Music review: Kiss

Kiss – pantomime fused with enjoyably over-the-top stadium rock clichés

Kiss, OVO Hydro, Glasgow JJJJ

Kiss are one of the most ludicrous rock bands to ever walk the Earth. That of course is the whole point. They’re almost – I said almost – a sly post-modern comment on the inherent absurdity of not only themselves but libidinous hard rock and showbiz in general.

You don’t spend most of your career wearing clown make-up while shamelessly presenting yourselves as a money-making business enterprise if you wish to be taken seriously as artists. Kiss are cynical capitalist entertainers, a franchise, who only begin to make sense when you see them live.

This show, part of their lengthy farewell tour, was great fun. An absolute hoot. How could it not be? Kiss are seasoned pros who’ve been plying their schlocky trade for 50 years. They know what they’re doing. It’s panto fused with all the enjoyably OTT stadium rock clichés you’d ever want or need: lasers, pyrotechnics, elevated plinths, guitar duels, drum solos, incessantly dramatic rock finger pointing and lead singer Paul Stanley sailing over the crowd on a zip-wire while wearing massive platform shoes.

These are Kiss trademarks. We got all the rest too, most of them courtesy of enormo-tongued bassist/singer Gene Simmons. He spat fire and dribbled fake blood down his chin. Of course he did. To remove this shtick from a Kiss show would be like Les Dawson retiring his off-key piano routine. The act is the act, it works.

The music? Well Kiss only have a handful of ‘classics’ at their disposal, most of their oeuvre consists of serviceable hard rock candy pop. Inspiration did however sometimes strike during their imperial phase. I’ll brook no argument over the dumb big hook merits of Detroit Rock City, Shout It Out Loud, I Was Made for Loving You and especially Rock and Roll All Nite, all of which were inevitably discharged tonight.

There was one conspicuous omission though. While clearly popular enough to fill arenas all around the world, Kiss were only ever a ubiquitous cultural phenomenon at home in the States. They rarely troubled the UK charts, scoring just two big hits: Crazy Crazy Nights and God Gave Rock and Roll to You II. The latter was played over the sound system as we all filed out at the end, and the former wasn’t played at all.

That may seem perverse, but it’s such a tightly-scripted and choreographed show it would probably cost half a million dollars and several backstage arguments to deviate even slightly from the set-list just to appease their UK fans (ironically, Crazy Crazy Nights flopped in the States). The only moment of spontaneity was when Stanley – who sounds exactly like George Costanza’s mum from Seinfeld – apologised to the crowd for not playing it.

Still, they made up for that rare dereliction of crowd-pleasing duties with highlights such as (oh yes) Lick It Up segueing into the hypnotic synth solo and kit-battering drum break from Won’t Get Fooled Again by The Who, lead guitarist Tommy Thyer firing sparks from the neck of his mirrored Flying V during his solo spot, and drummer Eric Singer emerging from the bowels of the stage to perform original drummer Peter Kriss’ soppy power ballad Beth while playing a white grand piano.

Kiss, self-evident faults and all, are an entertaining celebration of camp, which is why it’s impossible to resist them completely. I’m glad I was able to spend some time in their knowingly daft company.