For an era of music that my parents’ friends are keen to tell me was the greatest of all time, I can’t help but wonder why there were so many theatrics. As good as the music was, classic rock in the 1970s and 1980s was littered with the sort of flamboyance that usually compensates for the lack of something. I mean, why else would Kiss feel the need to smear pancake makeup on their faces for every show?
Of course, this is a slightly reductive take that overlooks the simple idea of showmanship, and, during that era, bands and artists were stretching the realms of what was acceptable. So naturally, make-up-fuelled alter egos were a by-product of that.
In fairness to Kiss, while their music didn’t necessarily innovate, their shows did, being the first real band to introduce pyrotechnics to the stage. With music becoming an increasingly lucrative art form and the appetite for live shows at an all-time high, the band realised their budget could alter what was considered normal and deliver something that engaged beyond the music.
Naturally, as innovators in that field, they were the first to realise when it was taken too far. And during one fateful gig, they met their limit. “We had the candelabra on stage,” Gene Simmons tentatively explained, before descending into quite a frightening story.
“Now, somebody thought to get flash paper and fill it with gunpowder and just kind of scrunch it up. I would sort of light it while Paul sang, ‘Do you feel alright’, and throw it over the heads of the audience, and it would explode over their heads and scare them. In those days, fire marshals didn’t know anything. It’s like you could do all kinds of wild and unsafe stuff.”
Rock and roll, eh? Thriving in the days before health and safety had a department and relishing in the mischievous madness of fire. But with all people who play with fire, it’s only a matter of time before something, or someone, gets burned. Luckily, but rather worryingly for Kiss, it wasn’t any of the band.
“I didn’t throw it well. Instead of throwing it above the heads of the audience, this poor guy must’ve been standing on his seat, so he was taller than the other guys standing on the ground. I remember hitting this guy straight in the face. You ever see in those freak houses where you hit the duck and it goes right back down? That’s what it looked like. The thing exploded in front of the guy, and he went down.”
Gene Simmons explained that the band spent the remainder of the gig panicking between songs, expecting an inevitable lawsuit when the dust had settled. Of course, rock and roll crowds were raucous and relished danger, but a fireball to the face was surely too much for anyone. After nervously finishing their set, the band decamped to their dressing room and awaited the reality of their actions. So when a knock on the door finally came, they swiftly put their tails between their legs.
“Door opens up, and this guy looked like The Incredible Melting Man. The top of his forehead was melted over his right or left eye, but he must’ve been so high that he didn’t feel the pain because he was like, ‘That’s the best band I ever saw in my life’. He’s going, ‘Wow, man, can I have your autograph?’ ‘Yeah, sure’. The manager took him right away to the hospital and had him sign off. It could’ve ended right there. Needless to say, it was the only time we ever did that.”
