Kiss and its total thanks: a mega costume party

Kiss and its total thanks: a mega costume party

We come to caress the baby we believe we still carry inside, but a twist of fate makes us realize that Kiss he puts on a somewhat corny show with a master of ceremonies who – unfortunately – understands everything he says, and is able to name the city of Buenos Aires more times than Cacho Castaña in his entire life.

Some quantum miracle did this in the eloquence of Paul Stanley concentrates all the demagoguery of rock.

But Kiss puts on a real show. We thought of putting: “how good is the Cat replacement” or “how good is the Extraterrestrial replacement”. Moreover, they are so effective that we should know their names, and yet there is a strange resistance, excuse me, which prevents us from advancing in information:

Kiss live at Polo Field. Photo: Martin Bonetto.

Old-school kissers, not all of them, are usually this resentful and sassy and they like to think they’re the originals and look alike for a reason. Paul and Gene Simmons surely want us to believe just that.

A rock journalist tells us: “The casting of these guys – I didn’t know their names either – was impeccable.” Admittedly, the Gato lookalike sings better than Gene Simmons and in addition we will see him worthy and surpassed on the piano when he proudly performs his own interpretation of Beth.

Much like Miranda!, Kiss gradually became Stanley and Simmons’ duo. Even so, these two assholes have established themselves as the best live band in the worldsuggesting, from the outset, that rock is a healthy subject that allows some enthusiastic buffoons to cross their seventh decade of planetary tour.

You don’t have to take things so seriously

Kiss live at Polo Field.  Photo: Martin Bonetto. Kiss live at Polo Field. Photo: Martin Bonetto.

Kiss is the perfect demonstration that things shouldn’t be taken seriously (No rock star, Kurt Cobain!).

That this music labeled “rebellious”, already veteran and originally Machirula, takes on a particular weight in museums and that in the long run, rock is ideal for crumpling like them, in a single piece on stage, trying out spastic choreography, filling stadiums, covering themselves with string and singing – for nearly 50 years! – a handful of songs that do not seek to be more than what they are.

Stanley and Simmons, “Evil Star” and “Vampire”. Eighty denomination. From the distance they offer us to the privileged of the VIP sector, we see them exactly as in 1975.

Kiss chose a repertoire of its own classical music for the farewell. Many thanks with Detroit rock city, Love Gun, Beth, but also I Was Made For Loving You, Rock and Roll All Nite, Cold Gin, Dr. Love, Love Gun, Black Diamond, and other songs that have not left our turntables.

It’s good that they’re leaving. We had to be there because we are grateful to people who are informed that a very dear rock band is saying goodbye to us, never to return. It would be disloyal on our part if, communicating such an event, we were found absent without notice.

Its insistent, uneventful references are beautiful, with dozens of sex anthems and songs that are not at all convoluted, made on the basis of expressions that rarely escape the logic of “I love rock”.

Kiss fans, a separate show.  Photo: Martin Bonetto. Kiss fans, a separate show. Photo: Martin Bonetto.

hardcore fans

The scene is a video game full of lights and explosions which gave us one shock after another as in a horror movie of good quality. And the audience rock, ahhh…, a charm that comes from the last century and should be declared a World Heritage Site. People who give you a blank check and who prefer to see the same show a thousand times.

A kisser family at the polo field watching Kiss.  Photo: Martin Bonetto. A kisser family at the polo field watching Kiss. Photo: Martin Bonetto.

But the tenderness of this Polo Field crowd (50,000 people) has no name: many “kissero” have painted more Simmons than Stanley, parents with children, more men than women, more ladies than teenage girls, all hoping to be part of a mega costume party.

Kiss live at Polo Field.  Photo: Martin Bonetto. Kiss live at Polo Field. Photo: Martin Bonetto.

Rock was music for kids when they were kids: now it’s just music where there are plenty of performers who will happily and naturally die of old age like Hilda Bernard.

We’re from the time when the formation of Kiss came from memory and we had to be careful that we liked a band interrogated, among other things, by the SS written in the Nazi printing press. From the days when the first guitar was mentioned in broken English: “Eis Fresley”.

It is assumed that until then the group was large. Prior to the departure of Peter Criss and Frehley himself, vinyl or cassette editions, imported or domestic, were expected, or songs were copied to a TDK. Later, in the mid-1990s, the group itself pays homage to the Great Group that it was by forming a unplugged on MTV with the original members, and once again becoming the most expensive live act on the planet.

Kiss ceases to exist

Kiss live at Polo Field.  Photo: Martin Bonetto. Kiss live at Polo Field. Photo: Martin Bonetto.

Officially, Kiss ceases to exist this Saturday evening with a somewhat low volume, which at times did not satisfy all those present. But in the distant 80s it had already ceased to be a rock band to become an entertainment industry, curiously suitable for all audiences.

They flirted with fading (unmasked1980), later they faded, began to lose their effervescence with the rhythm of fashion, they arrived in nightclubs with I was made to love you and they screwed up recording a concept album that ended up being the biggest flop of their career, elder music1981. No one ever imagined Kiss identifying with Pink Floyd.

Tolerable change of members up to Eric Carr. Aesthetic choices that bordered on disco music. Seeing Paul Stanley without makeup was like Osvaldo Laport. As well.

In the 80s -ask- there were only two popular bands in Argentina: Kiss and Queen. For some curious reason, they competed and you belonged to one or you belonged to the other. Times without partisan politics where the cleavage was decided between Almendra-Manal, Beatles-Stones or Piazzolla-Troilo. Kiss and Queen were also functional the short fuse of the dichotomy.

a traditional show

Tonight’s recital rings elementary and landscape. A show so traditional in its stuff, which sometimes makes us nervous. Kiss always has a good reason for something to explode as Simmons – and his uplifting bassline – amuses people by sticking out the phenomenal 17-inch braless tongue.

More flashes and flashes when he’s about to sing thunder god. This is the goodbye that will end up spoiling with the festival rock and roll all night.

This is how the two-hour show goes. Stanley moves his hips (subjected to surgery) and in a moment he’s flying over us from a zipline with his big shoes shining like glass spheres. You think with nostalgia: is this tour over and no more stars are painted on the right eye?

Separate paragraph for him: If anything isn’t discussed, it’s Stanley’s voice. Because of him – not because of Simmons – because of the voice of rock’s second most important Paul, Kiss had its local rivalry with none other than Freddie Mercury. We now understand him when we see him sing and speak with this particular stridency, between epic, neighborhood and despotic.

Kiss music is the same old story. With Van Gogh’s ear, that’s enough. Better to concentrate on seeing it, on the gaze of the mass pastime that must have inspired the creator of Cirque du Soleil. If there was a band that understood that rock is attitudinal, insightful and physical, that band was Kiss.. A primitive experience no doubt.

“Look how he plays…!”, is heard at the closing. Of course you have to watch because what ends is so much more than a recital, it’s another terrifying farewell to a lost childhood.

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