D Generation sympathizes with losers, dropouts and street kids. Its songs aim to be anthems, but realistic ones. But the band is attached to later, scruffier 1970's rock, particularly the New York Dolls and the Ramones, though it sometimes echoes the Replacements, too. The members of D Generation, which opened the concert, were probably Kiss fans. Kiss never pretended to be profound, just enjoyable the band still does its job. And Kiss was selling out arenas before technical razzle-dazzle took over blockbuster movies (like "Star Wars") and the Broadway musical (like "Cats," which was presaged by Mr. (This tour's souvenir program advertises copies of the band's bass and guitar, starting at $1,500.) Kiss was, of course, a music video waiting to happen. It understood merchandising far better than its rock contemporaries the Kiss logo and the band's made-up faces have been on everything from lunch boxes to pinball machines. Stanley was a fount of four-letter words, but his patter at Madison Square Garden could go unbleeped on prime-time television.Įxcept for its music, Kiss was a band ahead of its time. But the songs are so basic they're no challenge to the band, especially with an audience shouting along. Frehley often forgot to look smug while he concentrated on his guitar solos, and he shied away from singing and playing simultaneously. In concert, the songs were a time capsule of borrowed 1970's rock: the Who, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Free. And Kiss's biggest hit, "Beth," is a ballad about a musician telling his girlfriend he won't be home because he's practicing with the band male bonding trumps romance. Other songs, like "Rock Bottom" and "Strutter," lash out at women who frustrated the singer. "Shout It Out Loud," "Detroit Rock City" and Kiss's ultimate statement of purpose, "Rock-and-Roll All Nite," promise uninhibited release. Love" sling double-entendres with the glee of someone who's just discovered the phallic symbol. Kiss's hits zeroed in on teen-age visions of adult prerogatives: sex, power and freedom, especially the freedom to make noise. Stanley, with a star over one eye and a hard-rocker's wail, is a pouting, hip-twitching Casanova. Simmons, bat-winged and spitting blood, is a growling ghoul, so forbidding that even an audience member who ran onstage stopped short of touching him Mr. They embody teen-age boys' confusions about what makes a man: Mr. With makeup adapted from Kabuki and superhero cartoons, Kiss became rock and roll action figures, not exactly human. In the 1970's, Kiss was smart enough to embody the fondest fantasies of pubescent boys. The concert promised and delivered Kiss with its 1970's overkill intact. Instantly, they were back on the arena circuit. Last year the four original members reunited to perform on "MTV Unplugged" and decided to return, playing old songs in full regalia. When they performed without makeup, like an ordinary rock band, their audience shrank, although it never disappeared. Simmons and Paul Stanley continued with other musicians. Frehley and the drummer Peter Criss left the band while Mr. Kiss learned the hard way what its fans want: spectacle. Even the special effects were greatest hits. When the band played "Firehouse" and Gene Simmons picked up a sword-shaped torch, the crowd knew he'd breathe fire when Ace Frehley took the stage alone for a long solo of hard-rock squiggles, it wasn't long before smoke was pouring from one guitar and he appeared to shoot flares from another. The band's four original members bestrode the stage with made-up faces, black-and-silver costumes and eight-inch platform shoes. At Madison Square Garden on Thursday night, starting a three-night stand that had sold out in 58 minutes, the whole package was in place. Sparks fly, flames whoosh, bright lights flash and, yes, the band does play songs, including some that became teen-age anthems in the 1970's.
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