11/19/2011
KISS-THEMED FUNERAL A TOUCHING TRIBUTE
Story and photos by Alison Fensterstock
When Philip James �Nino� Negri, 43, died in a freak car accident on Nov. 6, the obituary notice his family sent to The Times-Picayune looked pretty standard � until its last line:
�Nino would be honored to see his friends and attendees dressed in KISS clothing and memorabilia.�
In the midst of their grief over Negri�s death, his family had decided to pull together a memorial service that was compassionate and faithful to the way �Nino� lived his life.
It was clear from the gathering of family and friends at the Leitz-Egan funeral home in Metairie on Nov. 12 that this was no ordinary funeral. The mourners on the front porch of the building, sporting faded black band T-shirts instead of buttoned-up suits, would not have been out of place at an arena-rock show. One woman in a smart black suit and heels stood with her back to the parking lot; turning, she revealed an Iron Maiden tank top under her tailored jacket.
Nino�s father, Philip Negri Sr., wore a KISS guitarist Paul Stanley T-shirt, slightly too big for him, that he�d borrowed from his late son�s closet. A passionate KISS fan, he explained, his son had put several thousand dollars into tattoos of the band members, and perhaps more, over the years, into memorabilia.
�On Halloween,� Negri said, �he usually won the costume contest, dressing up like members of KISS.�
There is no official protocol for a funeral to send off a member of the KISS Army, the fan club for the band started in the �70s, but it�s hard to imagine doing a better job than the Negri family did for Nino.
Items from his collection were displayed in the anterooms of the funeral parlor. On a laptop next to a vintage KISS lunchbox, �Detroit Rock City� played quietly under a slideshow of photos of Nino and his friends and family, including his 11-year-old daughter, Lizzy. Above it, on a ceiling-mounted flat-screen TV, the 1995 KISS �MTV Unplugged� special played silently.
KISS posters and photos were mounted on easels; a clay KISS ashtray sat on a side table. A flower arrangement in the shape of a Gibson Flying V guitar stood beside the urn holding Nino�s ashes, on top of which stood a tiny action figure of KISS lead guitarist Ace Frehley.
Long-haired rockers in T-shirts emblazoned with KISS slogans (�KISS 30th Anniversary,� �KISS Kruise 2011�) mingled around the memorabilia with older family members, finding common ground in the loss of their loved one, and eager to explain Nino�s fandom. �Yes, they were a very theatrical band,� one ponytailed man explained to a conservatively dressed, silver-haired woman.By Alison Fensterstock
When Philip James �Nino� Negri, 43, died in a freak car accident on Nov. 6, the obituary notice his family sent to The Times-Picayune looked pretty standard � until its last line:
�Nino would be honored to see his friends and attendees dressed in KISS clothing and memorabilia.�
In the midst of their grief over Negri�s death, his family had decided to pull together a memorial service that was compassionate and faithful to the way �Nino� lived his life.
It was clear from the gathering of family and friends at the Leitz-Egan funeral home in Metairie on Nov. 12 that this was no ordinary funeral. The mourners on the front porch of the building, sporting faded black band T-shirts instead of buttoned-up suits, would not have been out of place at an arena-rock show. One woman in a smart black suit and heels stood with her back to the parking lot; turning, she revealed an Iron Maiden tank top under her tailored jacket.
Nino�s father, Philip Negri Sr., wore a KISS guitarist Paul Stanley T-shirt, slightly too big for him, that he�d borrowed from his late son�s closet. A passionate KISS fan, he explained, his son had put several thousand dollars into tattoos of the band members, and perhaps more, over the years, into memorabilia.
�On Halloween,� Negri said, �he usually won the costume contest, dressing up like members of KISS.�
There is no official protocol for a funeral to send off a member of the KISS Army, the fan club for the band started in the �70s, but it�s hard to imagine doing a better job than the Negri family did for Nino.
Items from his collection were displayed in the anterooms of the funeral parlor. On a laptop next to a vintage KISS lunchbox, �Detroit Rock City� played quietly under a slideshow of photos of Nino and his friends and family, including his 11-year-old daughter, Lizzy. Above it, on a ceiling-mounted flat-screen TV, the 1995 KISS �MTV Unplugged� special played silently.
KISS posters and photos were mounted on easels; a clay KISS ashtray sat on a side table. A flower arrangement in the shape of a Gibson Flying V guitar stood beside the urn holding Nino�s ashes, on top of which stood a tiny action figure of KISS lead guitarist Ace Frehley.
Long-haired rockers in T-shirts emblazoned with KISS slogans (�KISS 30th Anniversary,� �KISS Kruise 2011�) mingled around the memorabilia with older family members, finding common ground in the loss of their loved one, and eager to explain Nino�s fandom. �Yes, they were a very theatrical band,� one ponytailed man explained to a conservatively dressed, silver-haired woman.
�Ave Maria,� not KISS, played as friends and family filed into the chapel for the 1 p.m. service, but the band was far from absent from the ceremony. A deacon from St. Agnes� Church led the service. At its beginning, he admitted, �I�m a musician, but metal and hard rock is not my forte.�
�We�ll convert you!� came a voice from the back of the room.
The service touched on fathers and sons, with the gospel reading focusing on Christ�s relationship to God; later, the deacon talked about his relationships with his own father and son, specifically in terms of music. When intentions for prayers were requested, many offered them: peace, happiness, an end to pain � and a KISS song.
At the close of the service, the deacon stepped behind the pulpit and began an a capella rendition of KISS�s 1979 single �I Was Made For Loving You.� Some lyrics were subbed out: �I was made for loving you, baby� became �I was made for loving you, Jesus.� The occasion called for it, notwithstanding that �I Was Made For Loving You� is a song about physical, not divine love, and most members of the original KISS are Jewish. (�Is this really happening?� one friend whispered.)
Eventually, all in attendance joined in. Some sang the original lyrics; most simply filled in background vocals, clapped the beat, and drummed on the sides of the pews. The unplanned singalong may have been the most touching, and palpably emotional, moment in an unusual yet deeply honest tribute, and at the end, there was rock-concert level applause. A few friends held up the rock �n�roll �devil horns� salute.
�Rock on, Nino!� somebody cried out.
In the front row, Philip Negri Sr. sat, in his loose-fitting, borrowed black-and-purple KISS T-shirt, his son gone too soon, but the room rocking with his spirit.
When Philip James �Nino� Negri, 43, died in a freak car accident on Nov. 6, the obituary notice his family sent to The Times-Picayune looked pretty standard � until its last line:
�Nino would be honored to see his friends and attendees dressed in KISS clothing and memorabilia.�
In the midst of their grief over Negri�s death, his family had decided to pull together a memorial service that was compassionate and faithful to the way �Nino� lived his life.
It was clear from the gathering of family and friends at the Leitz-Egan funeral home in Metairie on Nov. 12 that this was no ordinary funeral. The mourners on the front porch of the building, sporting faded black band T-shirts instead of buttoned-up suits, would not have been out of place at an arena-rock show. One woman in a smart black suit and heels stood with her back to the parking lot; turning, she revealed an Iron Maiden tank top under her tailored jacket.
Nino�s father, Philip Negri Sr., wore a KISS guitarist Paul Stanley T-shirt, slightly too big for him, that he�d borrowed from his late son�s closet. A passionate KISS fan, he explained, his son had put several thousand dollars into tattoos of the band members, and perhaps more, over the years, into memorabilia.
�On Halloween,� Negri said, �he usually won the costume contest, dressing up like members of KISS.�
There is no official protocol for a funeral to send off a member of the KISS Army, the fan club for the band started in the �70s, but it�s hard to imagine doing a better job than the Negri family did for Nino.
Items from his collection were displayed in the anterooms of the funeral parlor. On a laptop next to a vintage KISS lunchbox, �Detroit Rock City� played quietly under a slideshow of photos of Nino and his friends and family, including his 11-year-old daughter, Lizzy. Above it, on a ceiling-mounted flat-screen TV, the 1995 KISS �MTV Unplugged� special played silently.
KISS posters and photos were mounted on easels; a clay KISS ashtray sat on a side table. A flower arrangement in the shape of a Gibson Flying V guitar stood beside the urn holding Nino�s ashes, on top of which stood a tiny action figure of KISS lead guitarist Ace Frehley.
Long-haired rockers in T-shirts emblazoned with KISS slogans (�KISS 30th Anniversary,� �KISS Kruise 2011�) mingled around the memorabilia with older family members, finding common ground in the loss of their loved one, and eager to explain Nino�s fandom. �Yes, they were a very theatrical band,� one ponytailed man explained to a conservatively dressed, silver-haired woman.By Alison Fensterstock
When Philip James �Nino� Negri, 43, died in a freak car accident on Nov. 6, the obituary notice his family sent to The Times-Picayune looked pretty standard � until its last line:
�Nino would be honored to see his friends and attendees dressed in KISS clothing and memorabilia.�
In the midst of their grief over Negri�s death, his family had decided to pull together a memorial service that was compassionate and faithful to the way �Nino� lived his life.
It was clear from the gathering of family and friends at the Leitz-Egan funeral home in Metairie on Nov. 12 that this was no ordinary funeral. The mourners on the front porch of the building, sporting faded black band T-shirts instead of buttoned-up suits, would not have been out of place at an arena-rock show. One woman in a smart black suit and heels stood with her back to the parking lot; turning, she revealed an Iron Maiden tank top under her tailored jacket.
Nino�s father, Philip Negri Sr., wore a KISS guitarist Paul Stanley T-shirt, slightly too big for him, that he�d borrowed from his late son�s closet. A passionate KISS fan, he explained, his son had put several thousand dollars into tattoos of the band members, and perhaps more, over the years, into memorabilia.
�On Halloween,� Negri said, �he usually won the costume contest, dressing up like members of KISS.�
There is no official protocol for a funeral to send off a member of the KISS Army, the fan club for the band started in the �70s, but it�s hard to imagine doing a better job than the Negri family did for Nino.
Items from his collection were displayed in the anterooms of the funeral parlor. On a laptop next to a vintage KISS lunchbox, �Detroit Rock City� played quietly under a slideshow of photos of Nino and his friends and family, including his 11-year-old daughter, Lizzy. Above it, on a ceiling-mounted flat-screen TV, the 1995 KISS �MTV Unplugged� special played silently.
KISS posters and photos were mounted on easels; a clay KISS ashtray sat on a side table. A flower arrangement in the shape of a Gibson Flying V guitar stood beside the urn holding Nino�s ashes, on top of which stood a tiny action figure of KISS lead guitarist Ace Frehley.
Long-haired rockers in T-shirts emblazoned with KISS slogans (�KISS 30th Anniversary,� �KISS Kruise 2011�) mingled around the memorabilia with older family members, finding common ground in the loss of their loved one, and eager to explain Nino�s fandom. �Yes, they were a very theatrical band,� one ponytailed man explained to a conservatively dressed, silver-haired woman.
�Ave Maria,� not KISS, played as friends and family filed into the chapel for the 1 p.m. service, but the band was far from absent from the ceremony. A deacon from St. Agnes� Church led the service. At its beginning, he admitted, �I�m a musician, but metal and hard rock is not my forte.�
�We�ll convert you!� came a voice from the back of the room.
The service touched on fathers and sons, with the gospel reading focusing on Christ�s relationship to God; later, the deacon talked about his relationships with his own father and son, specifically in terms of music. When intentions for prayers were requested, many offered them: peace, happiness, an end to pain � and a KISS song.
At the close of the service, the deacon stepped behind the pulpit and began an a capella rendition of KISS�s 1979 single �I Was Made For Loving You.� Some lyrics were subbed out: �I was made for loving you, baby� became �I was made for loving you, Jesus.� The occasion called for it, notwithstanding that �I Was Made For Loving You� is a song about physical, not divine love, and most members of the original KISS are Jewish. (�Is this really happening?� one friend whispered.)
Eventually, all in attendance joined in. Some sang the original lyrics; most simply filled in background vocals, clapped the beat, and drummed on the sides of the pews. The unplanned singalong may have been the most touching, and palpably emotional, moment in an unusual yet deeply honest tribute, and at the end, there was rock-concert level applause. A few friends held up the rock �n�roll �devil horns� salute.
�Rock on, Nino!� somebody cried out.
In the front row, Philip Negri Sr. sat, in his loose-fitting, borrowed black-and-purple KISS T-shirt, his son gone too soon, but the room rocking with his spirit.
