08/08/2010
KISS IN BOSTON: A GUILTY PLEASURE
By Barry Thompson
No matter how you feel about flagrant commercialization or style over substance, you would have to be the most elitist, humorless, stuck-up music snob in the galaxy to not enjoy a KISS concert.
Though only two of the original members from the iconic '70s rock institution remain with the quartet, KISS can't be accused of sticking around past their expiration date. They've never had a good reason to fold, and they shouldn't ever have stopped wearing face paint during a shameful phase in the '80s and '90s. Dressed up like Kabuki warriors with a sadomasochistic streak, KISS embody a certain element of childlike magic and wonder. It's like seeing rock 'n' roll's answer to the Justice League, preening and posturing in all their hammy glory.
Though turnout for big summer concerts this year has underwhelmed, the Comcast Center was far from empty Saturday. Several Boston-area members of the KISS Army trekked out in costume to pay homage to their idols. In bold defiance of hard economic times, KISS spared no expense delivering their signature special-effects spectacular of a live performance. Due to the constant influx of pyrotechnics, the air around the stage reeked of ash well before the show's conclusion.By Barry Thompson
No matter how you feel about flagrant commercialization or style over substance, you would have to be the most elitist, humorless, stuck-up music snob in the galaxy to not enjoy a KISS concert.
Though only two of the original members from the iconic '70s rock institution remain with the quartet, KISS can't be accused of sticking around past their expiration date. They've never had a good reason to fold, and they shouldn't ever have stopped wearing face paint during a shameful phase in the '80s and '90s. Dressed up like Kabuki warriors with a sadomasochistic streak, KISS embody a certain element of childlike magic and wonder. It's like seeing rock 'n' roll's answer to the Justice League, preening and posturing in all their hammy glory.
Though turnout for big summer concerts this year has underwhelmed, the Comcast Center was far from empty Saturday. Several Boston-area members of the KISS Army trekked out in costume to pay homage to their idols. In bold defiance of hard economic times, KISS spared no expense delivering their signature special-effects spectacular of a live performance. Due to the constant influx of pyrotechnics, the air around the stage reeked of ash well before the show's conclusion.
Before flying around the arena like Peter Pan during the encore, co-frontman Paul Stanley proudly announced this tour had thus far raised almost $100,000 for the Wounded Warrior Project. As Stanley procured a giant check for the veterans' charity, a chant of "USA! USA!" broke out, with echoes of "Yankees suck!" audible in the lawn section.
Judging from interviews, KISS take themselves pretty seriously. If they've become oblivious to their absolute ridiculousness, it's understandable. After spending a significant portion of his life looking and acting like a demon, somewhere in the nether regions of his mind, 60-year-old Gene Simmons probably believes he really is one.
No matter how you feel about flagrant commercialization or style over substance, you would have to be the most elitist, humorless, stuck-up music snob in the galaxy to not enjoy a KISS concert.
Though only two of the original members from the iconic '70s rock institution remain with the quartet, KISS can't be accused of sticking around past their expiration date. They've never had a good reason to fold, and they shouldn't ever have stopped wearing face paint during a shameful phase in the '80s and '90s. Dressed up like Kabuki warriors with a sadomasochistic streak, KISS embody a certain element of childlike magic and wonder. It's like seeing rock 'n' roll's answer to the Justice League, preening and posturing in all their hammy glory.
Though turnout for big summer concerts this year has underwhelmed, the Comcast Center was far from empty Saturday. Several Boston-area members of the KISS Army trekked out in costume to pay homage to their idols. In bold defiance of hard economic times, KISS spared no expense delivering their signature special-effects spectacular of a live performance. Due to the constant influx of pyrotechnics, the air around the stage reeked of ash well before the show's conclusion.By Barry Thompson
No matter how you feel about flagrant commercialization or style over substance, you would have to be the most elitist, humorless, stuck-up music snob in the galaxy to not enjoy a KISS concert.
Though only two of the original members from the iconic '70s rock institution remain with the quartet, KISS can't be accused of sticking around past their expiration date. They've never had a good reason to fold, and they shouldn't ever have stopped wearing face paint during a shameful phase in the '80s and '90s. Dressed up like Kabuki warriors with a sadomasochistic streak, KISS embody a certain element of childlike magic and wonder. It's like seeing rock 'n' roll's answer to the Justice League, preening and posturing in all their hammy glory.
Though turnout for big summer concerts this year has underwhelmed, the Comcast Center was far from empty Saturday. Several Boston-area members of the KISS Army trekked out in costume to pay homage to their idols. In bold defiance of hard economic times, KISS spared no expense delivering their signature special-effects spectacular of a live performance. Due to the constant influx of pyrotechnics, the air around the stage reeked of ash well before the show's conclusion.
Before flying around the arena like Peter Pan during the encore, co-frontman Paul Stanley proudly announced this tour had thus far raised almost $100,000 for the Wounded Warrior Project. As Stanley procured a giant check for the veterans' charity, a chant of "USA! USA!" broke out, with echoes of "Yankees suck!" audible in the lawn section.
Judging from interviews, KISS take themselves pretty seriously. If they've become oblivious to their absolute ridiculousness, it's understandable. After spending a significant portion of his life looking and acting like a demon, somewhere in the nether regions of his mind, 60-year-old Gene Simmons probably believes he really is one.
