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An artistic rendition of my face as I watch Paul Stanley's chest's sag lower...and lower...

KISS was a pubescent dream come true: Explosions, blood, fire, Paul Stanley’s ass-shaking…It’s a damn shame that I wasn’t a kid in the 70′s!  I want to see the raging asshole Demon, the totally not-gay Starchild*, the zoned out Space Ace, and, uh, Peter Criss.  Any schmuck can play a KISS tune (three chords and a drunken guitar solo), but nothing can replicate their stage presence.

Now Ace n’ Pete are played by studio musicians with about as much personality as a wet towel, Paul wears a wig and dyes his chest hair, and nothing worthwhile is coming outta the KISS camp.  A  rockin’ record twice a year in the 70′s and constantly changing stages and costumes?  Sucks for you, all’s you get is a mediocre cock-rock throwback album every 15 years and a stage-show mashed together from previous years.  What’s worse are the (confirmed) rumors of KISS auditioning musicians to replace Paul n’ Gene.  Ace brought balls to the band, Peter added swagger, but Paul is the musical backbone and Gene is the loud, ugly, and obnoxious face.  KISS albums are mostly written and sung by Paul, and Gene makes sure KISS remains in the public eye with merchandising and embarrassing antics.  I was willing to bear the tits of Paul Stanley, Gene Simmon’s douchebaggery, and two guys with no charisma act as Ace n’ Peter, but I would never pay to see some guys pretend to be Paul and Gene.  It’s like seeing Zeppelin without Jimmy and Robert, The Beatles without Paul and John, Megadeth without Megadave.  All a kick in the nuts to the kids born after the 70′s.

*not gay.

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