This fall, the stage is set in the Scotiabank Arena for an event that signifies the end of an era. KISS, the band that revolutionized the theatrics of rock and defined an entire generation with their flamboyant personas, is set to deliver their final Canadian performance on November 22nd. The farewell concert is a poignant milestone in their storied 50-year career, with “The End of The Road” tour heralding their final bow.
In an intimate telephone interview that traversed the expansive history and impending culmination of KISS’s storied journey, Gene Simmons, the band’s co-founder and bassist, provided a detailed reflection ahead of their final shows, culminated by a grand two-night stop at Madison Square Garden in New York City.
The “End of the Road” tour, brought to life by Live Nation, is not just another tour for KISS. It’s billed as the grand farewell, the last opportunity for fans to witness the pyrotechnic-laden, makeup-adorned spectacle that has defined the band’s identity for over 50 years. As KISS gears up for that ultimate show at Madison Square Garden, the significance of New York, the city that Simmons described as “the soil from which we sprang,” is more than geographical—it’s emotional, symbolic, and retrospective.
Simmons, whose deep voice carries the weight of his larger-than-life stage persona even over the phone, didn’t hold back as he engaged with 519 Magazine. “Canada has always been close to our hearts,” Simmons articulated, his tone conveying a warmth reserved for the subject of Canada—a country that has shown the band immense affection over the decades. “The Canadian fans are some of the most vocal and passionate we’ve ever had the pleasure of playing for. They deserve this.”
He continued, delving into personal connections that make these Canadian dates more than just itinerary entries. “Shannon, my wife, is Canadian. There’s a personal thread that weaves through the fabric of our tour stops in Canada,” Simmons shared, offering a glimpse into the man behind the demon makeup.
In a spirited recollection of KISS’s unforeseen debut in Edmonton, Gene Simmons reminisced about the band’s serendipitous break as a last-minute replacement act, an event that heralded the dawn of their bombastic journey in rock ‘n’ roll. “Oh, I distinctly remember playing the first show at Edmonton University. We were a last-minute replacement for a band called the Michael Quatro Band. He was the brother of Suzi Quatro, who was kind of a seminal female rocker in the days before there were any. And he got sick, so we took his place,” Simmons recounted.
The scene he painted was one of raw, unfiltered novelty—both for the band and the unsuspecting audience. “Of course, the college kids had no idea what to expect, and we set up on lunch tables in the auditorium. They stuck them together, and we put our amps there. Of course, as soon as we got on stage and started jumping around, the lunch tables buckled.”
Simmons’ memory was vivid as he delved into the details of that inaugural performance. “I remember the kids were sitting cross-legged on the floor like hippies. Our first song was a song called ‘Deuce,’ which I wrote, and as soon as the song starts, before I start singing, we had the flash pods go off. In other words, the sound of bombs scared the crap out of everybody.”
The chaos of the moment seemed to fuel the legend that would become KISS. “And soon enough, the smoke alarms went off. It was nuts,” he added. The aftermath of the show was as memorable as the performance, with Simmons recalling, “I also remember afterward, we did a radio interview, and I don’t know if it was just being in a band or being from America or what it was, but when we got back to the Holiday Inn, there were girls in the lobby who weren’t interested in torturing us the way they were interested in torturing every other male.”
One of the longer, more reflective pauses in the conversation came when Simmons was asked to cast his mind back to KISS’s beginnings and the decisions that shaped their legendary status. “We were four guys from New York who wanted to put on the show we never saw. Bill Aucoin, our manager, he had this idea…” Simmons paused, then his voice surged with renewed vigor. “He told us, ‘Don’t let them see you without the makeup. Be the mythos, and we took that to heart.”
The allure of old Hollywood was part of that mythos. “It was to be glamorous. And we said, what the hell is that?” Simmons recalled. “He said, well, think about—and it was profound—think about Marilyn Monroe. The image you have of Marilyn Monroe is always made up, perfectly done, right. You never saw her in a T-shirt or without her makeup. She was quintessentially Marilyn Monroe anytime you saw her.”
Drawing parallels between Monroe’s perpetual poise and superheroes’ constant readiness, Simmons continued to explain, “Superman is always Superman. And so that was the idea. You hide something, the secret identity. Because Clark Kent can’t compete with Superman, can he? And it worked.”
The discourse then pivoted to the heart of KISS—the music and the performances that have left indelible marks on the rock landscape. “You know,” Simmons mused, “putting on the makeup, that’s the sacred ritual. Strapping on my bass, stepping into those platform boots—it’s like suiting up for battle. And every night we went to war for rock ‘n’ roll and for our fans.”
As the conversation inevitably turned to the future, Simmons’s response was resolute, laced with the no-nonsense realism fans have come to expect. “This tour is the end of the road for the band, not the brand. KISS is a universe of its own—movies, merchandise, maybe even Broadway. The band will end, but the KISS experience… it’s immortal.”
“It’s the end of touring,” Simmons stated, recognizing the intense physicality required for their iconic shows. “You’re very smart in seeing that. We are the hardest-working band on stage. I’ve got 40 pounds of armor and all the rest of it and seven-inch platform heels. Each of the dragon boots weighs as much as a bowling ball. Physically, it’s tough to do that.”
Simmons acknowledged the possibility of continuing the music in a different style if not for KISS’s elaborate stage persona. “I could do it into my [old age], like The Stones if I was like Keith, not Jagger, because Jagger keeps pushing the limit. But you could put on a comfortable pair of sneakers and a t-shirt and strum your guitar; you wouldn’t have to break your back.”
He continued, challenging other legendary bands to step into KISS’s boots: “If any of these—The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, or whoever—had to put on my outfit, spit fire, and do that on seven-inch platform heels for two hours, they’d break their back.”
Despite the cessation of touring, Simmons assured fans that KISS’s presence would continue to be felt across various mediums. “KISS will continue,” he asserted. “There’s a KISS museum in Las Vegas at the Rio called KISS World, and oh my goodness, we have KISS cruises, a movie coming out, and we’re working on a cartoon show, a lot of stuff. And of course, all the fun toys and games that will continue.”
He elaborated on the future of KISS performances, hinting at the potential for KISS’s music and brand to outlive the band itself through various interpretations and tribute acts. “The KISS show will live on in different ways. Yes, that’s being planned. It’ll also be four to ten different traveling shows. So, you’ll be able to be in Japan and have Japanese actors, musicians being us, and at the same time you could go to Vegas or New York or London.”
Contemplating the evolution of the band and its impact, Simmons offered a candid take on the dynamics within KISS, especially concerning original members Ace Frehley and Peter Criss. “It’s no secret we’ve had our share of ups and downs. Ace and Peter are brothers in KISS, and the door was always open for them to join us on this last go-around,” he stated. “But this isn’t a fairy tale; it’s real life. Egos, personalities, addictions—they’ve all played their parts.”
He then expressed a mix of sadness and frustration over the absence of Frehley and Criss at these final shows. “I feel sad. I feel sad and angry that both Ace and Peter aren’t here. I mean, they’re alive, but they’re not here to enjoy this unbelievable journey with us. They were there at the beginning and deserve all the credit. And when they look in the mirror, the only reason they’re not here with us is themselves,” Simmons lamented, pointing to personal accountability as the reason for their departure from the band.
In what might be seen as a concession to the emotional weight of these final shows, Simmons’s voice softened. “Inviting them was as much for the fans as it was for us. KISS has always been about the whole, not the individual. It would’ve been fitting to have all of us there, one last time.”
Simmons began addressing the purists who advocate for original band lineups, countering with a historical perspective. “While there are purists who insist on the original lineup, they point to The Beatles. But The Beatles were not an original lineup. Pete Best was the original drummer, and they changed drummers,” Simmons pointed out, debunking the myth of unchanged lineups in legendary bands. He continued, “Now, I don’t know Pete Best personally, but Ringo sure has the goods. He’s got a great personality and stuff, and they changed drummers for their own reasons. And when you look around at bands that have been around a long time, I don’t know, AC/DC, Metallica, you name it, Maiden, they don’t have original members.”
He highlighted the revitalizing effect that current drummer Eric Singer and guitarist Tommy Thayer have had on him and Paul Stanley. “We owe Eric and Tommy an awful lot because they reinvigorated Paul and myself. You can take things for granted sometimes, but when somebody new comes into the situation, it can remind you to appreciate the incredible life we have,” Simmons reflected.
The conversation then shifted to the professionalism and the lifestyle of the current band members. Simmons proudly shared, “Strangely enough, this was not planned, but nobody in the band actually smokes cigarettes or uses drugs, and nobody in the band drinks.” He emphasized that while there was no rule against such behaviors, the collective discipline had become a hallmark of their professionalism. “We got much more than we bargained for with Eric and Tommy; they’ve just been fantastic,” he said.
Simmons stands apart as a paragon of personal discipline. His candid thoughts on substance use, as shared with the media recently, provide a stark contrast to the perceived glamorization of such lifestyles in today’s influencer culture.
“I don’t consider myself an influencer,” Simmons began, drawing a line between himself and the social media personas who often sway public opinion and behavior. “You have a menu of life. You have choices,” he said, advocating for personal freedom in a society that allows one to choose their path.
Simmons’ choices have been clear and consistent throughout his career. “My choices for myself are not to use drugs and alcohol and cigarettes because they don’t work. Nothing happens,” he stated. This stance is not borne out of a desire for public accolades or showbiz image crafting. Instead, Simmons expressed a practical view of these substances, questioning their value and the sense in their usage. “If it made your schmeckle bigger, if it made you richer or smarter or better looking, I mean, I could understand that,” he quipped. Yet, the reality, as he points out, is far from it.
Expounding on the consequences of excess, Simmons painted a vivid picture: “You numb your senses. You throw up on the shoes that your girlfriend just bought, and if you drink enough, your schmeckle is not going to work. You have a headache the next day and all of it costs money.” His logic is uncomplicated and unclouded by the allure that fame often brings with it.
Looking ahead to the end, Simmons once again looked back at the humble beginnings of KISS and the pivotal night that set the stage for their illustrious career. “Certainly, the very first show we did professionally on New Year’s Eve at what was called the Academy of Music in New York City, 1973-74, has a special place in my heart,” he said.
That night, before the release of their first album, KISS was the fourth act on the bill, playing alongside Blue Öyster Cult, Iggy Pop, and a local band known as Teenage Lust. “The fact that somebody allowed us to get up on stage and make a complete spectacle of ourselves — well, let’s just say it doesn’t happen to every person in the world,” Simmons stated, acknowledging the rare opportunity they were given.
Simmons expressed an eternal gratitude to the fans who have supported them throughout their journey, and he anticipates that their final show will be a deeply moving experience for both the band and their legion of fans. “I know I’m going to feel that way forever,” he added, a sentiment that is sure to resonate with the KISS Army.
As he looked forward to the band’s ultimate performance, Simmons painted a poignant picture of the final moments he anticipates. “Even thinking about it chokes me up,” he admitted. The vision of their last song, “Rock and Roll All Nite,” with fans pumping their fists in the air, Madison Square Garden awash with confetti, and a crowd moved to tears is an image that Simmons expects to mirror with his own emotions. “I’ll be crying right along with them,” he shared.
He also addressed the growing chatter among the band’s dedicated fanbase regarding the setlists of their current tour. Fans have long debated the merits of the band playing more obscure tracks versus their well-known hits.
“This is something that has been pulling at us,” Simmons admitted, acknowledging the tension between fan service and the band’s performance choices. He went on to relate the phenomenon to the experiences of other legendary bands like The Rolling Stones. He noted that while deep cuts may delight some, the majority of fans are energized by the hits. “Whenever the Stones play a deep track or something new, that’s when everyone sits down,” he remarked, underlining the point that the crowd’s energy dips during lesser-known songs.
“If Led Zeppelin was coming to my town, I don’t want to hear anything obscure,” Simmons said emphatically. He argues that fans come to hear the songs that encapsulate the essence of the band, the iconic tracks that made them rock legends.
Despite the push for more variety, KISS did experiment with their South American tour stops. “For the hell of it, we took out ‘Tears Are Falling’ and we stuck in ‘Makin’ Love’,” Simmons revealed, discussing the band’s setlist changes. He pointed out that such changes could alienate younger fans who might not be as familiar with the band’s extensive back catalog.
Simmons seemed to suggest that the setlist is a balancing act, weighing the nostalgia and expectations of long-time fans against the fresh experiences of new listeners. He wrapped up the topic by drawing an analogy to a train ride, implying that one’s enjoyment of a concert, much like a journey, largely depends on when one boards — or, in this case, which era of the band’s music one connects with most deeply.
KISS’s journey from their first spectacle in New York to their final bow at Madison Square Garden is not just a story of a band’s success but a narrative of unrelenting passion and the indelible bond between rock icons and their fans.
As the final notes ring out, it will mark the end of an era for one of rock’s most flamboyant and enduring acts, and for Gene Simmons, an occasion to look back with gratitude and forward with a tearful farewell.
But we now know, the end is really just the beginning.
As seen in the November 2023 issue:
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