And now the end is near and so with make up they face the final curtain.
Today, after four years of “End of the Road”, the farewell tour that included 251 concerts, and after 50 years of band history, Kiss marches one last time to their final concerts at Madison Square Garden in New York. With their 40,000 fans, the Kiss Army, a few blocks from where it all began five decades ago in a rehearsal room in downtown Manhattan – and with Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, Ace Frehley and Peter Criss one of the greatest rock bands was born.
My taxi stops in front of Madison Square Garden, I pay and get out. In June 1972, a year before he formed Kiss with Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley worked as a taxi driver. At that time a couple was driving to an Elvis Presley concert, when they paid, Paul told them goodbye that at some point people will come to this place to see him live.
Kiss have really taken over the city on this first weekend in December, when it gets dark, huge projections of the four band members appear at the top of the Empire State Building, their faces appear on the oversized LED walls in Times Square. Kiss taxis drive through the city, at Prince Street Pizza there is an exclusive Kiss pizza with a box, at two subway stations there are 50,000 limited Kiss Metrocards, a pop-up store with exclusive New York Last Show merch, a mini Kiss museum and so on much more.
People don’t believe that this is really the end of the road for this band. The 74-year-old bassist Gene Simmons told me in the spring when we were drinking coffee in Berlin-Mitte that his costume alone weighs 20 kilograms plus the bass guitar and that the show lasts two hours, he breathes fire and then flies across the stage. Paul added that footballers are no longer active even in old age and continuing without masquerade and show would not be an option as Kiss is what they embody, the victory of individual empowerment to be strong without aging. Ace Frehley and Peter Criss were replaced about 20 years ago by Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer, Simmons and Stanley, the two frontmen are still there. Indestructible?
I ride up the arena’s escalators on this first Saturday in December, surrounded by multi-generational Kiss fans, grandpas, fathers, children, all made up and draped in Kiss merchandise. In the opening act, Amber Wild, the band around Evan Stanley, Paul Stanley’s son, convinces musically somewhere between the Foo Fighters and Bush. Rock songs from another time that unhinge Madison Square Garden a little even before the main act. Their hit “Silver” is a gem, a perfect intro for what’s to come today.
8:42 p.m., the lights at Madison Square Garden dim. Led Zeppelin’s rock’n’roll sounds from the hall speakers. The same procedure as alwaysthen Kiss on the screens to the right and left, as they walk through the catacombs of Madison Square Garden in their uniforms and make-up to the stage, which is covered by a large black curtain on which the four letters KISS shine in white.
Then one very last time the voice from the off: “All right New York, you wanted the best, you got the best. The hottest band in the world. Kiss.”
The first notes of “Detroit Rock City” ring out, and as the drums begin, the curtain falls – and Paul, Gene, Tommy, they float down from the stage ceiling onto platforms one last time. It’s like a church service. Everything is brightly lit, everything bangs and explodes in a choreographed manner.
Kiss call their fans Army, and this Army bows one last time to the band and the band in turn to them. A mutual unconditional love. A life long.
Maybe it’s the magic of Madison Square Garden, coupled with the knowledge that today was the last time the uniforms were put on and the makeup was applied. Perhaps you have never been as close to the band as you are today, like walking through the red light district in Amsterdam without window glass. Gene Simmons hasn’t slept the last two nights. There were no meet and greets today. The band wanted time for themselves, there are so many feelings, too many memories. They have never been as on point as they are today. They are over-emotional, as if on this final evening, which will be streamed worldwide, they want to prove to everyone, including the local fans, that they want to keep their promise “YOU GOT THE BEST”.
Gene Simmons spits fake blood, although he is now at the age where it could be real
Every move and statement from Stanley, “How could we not end it here where it all started?”, every pose from Simmons, his sticking out his tongue, every solo from Thayer, Eric Singer, how he twists the drumsticks until they become invisible, everything sits.
The setlist is a selection of songs from the last 50 years, including from the make-up era, “Love Gun”, “Black Diamond”, “Beth”, “I was made for lovin’ you” and also “Deuce” from the first album, the song that summarizes their entire work long before AC/DC was founded. Stanley flies over the crowd to a second stage, rockets, fireworks, Gene Simmons spits out fake blood, although he is now at the age where it could be real, Thayer shoots rockets from the neck of his guitar into the spotlights.
After the last song, “Rock and Roll all Nite”, a sea of confetti and guitar storms, the individual band members are catapulted up onto platforms to the ceiling of the stage. As fog shoots onto the stage, we hear Paul Stanley’s last words: “A new Kiss Era starts now. You made us. The end of the road is the beginning of another road. Well see you in your dreams.”
They disappear into the fog, when it dissipates the band is no longer there. Away. I am surrounded by beaming faces, including men with tears in their eyes. “Tears are falling.” On the screens there is a barcode with the addition “A new Era begins”. Kiss wouldn’t be Kiss if they didn’t have a few surprises in store. A countdown on their homepage.
When I’m looking for a taxi down in front of Madison Square Garden after the concert, the announcement comes up on their homepage. Kiss will live on as digital avatars because the band is something bigger than them, the band members.
I get into the taxi, look up at the billboard again and think exactly what Paul Stanley was thinking when he sat here in the taxi in 1972.