I’m With the B®and

How the revolution of rock transformed into the kitsch of karaoke

Last night, Eric Singer, drummer for the current manifestation of Kiss, sat down at a faux-jewel bedecked grand piano in front of 15,000 drooling head bangers, metal heads and paunchy proto-pensioners. They knew what was coming as they hoisted 30,000 pinkies and index fingers (give or take the odd amputation or machine accident) in the “we are sacred brothers in metal” devil horn symbol of RAAAWWKK. 15,000 screams of approval and ecstatic delight (which honestly sounded more like pitiful, mournful death moans of 15,000 wildebeast snatched in the death clutch of a marauding lion) gave way to the opening chords of the first encore of the evening.

15,000 aged and artery-clogged hearts pounded perilously aflutter to a song written, sung and recorded SOLO by the band’s original drummer, Peter Criss. The song, Beth, is, was and forever will be KISS’s most beloved hit. Yet it’s a song that Singer never had anything to do with, a tune that – before its success – was derided and ridiculed by Kiss oberleutnants Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley.

And herein layeth the fine line between band and brand. Singer’s Wikipedia entry doesn’t refer to him as the drummer of Kiss, but rather as “portraying the Catman, originally played by Peter Criss.” It’s kind of like Timothy Nolen portraying the Phantom of the Opera, originally played by Michael Crawford on Broadway (and, spookily ironically, by Paul Stanley in Toronto).

Stadium throngs – that will number more than a million by tour’s end - are not applauding Eric Singer, or for that matter the long absent Peter Criss, but are giving their fanatical seal of approval to the magical B®and that is KISS. Whomsoever is paid a wage to wear the war paint is conscripted as foot soldier in the KISS army. Simmons and Stanley have even suggested that Kiss will continue long after they (the principle singers and composers) are long gone.

Who would have thought that this wet dream kabuki show would have lasted nearly half as long as the 100 Years War?

KISS’s brand-ness is exemplified by the lightning bolt logo, designed by original lead guitarist (and, incidentally, the best musician in the revolving door that has been Kiss band members), Ace Frehley. Since the sixties, you can’t be a band without a logo, and for this you have to thank (along with literally a million and ten other things), the Beatles.

Drummer Ringo Starr and manager Brian Epstein walked into Ivor Arbitor’s drum shop in London where Ringo decided he wanted a Ludwig kit with oyster black pearl finish. After a bit of haggling, Arbitor agreed to lower the price substantially if they would put the Ludwig logo on the bass drum skin, as he had done a distribution deal with the company. Epstein agreed, provided Arbitor design a logo for the band, which would also go on the bass drum and make it look a little bit less like a promo for Ludwig. Cheap and innocent as it was, we all know the famous drop-T logo, just as we all know the Kiss logo. Of course, Beatles branding never really took off until long after half the band were dead and buried/cremated/scattered in the Ganges. But having a logo was just the beginning of rock groups identifying themselves with a sight, as well as a sound (iconic album covers and expensive light shows would follow later).

Now think of it. When you type Kiss, or AC/DC, it looks lame on the printed page without metallic/gothic type and ESPECIALLY wihout the lightning bolts. When we think of those two bands, we see their iconic emblems. They suggest masculinity, noise and, above all, elicit a Pavlovian response. For those about to rock, we salute you. Shout it out loud. Then there are logos that are so ubiquitous on everything from t-shirts to lunch boxes that you might even think of them without even thinking of the bands. Two that immediately come to mind? Ladies and gentlemen, the Rolling Stones. And hey-ho - let’s go, the Ramones. Johnny, Joey, Dee-Dee and Tommy are long gone, (thanks for NOTHING, cancer!) but their b®and is eternal. And let’s face it, that tongue will slobber on long after the 70-something Stones bite the dust. Two groups that were once considered symbols of the counter culture, are now – and forever will be – cultural icons.

Remarkably, bands like Thin Lizzy and Blood Sweat and Tears continue with absolutely no (i.e. zero point zero) members. Blackfoot and Humble Pie tour with no original members – each under the “curation” of a surviving band founder. On a personal note, I went to see the late Steve Marriott, lead singer of Humble Pie, do a club show as a solo artist many years ago. The ads for the show promoted it as “Humble Pie” which led me to believe that I would see the original members, including global phenon Peter Frampton, in a club with a capacity of 300 people. This was not the case. I met Marriott the following night – quite by accident – in a bar and asked him about the ads. He bemoaned the fact that the promoters insisted – much to his distaste – that the two words Humble Pie would sell a lot more tickets than the name of the band’s founder and frontman. Ironically, out of a 20-song set list, he performed exactly two Humble Pie songs.

In Marriott’s case, he was a band member that did not want to use his band name, but dollars and sense forced him to acquiesce. In most cases, it’s the opposite. This is why, when some bands split up, the bickering factions often go to court and fight over who is entitled to use the holiest of trademarks. These are disputes that get messy, angry and costly. And legally complicated (i.e. the rights to use the trademarked name vs. the rights to use the trademarked logo, the rights to call your self FORMER BASSIST of INSERT BAND NAME HERE, with the former bassist’s name in a font no more than 25% larger than the band’s name, etc). Using (or losing) that name and the associated logo has caused teenage best friends who grew up and bonded and rehearsed and spent 300 nights a year in crappy unheated vans, living in quasi-poverty, to argue over potential million dollar revenues (while paying millions in court costs), to seek psychotherapy and to never talk to each other again. Welcome to the jungle Guns ‘n’ Roses. Welcome to the machine Pink Floyd.

And so it goes. The rock generation is coming to an end. Those who were once gangs of money-less teenage rebels jamming in garages and basements are now aging wealthy-among-their-wildest-dreams pensioners trying to make enough money so that their kids and grandchildren will never have to worry about working as hard as their fathers/grandfathers did. The bigger the brand, the farther it goes. And that’s why tonight, and over many nights over the next year, Eric Singer will sing someone else’s song, wearing someone else’s make-up while thousands of b®and enthusiasts …lick it up.

 Long live ®ock, be it dead or alive.