catalog, which I'm sure could be due, perhaps even to a serious degree, to Bruce Dickinson's vocal performances.

But, after many and long years, I've also managed to find ways and means of dealing with Paul's cheese drama voice, even in a dignified manner, and, who knows, maybe I can pull off the same trick with Bruce Dickinson's British knightly pathos, always a little too dynamic for my taste, always ready for a duel with a dragon or similar supernatural critter, a sword always at hand that at least matches the sharpness of his quick tongue.

Then again, Dickinson didn't sing at all on Iron Maiden's first album, did he? There you have it again, I have no bloody idea about Maiden.

Side Note:

(1) You know, that Beatles musical guy who also sang background vocals on Gene's 78's solo album.

(2) I think with the Simmons/Weissman compostions it's a safe bet to say that the musical parts are largely Weissman's doing.

(3) Iron Maiden must certainly have played the song on their joint tour with Kiss in 1980, see Mötley Crüe's Life Wire.

Thief in the Night (1987)

Running Free (1980)

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Break-Shocker

Ace lovers and friends of Led Zeppelin listen up, because today we want to check out Shock Me (1977), and by that I don't actually mean the whole song, but just the guitar solo, or more precisely the extension of the solo using the example of Alive II (1977).

Even if you don't necessarily have to be a virtuoso on the guitar to be able to play it yourself, I rate my own playing skills as a little too limited to be able to emulate good old Ace, but while we're at it, and that's the really funny, even largely absurd thing about it:

If I practiced and with all my enthusiasm actually tried to play Shock Me's extended live solo, I would end up with something more like Led Zeppelin's Heartbreaker solo (1969) from their debut album. Of course, you could look at it the other way around with Heartbreaker. Instead of the shrinkage I would create, good old Ace, more or less, simply added a good few more notes.

Hopefully Jimmy Page will never read this.

Side Note:

(1) As well as probably most of his other solos from his time with Kiss.

Just click on the highlighted links and listen for yourself:

Heartbreaker (1969)

Shock Me (1977)

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Out for Right

Doesn't Paul like to tell the story how easy it was for him to write certain tracks on Dynasty (1979), by which I am of course alluding to I Was Made For Lovin' You and Sure Know Something.

To take him literally for once, in order to arrive at such a point of ease, in all probability I guess he must have relied on one of his earlier compositions whose creation may have cost him a little more energy as mentioned above - If you want to assign an allegorical level to the title of this work, by which I can only mean Ain't Quite Right from his '78 solo album (1).

So let's have a look at its little riff and consistent theme, and there we have what I like to call the precursor to I Was Made For Lovin' You's simple but equally characteristic riff.

A small, quiet motif, less a riff than a modestly swaying mood that, despite all the self-doubt it harbors, displays a reflective as introspective calm thoughtfulness and does not intend to budge from the position it has claimed for itself until a solution to the reason for this analytical brooding has been found.

Every now and then it moves and stretches, even rears up, only to fall back into itself again, strengthened by its own placidity, to continue as before, only to realize in the end that the inherent doubt, once used constructively, can grow into insight and thus lead to the solution of whatever dilemma.

Why all this? Presumably only to be able to stand up to itself and it's own standards, but I think it served this purpose in the end quite well for all its practicality.

And, with hindsight of course, not only that, because our little motif can of course also be completely different. All the more so when it's filled up with so much self-confidence that it easily mutates into a snappy little riff, putting a hot sole on the disco dance floor as a speedy sweeper, able to melt every woman's heart in the world at 128 BPM. And judging by the worldwide popularity of I Was Made For Lovin' You, there must have been quite a few women's hearts (As if there hadn't been some before).

To express a final suspicion, I think that in order to find exactly this drive, a little kickstart from Shout It Out Loud (1976) must have been necessary, by which of course I mean its irrepressible piano rhythm in the mid-section, which happily lives out its modest but all the better-humored existence in the background of Shout It Out Loud's over-guitar solo. Put this together and, well, and there you go.

I only wonder what has been easier to write, I Was Made for Lovin' You or this entry?

Side Note:

(1) After New York Groove, another not-to-be-underestimated side-effect from one of the solo albums on Kiss biggest hit on this planet.

All that remains is to hope that the links have been highlighted quite rightly:

Ain't Quite Right (1978)

I Was Made For Lovin' You (1979)

Shout It Out Loud (1976)

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Live Gun

Here we have another classic case of those neck-shattering breaks that Kiss often used to play within their over-the-top high-speed tunes in the 80s. And that's no wonder, because back then a well-groomed strain trauma was pretty much en vogue and one of the signs of time of the music culture Kiss were adapting to.

But in order to get through today's concern at least as quickly as Kiss did many a song in their live shows back then, we therefore come to our first candidate Under the Gun (1984), with special attention to the bridges to the chorus towards the grand finale, just before this turbo-charged bumblebee, completely dazed and exhausted from all the speed fiddling, crashes in a single turbulent, gyrating vortex still at more or less triple speed and hopefully comes to rest. Right there you will find not just one of these breaks I'm talking about, but three in a row. And all with great efficiency.

On the following I'm Alive (1985), which followed a year later, this exercise unfortunately degenerates into mere carelessly wasted filler material, which is not the first time this has happened within this composition, only in a different setting (1), and stands out more poorly than well between the verses. A pity, because the chorus is a real feel good banger.

But you can't have everything in life. Except maybe strong neck muscles.

Side Note:

(1) As was my reference to it, albeit with regard to a specific title from Creatures of the Night (1982).

Click on the highlighted links, but only if you have a good physiotherapist:

Under the Gun (1984)

I'm Alive (1985)

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A Way of Chrome

There are certain mannerisms that always seem evident in successive Kiss studio albums, sometimes more, and sometimes less prominent, but they are there.

The reutilization in the form of a varying or deepening further development of a certain song element, as for todays example a midpart section, would be a typical feature of this scheme, and could of course also be perfectly applied to Revenge (1992) and Carnival of Souls (1997) (1). But that's not really news, is it?

So let's move on to the complex-interlocked and equally smooth and heavy angry Heart of Chrome and simply place its midpart next to that of the agony driven but no less combative It Never Goes Away, and see if there is anything striking to observe.

And yes, there you go, you could indeed say so. Both bridges contain an elaboration (2) that can't be described as anything other than true to character, unless you're maybe deaf. Or most probably a notorious liar.

In any case, both sequences are subject to a weighty spiral entrapment paired with the energetic attempts to break out of it again. Once such an approach may succeed, as Heart of Chrome demonstrates in freeing itself from it with a feat of strength and finding its way back to its usual power, and then, as It Never Goes Away virtually celebrates, the construct, held upright only with difficulty, collapses again under its own weight in its glorious attempt to get back on its feet, presumably to remain in unstoppable decline for the rest of its eternally damned existence.

That, I guess, was news. Not very good news, but news nonetheless.

Side Note:

(1) Under certain circumstances, I could add Hot in the Shade (1989), but today I would like to dispense with such a not entirely unconditional constellation of three and make do with the first two. There are a few wonderful examples of elaborations of motifs between Hot in the Shade and Carnival of Souls that I will add in the not too distant future.

And Albums such as Love Gun (1977) up to Unmasked (1980) would also offer plenty of interfaces to delve into in depth when the opportunity arises. I know you're all just dying to rip it out of my hands and devour it. I have few illusions about that.

(2) One of a song by Hot in the Shade, by the way.

The links are as surely highlighted as Revenge and Carnival of Souls mark Kiss' zenith as musicians:

Heart of Chrome (1992)

It Never Goes Away (1997)

[rolandrockover]

Kover It Up Vol. 5 - New York Groove

Hello, Russ Ballard, Kiss. As soon as one even mentally pronounces this chain of associations, the bell should ring for every halfway educated Kissalomaniac that one is dealing with a definitive key figure for Kiss kover songs. Songs that were written by Russ Ballard, and that Kiss or their closer associates have reinterpreted and recorded, mind you.

All in all, this has resulted in a total of five tracks (1), respectively two of which Ace has tackled more or less on his own. And today, of course, we want to talk about the very first one, namely nothing other than New York Groove from Ace's first solo album from 1978 (2). And as is well known, it was Eddie Kramer who persuaded Ace to cover this song, which the latter will probably have learned to appreciate over time.

But let's get down to business.

Hello's version of this NY vision sounds a little as if Chris Norman, in his best Smokie days, had been forced by strict medical prescription to spare his vocal chords as much as possible and not to sing but only to whisper. Such an idiosyncratic decision lends the music a determinedly passive, but nonetheless equally commanding and energetic effect, which is only reinforced by the unusually light, but all the more confident harmonic flow of the background chorus, pushing itself rhythmically into the mix and taking the song to a higher level overall.

What Ace and Eddie cooked up together for their part doesn't sound that dissimilar at all. They certainly didn't reinvent the song (as one could later claim of 2000 Man), and which Eddie Kramer definitely didn't set out to do, but made it just a bit more straightforward and, above all, designed it all around Ace. And that's exactly the key, an emotionally intelligent focus on Ace, his voice, and his person, because that's what this is all about here: The humanization of a rock n' roll alien from the craziest rock band in the world to that point.

The guitars at the beginning are comfortably reminiscent of a quirky Swedish children's television series from the 70s (3) and create, at least in me, a warm-hearted and positively charged energy that, thanks to Ace's charm, doesn't intend to get lost again throughout the entire song. His imperfect voice sounds somewhat tight, thanks to doubling and whatever studio gimmick, and saturated enough, and at the same time left with enough room to be nothing but himself, which brings song and mood to life, and even works to his advantage lead vocally. Is there anyone else here besides me who is also reminded of Peter Criss and Beth? I mean in principle.

Be that as it may, to conclude with a brief mention of Ace's solo playing. Its production seems surprisingly thin and used just as sparingly, but staged in an all the more lively manner, which really puts the finishing touches to this simple but equally gorgeous piece of good-feeling music. And here it is, an urban anthem for the people to believe in, presented by a true New Yorker for all New Yorkers, and of course everyone else too.

More authentic than the original.

Side Note:

(1) New York Groove on Ace Frehley (1978), Some Kinda Hurricane and Let Me Rock You on Peter Criss' eponymous Let Me Rock You (1982), Into the Night from Frehley's Comet's debut (1987), and last but not least Kiss' real last smash God Gave Rock n' Roll to You II (1991).

(2) Incidentally, I have no idea whether the Ace and Peter songs from the 80s are actual cover versions or just purchased tracks without a previous release. I just threw it out there because it fits so well, and what do you do for a halfway successful introduction?

(3) Karlson on the Roof (1974) by Astrid Lindgren.

New York Groove (1975)

New York Groove (1978)

[rolandrockover]

Eye of the Burning Hunter

Eric Carr's Eyes of Love (1989) is one of those fan favorites that unfortunately didn't make it onto a Kiss album. The indignation about this should be all the greater because in this case we are talking about the completely overloaded and somewhat indecisive Hot in the Shade (1989) of all things.

What the exact reasons may have been within a hopefully objectively functioning exclusion procedure is something everyone is welcome to think about for themselves, but hopefully not without at least taking a closer look at the music first. And why should you do something like this alone when it works just as well together and in the best of company?

So, Eyes of Love sounds admittedly less like Kiss in itself, or rather its somewhat unwieldy overall picture doesn't quite, but the individual parts it contains all the more. For the intro and main riff, for example, I can think of two reference sources that can both easily be assigned to Animalize (1984), the album that probably best musically manifests Gene's estrangement from the band at the time.

If you were now to hybridize Burn Bitch Burn (1) and Lonely is the Hunter's riffs, we'd almost have it, the point is just that Eyes of Love does somehow sound better than the other two both together (2), with a little more vibrant swing, which, once it gets going, gives it something quite nasty and monstrous. Unusual when something like this doesn't come from Gene, but certainly not unwelcome on my part.

But if you want to give it a little extra thought, you could ask yourself whether Eyes of Love isn't rather based on Killers' (1982) Down On Your Knees and tries to make something better out of its riff, which itself wasn't really able to do. A certain additional proximity to Down On Your Knees' middle part (3) would certainly speak in favor of this. But let's just leave it at that.

Apart from that, I can think of a few isolated bits and pieces that are reused here and there, serving as pads or whatever. Something that sounds like a higher swinging Plaster Caster (1977) riff, a certain The Elder (1981) touch as we know it from Only You, or a fill segment of When Your Walls Come Down (1987) and one of those rock n' roll standard licks that usually ends Rock and Roll All Nite (1975) live (4).

And although all the segments seem polished, the transitions flow smoothly and interlock like clockwork, it's still the not-so-simple song structure that, from my perspective, perhaps refuses to fit into Kiss' much smoother arrangement ratio of the time, thus naturally standing out quite a bit; and thus in some people's eyes, one looks in the direction of the two HITS, uhm… producers, might seem unfinished, or even useless. For their purposes. And not just to my regret.

Anyway, perhaps Eyes of Love only got in the way of Gene's and Bruce's not entirely dissimilar but much, muuuch more polished Prisoner of Love, but I prefer to continue to harbor my very own doubts about this idea. Basically, I'm only surprised that Gene didn't take it on and that it didn't fall into his clutches.

Probably because of the too many song credits. You know, less dough to share.

Wink emoji?

Side Notes:

(1) I mean even Eric's verse vocal sounds like the Burn Bitch Burn riff, with a slight biker rock and a AC/DC Highway to Hell feel.

(2) And I say that even though I like those Gene songs, especially Burn Bitch Burn. And I guess so did Eric Carr, because I happen to know that he loved to play Burn Bitch Burn live with its pumping drums and bass.

(3) Who remembers this part of Down On Your Knees, which bears an unmistakable resemblance to a song from Destroyer (1976)? You can refresh your memory of it right here, by the way.

(4) And no, I'm not going to highlight any of the links. That's too much fiddly work for me today. I'll probably cobble together some detailed Reprise entries out of this some day, or something.

I've limited the links to Eyes of Love, Burn Bitch Burn, Lonely is the Hunter and Down On Your Knees for the love of simplicity. Trust me, nobody loves too many links:

Eyes of Love (1989)

Lonely is the Hunter (1984)

Burn Bitch Burn (1984)

Down On Your Knees (1982)