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KISS / Mammal

Tuesday, 25 March 2008

Photo: Aaron Sammut

BEC - Tues Mar 18

For a first time KISS show attendee, arriving at Boondall to see thousands of lifelong die-hards aged 60 all the way down to about five, many in full make-up, is a slightly intimidating experience. Clearly, the golden rule pertaining to ‘Don’t wear the t-shirt of the band you’re going to see’ doesn’t apply to this crowd.

First, however, we have to listen to Mammal. The highly energetic Melbourne funk-party-metal four-piece seem to want to prove that their band name is accurate, showing off their skin-laden torsos and prog-facial hair, and repeatedly asking the audience to prove their genus by requesting they stand on their hind legs and put their hands in the air. If not the world’s most overconfident frontman, Ezekiel Ox is in the Top 5, and while bass-heavy hard rock singalongs like Hell Yeah! show this band to be highly proficient at their chosen niche, there are only so many times a guy in pedal pushers can demand an audience’s love before the ire kicks in.

Photo: Aaron Sammut

Even without seeing a KISS show, one knows what to expect. A massive KISS curtain drops to an army of roadies as Paul, Gene and the dudes playing the parts of Ace and the Catman stride onstage in full glam-fantasy regalia, fireworks shooting off in front of a bleacher made solely of speakers and amps with a drumkit on top. Before the first song, the production has cost more than most national tours, and it’s extraordinarily intoxicating. “You wanted the best? You got the best! The hottest band in the world… KISS!” and with that the KISS Alive 35 show churns through some of hard rock’s best like Shout It Out Loud, and not so best like the cheesy Lick It Up. As a frontman, Paul Stanley is still remarkably effective, espousing his beloved stadium clichés between each song, charismatic without really saying anything and not afraid of delivering some less than subtle entendres. He’s in fine voice and still looks good. Gene Simmons, on the other hand is disgusting. Bloated with wiry hair stuck in his sweaty makeup, the axe-wielding cape-laden lothario thrusts his codpiece, lurches his tongue and spits his blood capsules like he’s been doing this for 30 years too long. Even his fire breathing is more like a heartburn burp, but for a man better known for his backstage activities than anything else, having Gene as the villain somehow makes the pantomime even more exciting.

Photo: Aaron Sammut

Through guilty highlights like Love Gun, Calling Dr Love and Firehouse it’s apparent that the songs themselves come second to just rockin’ out; maybe third to explosions, and even fourth to lewd guitar movements. Wherever songsmithery appears on their list of priorities, it’s still high enough to provide the main set’s closing masterpiece Detroit Rock City, fulfilling the song’s promise of one of the best introductions in rock history. The encore (after Stanley’s solo acoustic Shandy) doesn’t just continue the show’s vibe, but multiplies it by 10. I Was Made For Lovin’ You and Rock And Roll All Nite play out like the mindless anthems they are to flame geysers, ticker tape cannons, fireworks, a rocket powered flying drumkit, fire windmills, Gene and ‘Ace’ rising to the ceiling on platforms, the flashing neon KISS sign and a stadium on their feet partying like there’s no work tomorrow. It’s absolutely ridiculous. They’re absolutely ridiculous. I thought I knew what to expect. But just how much of an amazing, horrible, awesome, awful, brilliant giant of a spectacle a KISS show is, I had no idea.

SIMON TOPPER

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