It's hard to believe that the KISS reunion is almost twenty years old. The personnel has changed several times since those first triumphant shows, but the line-up now seems firmly settled around the indispensable Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley, with the dependable Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer occupying the positions once held by Ace Frehley and Peter Criss.
One thing certainly hasn't changed: KISS still believes that excess is a virtue. The band never subscribed to the idea that less is more. If anything, KISS has spent forty years arguing the exact opposite. Fire, explosions, elevated platforms, giant video screens, blood-spitting, smoking guitars... if something is worth doing, it is worth overdoing.
Over the years, countless critics have mocked the band for being old men in make-up singing simplistic songs while hiding behind a mountain of special effects. Fair enough, but that criticism misses the point entirely. KISS has never pretended to be an exercise in subtlety. This is show business in its purest form. People pay money to hear "Deuce," "Detroit Rock City" and "Love Gun." They pay money to watch things explode. KISS understands the assignment and delivers exactly what the audience wants.
And for the most part, they still do it remarkably well. The setlist is packed with classics, the show looks spectacular and the musicianship is more than competent. If there is one issue that can no longer be ignored, however, it is Paul Stanley's voice. Time has not been kind to it. There are moments throughout the evening where the strain becomes impossible to overlook, and die-hard KISS Army members may find themselves wincing during songs that once seemed effortless for him.
Still, nobody goes to a KISS concert looking for refinement. KISS is loud. KISS is stupid. KISS is fun. It is American rock reduced to its most basic ingredients and then inflated to absurd proportions. A shallow, vulgar, sensationalist, unapologetically commercial circus act. The hottest brand in the world. And it's absolutely glorious.
