Even more surprising than the comeback itself have been the generally positive reviews that have greeted it. Knowing that showing gratitude for this journalistic turnaround would make him seem wimpy, Simmons insists that the notices only "solidify my image of critics as being cowards. It's always been very suspicious to me when somebody who has no credentials gets access to power. I mean, there are journalism classes in colleges, but there are no critics courses.
"Now, I have no beef with anyone who writes a column that says, 'Twenty thousand people came, they had the time of their lives, everybody went out of their minds, a million bombs went off, it was the biggest show I've ever seen, but I didn't like it.' That's fine, that's fair. Maybe it's not for everybody. It's like, believe it or not, not everybody loves hamburgers. Some people's mouths don't drip over a Coke and a double-cheese Whopper. Not everybody likes that. And that's okay. But to say, simply, 'This sucks, and never mind the rest of the people'--that's un-American. So all these raves, from the New York Times to the L.A. Times--from the bottom of my heart, they mean nothing to me. The only thing that matters to me is if you print my picture and spell my name right."
Likewise, Simmons claims to be unfazed by the suggestion that what's drawing throngs to KISS concerts has more to do with special effects than music. "It doesn't matter what they come for," he says. "Who cares? Who gives a shit? If they only come for the spectacle, that's fine. I want to make a spectacle out of myself. And if they come for the music? That's cool, too. But live, we have more responsibility. Because a ticket is so much more expensive than a CD, you deserve to be shown something. And it'll be something you can enjoy in and of itself.
"I hate it when knuckleheads on the sidelines, charter members of the intelligentsia, watch the fireworks go off and then go, 'That was amazing--but what does it all mean?' Get the fuck out of here. Sure, you can stand around and say, 'Ah, yes, but in the Jungian world as we know it, what does it say about society as a whole?' But to me, when a fireworks show goes up, that's all it is. It's just fireworks."
These comments suggest that Simmons has come to terms with his own superficiality, but that doesn't mean he'll sit still for KISS being dubbed a nostalgia act. "We're letting technology take KISS a step further," he proclaims. "We're trying to stay true to the spirit of the first KISS era, but this is not a play. It's not paint-by-numbers. We're not doing the same songs as we used to. We're not using the same raps. We're not doing any of that. The only thing we're trying to re-create is the feeling. Every year you have a birthday party, so in that sense they're all the same. But hopefully every party's different. And this party is beyond anything you can imagine. This clearly has trampled everything in its path, like Godzilla stomping Tokyo. You have ten bands on the H.O.R.D.E. tour and the Lollapalooza tour, or whatever: This thing is chewing them up and spitting them out.
"The truth is, KISS with makeup and the original lineup just dwarfs everything else. It's no different than Superman and Clark Kent. They're one and the same person, but let's be clear and upfront: Superman looks cooler with the 'S' and the cape."
It's unlikely that millions of music fans will remain enthralled with KISS for as long as comic collectors have supported the man from Krypton; the KISS phenomenon seems inspired as much by a dearth of lively new bands than by anything else. But you won't be able to convince Simmons of that. "There aren't enough days to meet the demand right now," he says, "but we will be back. We'll come around on a second swing and keep adding stuff. Because as much of a kick as it is for the fans, for the KISS Army, it's a bigger kick in the ass for me. If God is going to walk the face of the Earth again, he should try this--because this is as good as it gets."
So when God returns, you'd advise him to join KISS?
"No," Simmons replies, "because there's only room for one God at a time. And I'm it."
KISS, with the Hunger. 7:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, September 7 and 8, McNichols Arena, $27.50-$37.50, 830-TIXS. Sept. 7 show
